The Sun.
London, England, 1849-12-27 00:00:00

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may t-417.4.-You again, dear PI
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.. 7 V 7v.•,, - --- - for many months, ye you refuse me one kiss
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, remembrance ?"
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•Oh I am a great girl now, Edward, and shall
i„bt let any one kiss me again."
"But 1 have known you from such a little child,
ought not this to be my authority ? You know lam
your old friend, and am sorry to part from you with-
out a token of your friendship." •
" Well, but I am a great girl, and I ought not."
Edward Morgan was about to leave the village of
-, to enter upon a situation in London, and the
above dialogue took place between him and Mary
Warner, on the evening before his departure ; for he
'would leave in the morning before the household were
up. Edward was a young man of nineteen or twenty
years of age, and had known Mary 'Warner since she
was a child of ten years. She was now fourteen, and
though not to be called handsome, had an expression
of sweet sensitiveness and of quiet good-temper,
plainly marked in her face.
To attempt to reason was useless, and with a heart
too full to talk, Edward could but faintly ( xpress his
sorrow at the one boon denied him, and bidding her
good-by, retired to his chamber, concealing his grief
as best he might.
Mary Warner lost her father when she was but an
infant, and compelled by circumstances, went to live
with her kind old grandmother. Being naturally a
child of affectionate disposition, a fond love sprang
up between them ; and the pain of separation, when
in her tenth year she came to live with and assist her
mother, was mutually severe to grandmother and
child. But with the happy nature of children, love
soon transports itself: the affections must find a rest-
ing-place, the soul needs a confident, and who can
claim so strong a right as a mother ? It was at her
home that Edward Morgan first saw the child.
Himself very young, and of a warmly sensitive
nature, he had witnessed with unconscious sympathy,
the playful simplicity of little Mary, and had been to
her a tried friend as " jumper," or the recipient of the
exuberant overflow of kisses which the pure heart of
a child lavishes upon any one it loves. The calls of
business often separated the young friends, months
intervened between their seeing each other, but
scarcely any alteration took place in the simple de-
light of renewed meetings. And oh! who will deny
that these moments of unconscious love are the
dearest in our lives, when the satisfaction of present
happiness leaves no void, suffers no hope to intrude,
but is true enjoyment, innocent rapture. When
eonviction that we love first comes home to us, we are
from that moment subject to fear and hope ; the pre-
sent becomes only the road to a future, and is impa-
tiently endured. Anxiety lends its aid to fever us
with its promptings, and we then feel the pains of
love, as before we enjoyed its pleasures. For the
love spontaneously springing up between the boy
and girl is of the holiest nature, and partakes of the
passivity of the purest feeling.
"A great girl, and ought not," repeated Edward
as he sat down to think. " How cruel to doubt me,
or to distrust her own faith in me. It is with none
but the sincerest feeling, Mary, that I hoped for
thy love." Edward went to sleep, pondering NI hy
such thoughts should influence his dear girl. And
he comforted himself by lying it to the world's
teaching, that what a child may do with propriety
a girl may not do. But he would have envied any
envied any one but himself a kiss. He relied upon
his love to overcome all opposition, unmindful in his
enthusiasm that older people include policy in their
creed.

Edward Morgan came to town with hope beating
in his heart, yet scarcely daring to indulge in its
visions. The reflection afforded by leisure, soon con-
vinced him of the nature of his feeling fur his friend.
Day after day he longed to hear from her, and would
have written every day, but restrained his love that
he might not appear impatient. However, many
little exchanges of kindness took place, and somehow
or other, Christmas found the young friends together
in the village again, and the two or three days of
conversation and playfulness endeared them still more
to each other. Her growing shyness he watched
with a cool but emphatic love, and he thought that
he was not unrEgarded by her whom he loved so
fondly. The parting was a greater misfortune than
ever, and it seemed like a pilgrimage to some un-
known land, to go, and leave behind him all he held
so dear.

