Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1828-03-26

I, hat there Is nothing which can I'll the
place Of engrossing love within the hui
man soul. ,..
Yes! it is this. which, as it is happy
or unfortunate, gives the colour to our
life. And easier would it be to wash
the hue from the Ethiop's skin, than
that complexion, be it brilliant, be i;
gloomy, from our hearts. 1t is the pre-
vailing thr' 'ad running through the
whole woof Of our existence; at every
turn it re-appears, and we carry it with
us to the last. Some temperaments
believe there are, to which all this is
unknown: their possessors will regard
what ! have said as the folles of ro-
mantle mind, or the exaggerations of
an in1amed one. But those whose
blood runs through their veins with
the warmth ofhumanity, not stagnating
with the torpor ofa rcptilc--those who
do not affect to be too cold, ...
For human natures daily food,
will own, that, whether it comes earli-
er OF later; whether its issues tend to
happiness or to misery; still the great
affection of our life does give the tone
to its whole future tenour; it becomes
part of ourselves, and come what may,
so does it remain.
Time may soften its influence, and
render ITS recurrence upon the mind
less frequent; but there are moments
when it aUiN be heard; there are sea-
sons, when like the mighty stream, it
breaks down all the dikes and dams.
that worldly intercourse has raised to
keep it out; and ii rushes at once into
its ancient channel. The days of our
early feelings do not indeed rise upon
us unbroken and entire: we look
through the mists, Of years, and it is
only their more salient and towering
parts, that the eye of memory can
reach. These are the landmarks Of
our way through life: they never sink
beneath the horizon: and it is very
much from this cause, that such recoi-
lections are always of such an agtat-
ing nature. 1t is to those circumstan-
ces OF delight and of pain, which have ,
moved us the most strongly that we
look. The gentler feelings, which
have existed during the course of our
attachment, arc now lost to view, or at,
the most, arc blended into one indis-,
tinct and shadowy mass. But the !,
higher and fiercer emotions, those Of
depth and intensity, remain. Every
accident of time, place and circum- d.
stance, which relates to them, is gar
nered in the heart, or rather, has nes-
tied there of itself. How minutely,
how vividly, do some passages OF our T,
existence, buried, as they are beneath
a heap of past years, dwell in our
minds! They seem recent as yester- :
day: every whispered word, every
tone, look and gesture, are remember,
ed with an accuracy, which is start
llngly contrasted with the fading. of,
more ordinary occurrences. Distance
vanishes-time is as nothing. These
things remain fresh and real, as at the
first moment. Alas! it rives the heart
when the truth recurs, that they are
only memory's illusion. '''' .."
Who is there that has forgotten.
who ever can forget, the first ayowal
of mutual passion between him and
the woman of his chosen love ?--the
place, the hour, every accessory Cir
cumstance, are they not before him
now ?-The look Of fond abandonment,
at last unchecked; the tone of fond
ness no longer dissembled do we. not
see those eyes beam ?--do we not hear
that dear, dear voice, as it spoke to I,
US, modulated in the key of enthrall-, +,
ing love? Does not our memory al
most cheat our senses, and give to us
its own creations as realities? Alas ="
tits but for time we start from that
trance Of sweet thought, and the des-
oate truth strikes upon our heart ID
agony 1--WE turn to embrace a form
Of living warmth and beauty and, like
lxion, we find it but cloud. Oh!
who would not give years of life for
that image Of the mind to be realized, ,,
for one moment? who would not fop-'f
felt all for the joys Of that hour to. re-.
cur! No! we cannot restore it---wes.
cannot replace it. Imagination has !,