ably die, the
love which glitters through Moore, and walks so ambitiously ambiguous
through the verse of Byron; the love which you consider now so deep and
so true; the love which tingles through the hearts of your young ladies,
and sets you young gentlemen gazing on the evening star,--all that love
too will become unfamiliar or ridiculous to an after age; and the young
aspirings and the moonlight dreams and the vague fiddle-de-dees which
ye now think so touching and so sublime will go, my dear boys, where
Cowley's Mistress and Waller's Sacharissa have gone before,--go with the
Sapphos and the Chloes, the elegant "charming fairs," and the chivalric
"most beauteous princesses!" The only love-poetry that stands through
all time and appeals to all hearts is that which is founded on either
or both the species of love natural to all men,--the love of the senses,
and the love of custom. In the latter is included what middle-aged men
call the rational attachment, the charm of congenial minds, as well
as the homely and warmer accumulation of little memories of simple
kindness, or the mere brute habitude of seeing a face as one would see
a chair. These, sometimes singly, sometimes skilfully blended, make the
theme of those who have perhaps loved the most honestly and the most
humanly; these yet render Tibullus pathetic, and Ovid a master over
tender affections; and these, above all, make that irresistible and
all-touching inspiration which subdues the romantic, the calculating,
the old, the young, the courtier, the peasant, the poet, the man of
business, in the glorious love-poetry of Robert Burns.

THE GREAT ENTAILED.

The great inheritance of man is a commonwealth of blunders. One race
spend their lives in botching the errors transmitted to them by another;
and the main cause of all political, that is, all the worst and most
general, blunders is this,--the same rule we apply to individual cases
we will not apply to public. All men consent that swindling for a horse
is swindling,--they punish the culprit and condemn the fault. But in a
State there is no such unanimity. Swindling, Lord help you! is called
by some fine name; and cheating grows grandiloquent, and styles itself
"Policy." In consequence of this there is always a battle between those
who call things by their right names and those who pertinaciously
give them the wrong ones. Hence all sorts of confusion. This confusion
extends very soon to