ugh
all nature, and your own warms into quivering life.

"It is not good for man to live alone;" and you dream of another to
share the rapture your wild fancy has created.

_Your_ Haidee is pure. Her form has rather the statuesque roundness of
Psyche than the luxurious excess of Venus. Timid, yet not tremulous,
graceful even to delicacy, coquettish in outline, _her_ beauty is formed
for smiles. She is a still-eyed Xenobi, but knows nothing of Passion
with disheveled locks, divine frenzy, and fiery grasp. She is your
friend and comforter; and you are the strong rock her helplessness
clings to. Your uncouth manner softens as you behold her troubled look.
You become kind and considerate. You watch with pity the pinched faces
of anxiety that pass before you. You cheer the little beggar, and give
him of your abundance. Unhappy wanderer! he has started early on his
wretched pilgrimage for bread. "Your heart, enlarged by its new sympathy
with one, grows bountiful to all." The fragrant smoke curls in heavier
clouds, and is wafted imperceptibly into the darkness. Ah, Arthur
Granger! Arthur Granger! you are dreaming impossibilities, as the man
athirst dreams of flowing waters.

"Love has lost its wings of heavenly azure with which it soared light as
a lark into the empyrean, and now grovels on the earth, weighed down by
the burden of red gold."

How well I recollect that warm, balmy March morning! My mother had sent
me to Paris about six months before, to read law with an old relative.
Of course I was delighted; but that day I felt tired of the dull routine
of my life, and longed for the green fields, waving trees, and wild
mountain-torrents of my home. I was walking slowly down the street,
thinking gloomily of the labors of another day, and she was standing
near a school-house door, intently occupied in giving some directions to
an old soldier. In my whole life I do not think I ever saw a more
beautiful creature. The airiness of the lithe little figure, the
playfulness in the nod of the graceful head, the look of joyous
innocence on that perfect face, flitted through my mind like a bright
ray of sunshine during the entire day. Every morning, for years after, I
met that child; and every morning her beaming smile cheered my young
life like a glimpse of heaven. I never spoke to her; it was a long time
before she even knew of my existence; but by-and-by I noticed a
quizzical expression come over the old man's face, and I saw her