Piney Woods planter and Amite union literary reflector. [volume] (Liberty, Miss.) 1838-1838, 1838-07-28
I i S q ID q u a IN la o ~ s. :
! OXEN HEART.
ny wHsHfNcroN IRVING.

romantic passions as mere fctionS OF
poets and noyelists that never existed
in real life. My observations of hu-
man nature have convinced me, that
however the surface of the character
may be chilled and frozen by the cares
Of the world and the pleasures of socie-
~, there is still warm current of af-
fiction running through the depths OF
the coolest heart, that prevents its be-
ing utterly concealed. Indeed, am
a true believer in the blind deity, and
so to the fullNextent Of his doctrines.
Shall | confess it? ] believe in broken
hearts, and the possibility of dying OF
disappointed love! | do not however,
consider it a malady often fatal to my
own sex, but firmly believe that il
withcrs down many a lovely woman
into an carly grave.
Man is the creature of interest and
ambition. His nature leads him forth
into the struggle and hustle of the
world. Love is but the establishment
ofcarly life, or song pipcd into the
intervals OF the acts. lie seeks for
fame, for fortune, for space in the
worlds thought, and dominion over his
fellow man. But the woman's life is
the history of the affections. The heart
is her world, it is there ambition strives
for empire, it is there her avarice
seeks for hidden treasure. She sends
forth her sympathics on adventure; she
ernbarks her whole soul in the traffic
Of affection; and if shipwrecked her
case is hopeless-lor il is bankruptcy
of the heart.
10 a man the disappointment of
love may occasion some bitter pangs;
it wounds some feelings of tenderness;
it blasts some prospects Of felicity; bus
he is an active being-he can dissipatc
his thoughts in the whirl of various oc-
equations, or plunge into the tide Of
pleasure; or ifthe scene of disappoint-
ment be too full of painful association,
he can shift his love at will, and taking
as it were the wings Of the morning,
can fly to the uttermost parts of the
earth and be at rest.
But woman's is comparatively fixed
and mcditatiye life. Sic is more the
companion of her own thoughts and
feelings; and ifthey are turned to min
isters Of sorrow, where shall she look
for consolation? Her lot is to be WOO
ed and won; and if unhappy in her
love, her heart is like some fortress that
has been captured and sacked. and
abandoned and left desolate.
How many bright eyes grow din
how many rosy cheeks grow pale--how
many lovely forms fade away into the
tomb, and none can tell the cause that
blighted their loneliness. As the dove
will clasp its wings to its side, and CO.
yer and conceal the arrow that is prey
ing upon its vilals, so it is the nature
of woman to hide from the world pangs
of wounded affection. The love of a
delicate female is always shy and ST.
EVEN when fortunate, she scarce
ly breathes it to herself; but when
otherwise she burics il in the recess of
her bosom, and there lets it cover and
brood among the ruins Of her peace
With her desire has failed. The great
charm of existence is at an end. She
neglects all the cheerful exercises that
gladden. the spirits, quicken the pulses,
and send the tide Of life in heal.hful
currents through the veins. Her rest
is broken-the refrcshment of sleep is
poisoned by melancholy dreams-"dry |
sorrows drink her blood" until her en-
feebled frame sinks under the last ex-
ternal assailant. Look to her after a
little while, and you will find friend
hip weeping over her untimely grave
and wondering ono, who but lately /
glowed with all the radiance Of health
and beauty, should now be brought
down to "darkness and the worm"
You will be told Of some wintry chill,
some slight indisposition, that laid her
Iow-but no one knew the mental NAL
ady that previously slapped her strength
and made her SO easy prey to the
spoiler.
She is ike some tender tree, the
pride and beauty Of the grove; grace
full in its form, bright III its foliage, but
with the worm preying at its core.l