Squatter sovereign., 1856-06-24

Not to love Is painful too; /
But oh! it gives the greatest pain
To love and not be loved again. 4
MY HEARERs-I love to preach about |
love; for love FERNS a rosy wreath for the |
heart, in which the green leaves Of friend- |
ship, the flowers OF affection, and few |
thorns OF pain. are eniwined, just for the |
sake of variety. 1t is the precious cemen,
that adheres soul to soul-the angels in
heaven, and stimalans to fnoytals on earth. |
1t smooths down the aspefities of human
nature-lines the breast with the velvet OF
sympathy-and gives silIien coating 10
the rough exterior of humanity. To love
zrdently, deeply, dsrossily.d acknowledge
is sometimes painful; nevertheless ii is !
pleasant pain, attended with some delight
ful sensations. 1t is kind of inward
itching, which requires the continual exer-
else of scratching, and yet the irritation is
never allayed. The more we scratch, the
more we itch-and ncthing but matrimony
can serve as an effectual remedy-and
that, in TOO many instances, is far worse
than the disease.
My lriends-not to love is also paihfnl
To have all oar thoughts entombed in the
dark sepulchrs of selfishness, and our hopes
lost in the cold mists of misanthropy, is
about as bad as being confined in dun-
geon, to be' fed with the fragments of ones
former follies. The light of love, admitted
through the windows of the heart, warns
the buds Of benevclence to expand, and the
capsules of charity 10 be filled with the ripe
seeds Of sympathy. Without the genial
innocence Of love, the bosom freezes and
and becomes as barren as goose-paster
in winter. If a flower chances to bloom,
ii is destitute of fragrance; or, if it have
any, 1t wastes its sweetness, as the poet
says, upon the desert air. To be without
love is like being without fire in winter.
lamp at night, and sun at midday.
The heart that never loves is as hard as a
brick-ba., as insensible as a picked calm
to all the finer feelings, and a Stranger to
every delightful emotion. An old bache-
lor, my friends, whose heart is never
warmed with affection. is a miserable no.
body in the world. He is as cold-blooded
as turtle, and looks as melancholy as a
clam. His hopes die as soon a s they begin
10 pln-feather-there is no more sentiment
in his soul than there is music in corn
stalk fiddle-his thoughts are wrapped up
in the shroud of self-he knows not tie
pleasures attendant on the sexual amaiga-
ton of souls-his abode is fixed in the sol-
itary wild of celibacy. where all is ckeer-
less, comfortless, and dreary. There he
| lives, and there he dies, unhonored and
unwept; and when he is finally carried
away by the current of time, we can only
say, There goes another parcel of rubbish
into the gulf OF eternity!
My hearers-it is painful TO love, and
painful not to Iove-painful anyhow yon
can fix it; but oh. 1t is excruciating pain TO
love and Lot have it all wasted, or sent
home as sour as swill, is enough to make a
/ man tear his shir, o. tread on his own corns.
It's manslaughter for a girl 10 spurn a
young chaps love- when size knows thai
by SO doing she drives tie poor fellow tc
destruction in considerable OF hurry
It's murder in the first degree-it's craelt,
to helpless aniInals-it's worse than SKIN.
ming eels alive; and any female guilty o
such a wanton act ought 10 be courted BY
fiends during her lifetime, and welded Il
the devil at last. When any OF you, M
young male friends, get SO tangled up will
the object Of your loves that you don
hardly know TO which gender you belong
you know very wen that you care pre-
cious little who, what or how you are. 81
long as you remain in such happy, pleas
ing perplexity; but let the least breeze o
jealousy, doub, OF disappointment blow. yol
: straighten right out. like dead frog
Your bosoms fill up with buuermiIIs an,
bitter meditations-your stornachs wit
bile, and your heads with suicidal ideas
You grow satuTnine-get sick-neglrc
your business and then, perhaps, to win.
up the whole, admit the common stmos
phere into your gizzards with dirk knife
or yentilate ycur brains cell with pistol
: Oh. incorporated love has fed the jaw
Of Death with many a precious morssl o
humanity; and Cupid's arrow. which j
said to tickle while it wounds, sometime
tickles prery confounded hard. It's hea'
is often dipped in poison. and wo betak
the victim 1t pierces. don't know. myself