The Sun.
London, England, 1857-12-18 00:00:00

A. CHAPTER, ON LOVE .ATT..±IOHMENTS.

People like to talk about " irrevocable attachments,"
" love-broken' hearts," &e. ; but I believe that, in the
groat majority of cases, these love-lorn young ladies and
gentlemen are either very young or very silly, and that
their " irrevocable" attachments are mere delusions,
with which the heart has nothing whatever to do. He
or she who cannot conquer a predilection, when it
proves, from whatever cause, reasonable or injurious,
is but a weak, maudlin sentimentalist—not a hero or
heroine of romance ! I grant that when two people,
whose affection is founded on perfect esteem and
reFpect, are separated by adverse circumstances, their
attachment may endure for even a lifetime;
but such cases are not of everyday,occurrence. Young
ladies do not generally stop to consider whether they es-
teem the object of their preference ; they do not ask,
themselves the question, "Is this love or infatuation r
I believe that the majority of people are, not in
"love"—they are only infatuated ; and they cling to the
weakness with the mast inconceivable obstinacy, some-
times even allowing it to undermine their health and to
rain their worldly prospects. And yet I have known
these very girls, after making the greatest sacrifices--
sacrifices, not of days but of years—suddenly abandon
the idol—not because be has proved himself unworthy--
oh, no, but because they have heard some slight defect
of his commented upon and ridiculed by one of their
own sex ! We cannot worship the ridiculous?
I remember a case is point. A sentimental young
lady became infatuated by a very devoted admirer ; and
not only engaged herself to him, but for his sake se-
cluded herself from society ; lived in what she con-
sidered an atmosphere of most exalted sentiment ;
and rather gloried in the thought of the many bar-
riers which lay in the way of her union with the
object of her affections, and of the possibility of her
dying an " old maid" for h's sake. Though constantly
annoyed by hearing little anecdotes which conveyed an
unfavourable impression ef the beloved, she would not
credit them, but clung to him all the more closely. At
last—sad to relate—she one day fell into conversation
with a lady, who, unaware of the cruel blow she wag
levelling at an illustrious worship, mentioned the unfor-
tunate Romeo as " a nice little man." Alas, alas, for
Romeo ! Though the idol did not at once fall to the
ground, the pedestal began to give way. Vainly did
Juliet think within herself, "It is all very well for her
to call him little'—she is so tall." It would not do--
the horrid word well d helmet her ; cl:thenceforth, he
was no longer an ideal, but, a man. lie was no longer
"Romeo," but " Thomas," or " John," or whatever his
name may have been. Let a notion of ridicule once
enter a woman's mind, and affection must be strong
indeed to stand the test. In this case it had the most
salutary effect on the lady's feelings ; and that which
not all his falsehocd and ingratitude bad been able to
effect, was accomplished by that unfortunate diminutive.
When once she began to regard him as a common,
everyday motel, his faults peeped out slowly, one after
another ; till at last she summoned courage to dismiss
him altogether. Now, this was a case of infatuation
which left the lady perfectly heart-whole ; but 1 knew
of another that did not terminate so happlily. The poor
g rl loved on, patiently and sadly ; for she was of a meek
and yielding nature, utterly devoid of the natural
strength of character with which the other was en-
dowed. The man was vain—selfish—heartless! She died;
and his name was the last on her lips! Bat was this eithti
love ? Oh, no ! Love—true love—is a pure undying feel-
ing, founded on esteem—esteem alone. I believe that
numbers of men and women go though life, marry hapPilY
(or fancy they do), are excellent wives and husbands,
and die, without knowing that they have never loved
Some are incapable of it ; some never meet the one
kindred soul who alone can call it forth ; but I believe
thatmr
.Jonesvery f few
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neat, his dinner ready, his slippers well-aired, and the
indispensable accompaniment of these little comforts
ready to bestow on him the usual vapid .smile, and in-
sipid kiss ; and isn't he just as happy as he would be if
he were in a frantic state of love ? Of course he is I--
perhaps, the mutton would not be so well done, nor the
potatoes so floury, if Mrs. Jones were " a beautiful,
high-soule I being all poetry and sentiment," as romanoeli
have it. —Almost, or Creaked Ways; by Anna Lale.