lly
denied. Heaven has wisely decreed that the heart, once filled
with its ideal, may be compensated for the bitter hour of sorrow
by the soothing balm of a new affection, and it is even possible
that the second love may be more satisfying than the first, the
third or fourth more typical of exaltation than its predecessors.
But love, whether early or late, in the perfect absorption of the
faculties comes only once; as compared with this remarkable
mental state all other conditions are unemotional, unfilling.

The true lover rises early, before the world is astir. If it is
summer and in the country, his thoughts lead him to the cool
groves, the shady banks of the river, the retired spots where he
may uninterruptedly commune with his happiness or his misery, and
reflect on the blessings that are to be, or should be, his. Was
it not then as a true lover that in the early morning I walked
into the country, and down the banks of the stream where Sylvia
and I had strayed and talked in the sunny days of youth? And
nature seemed a part of the wedding procession, and the squirrels
on the fence rails, and the robins, wrens, and wood-thrushes in
the trees chirped and twittered: "John Stanhope is in love! John
Stanhope is in love!" And the mocking crow, lazily flapping his
wings at a safe distance, croaked enviously: "Ha, ha! old
Stanhope is in love. Ha, ha!" Yet the whole conspiracy of
animated nature could not make old Stanhope in his present
exaltation regretful of his age or ashamed of his passion.

Mary Eastmann had accepted the situation without comment. She
neither congratulated nor demurred, but went on with her
household duties with the same method and precision as before.
Men may come and go, hearts may be won and lost, republics may
totter and empires may fall, but the grand scheme of sweeping,
dusting, bed-making, and cooking knows no interruption. If I did
not understand I at least commended this housewifely prudence,
and often when the domestic battle was at its height I would
spirit away my little charmer for the discussion of topics within
my comprehension. At the outset I had declared that while it had
pleased Providence to begin our romance in a burying-ground, I
did not propose to sacrifice all tender sentiment to meditations
among the tombs, and I bore her away to the old tree down by the
river, where we sat for hours together as I unfolded my plans for
our future life.

A man who has sat at the feet of th