Another Christmas passed, and a little present
made to Mary induced her mother to request that no
more such gifts should be made, for people began to
talk, and her daughter was so young, that she
thought it much better all intercourse should cease.
We have said that Edward had a sensitive heart,
and this announcement rendered him almost speech-
less. His love had so grown from friendship, that it
seemed like denying him a sister's affection to deprive
him of liberty to correspond with his Mary. But he
said little; at a distance from her whom he loved,
forbidden by the mother, he would not endeavour to
gain from the daughter a word in his favour. Ear-
nestly he besought Mrs. Warner to allow him to
continue his acquaintance with Mary, but she as
resolutely forbade him ; he could only gain from her
her decided opinion that it would be for the best to
separate for two or three years, though she would
give no reason for her decision. A positive order
accompanied this letter, that no hope was to be in-
dulged at present under these circumstances.
Love, indeed, could not be extinguished. Often
did Edward grieve at the distance which sundered
them, believing that his presence might have rendered
all again happy, and he could not determine what had
caused such sudden change of feeling. Once more
he wrote ;no reply was vouchsafed. Sorrow now
seamed a fixed companion with him, and he was a
solitary soul among many busy and thoughtless
acquaintances.

11.

" And you never doubted my truth, Mary ; never
believed me to be so fickle-minded, as to be smitten by
the first pretty face I might see, when remembrance
ever kept your features present to me."
"Oh! no, I could not have thought so. I did not
understand, until we parted for the last time how
dear you were to me. My mother no doubt meant
well, but did she act wisely ? To separate two true
hearts, because I was but little more than a child."

THE LATE EARL OF CARNARVON. -- The funeral
of this lamented nobleman was directed by his will to
be strictly private, bat such was the respect entertained
for his memory by his neighbours and tenantry, that on
the arrival of the hearse of Newbury, on its F, ay to the
family seat, Ilighclere Castle, the shops were all closed,
and it was met near the entrance by the mayor, a,;der-
inen, and town-clerk, with many of the leading inhabi-
tants, who preceded the renatina of the lamented noble-
man through the town.

" My lore was too lasting to be destroyed, Mary,
but not too indifferent to be wounded. It was torture
to send a loving spirit away from its idol, sacrificing
present happiness to a future possibility. Do you not
think that the love which is developed with the child,
has the surest foundation, and should be equally valued
with the feeling inspired by maturer years ?
" I did and de think so, Edward, for our interest
was in all good things. It was your sympathy with
the artless pleasures of childhood, that led me as a
child to be pleased at your notice ; the same feeling
expanded and ripened into sincere affection, and time
has but shown the truth of our simple instinct. My
dear mother now believes that no harm would hare
come of our continued acquaintance, that an obedi-
ence to a foolish custom was but following an error,
although the intention on her part was a good one."
"I do not blame your mother, Mary; she, I am
sure, did what she thought was the best. But what
need for separation of young hearts when the mu-
tual attraction is of so certain a nature as was ours.
What but sorrow can be the result—days of restless
anxiety, when the time might have been improvingly
passed ? Where intelligent feeling is manifested,
be assured no probation is required. The best
discipline is the converse of the parties implicated.
A separation may be the means of other con-
nexions being formed ; feelings dulled by hopelessness
may be triumphantly spoken of as evidence of a pas-
sion which was but fanciful, not deep, but are they
not stronger evidence of a disappointed faith ? It is
not a tantalizing deprivation which persuades us to
set greater store upon possession ; the cognizance of
beauty is the best warrant for its due appreciation ;
let us not think that the separation of two kind spirits
increases the love between them. It may give it dif-
ferent forms of expression, may lead it into different
trains of thought, but cannot add a grain to its ster-
ling weight."
" I feel that you are right, dear Edward ; the fears
I endured for the three years of our separation were
bitter in many respects. True, I had many happy
days and many happy hopes in the future ; the realiza-
tion, however, of happiness in the present seemed
impossible. Time has brought all things round as
we could best wish, though accidents might have
produced results that I trembled to think of. Oh !
every day I feel it truer that our souls are linked in
fellowship by the undying power of sympathy."
As we have seen, our young friends were enabled
to fulfil the aspirations most dear to them. We are
anxious to draw attention to the commonly received
opinion that "absence but endears." We humbly
think this must depend upon the peculiar nature of
the feelings in question. Where intelligent love in
its simplicity sees its own strength, it is impatient of
contradiction ; its fervency cannot be exalt( d by
denial. Should we succeed in raising a little thought-
ful discussion upon this point—if only to induce
consideration before action—we shall do all we hope
to do, and perhaps help to reconcile the too often
contrary decisions of the old and young.
Let mothers endeavour to guide aright the impulses
of juvenility, foster affection whenever it ig diecer-
eible, and it Love does rule the world, or should, they
will be doing the greatest good in the most pleeeurahle
manner. J. B.