The West Virginia journal. [volume] (Charleston, W. Va.) 1864-1877, 1865-01-11
First Love-.

Mr.. Yates, the novelist, in his new
work, "Broken to Harness." thus dis.
courses on the character Of FIRST love.
He regards it, it will be seen, as species
of love we never feel again in our lives
Marvellous, marvellous time 80 short
! 10 its duration, but leaving such an in.
delible impress on the memory A
charmed period, "a hasbi,h.d dreamy i'm.
possible ever to be renewed, a prolonged
iutoxicatiou scarcely capable Of realiza-
ton 10 ones sober moments. A thing
Of once, which gone, never comes again,
but leaves behind it remcmbrances which,
while they cause the lips to curl ut their
past folly, yet give the heart twinge in
the reflection that the earuestness which
unbalanced the folly, the power Of en-
tcring into and swayed by them, the
youth-that is it, after all confess it -
! the youth is vanished forever and aye.
What and where was the glamour, the
power Of which you dimly remember
but cannot recall? Put aside the claret
jug, and with your feet on the fender, as
YOU sit alone, analyze that by gone time.
The form comes clearly out Of the mist
the dark brown banded hair, the earnest
eyes; the light, lithesome figure and
delicate hands and with them the float.
ing rcminisccnce Of violet perfume,
subtle, delicate essence, which made your
heart beat with extra vigor, even before
your eyes rested on what they lopGed
| for. Kisses and hand clasps and ardent
glanccs were the current coin Of those
DAYS; one Of either Of the former
missed, say at parting for the night, for
instance, made you wretchcd; one Of
the latter shot in a different direction
sent you to toss sleepless.all night on
your bed, and to rise with the face Of a
murderer, with something not very diff.
ferent from the mind of one. There
we're heart.achcs in those days; real,
dead, dull pains, sickeuing longings,
spa.ms Of hope and fear; dim dread of
missing the prize on the attainment Of
which the whole life was set; physical
state which would be as impossible to
your mind now as would the. early in.
fautilc freshness to your lined cheek or
the curling locks of boyhood to your
grizzled pate. 1t is gone, clean gone.
Perhaps it snapped off short with q
wrench, leaving its victims with gaping
wound which the soaring iron Of time
has completely cicatrizcd; perhaps it
melowcd down into calm, peaceful con.
|jugal, and subsequently patcrnal affec.
ton. But tell me not, 0, hard.hearted
and worldly minded bachelor, intent on
the subimation Of self, and cynically
enough disposed to all that is innocent
and tender-tell me not, O.. husband
however devoted to your wife, however
proud Of your ofSpring-tcll me not
that a regret for that bauished time does
not sometimes cross your mind-that
the sense of having lost the power Of
enjoying such ,wo-pcnny happiness, ay,
and such petty misery, does not cost you
an occasional pang. 1t still goes on,
that tragi.comcdy, the same as ever,
though our places arc now in the cush-
toned gallery among the spectators, in.
stead Of on the stage, and We witness
the performance, not with envy, not with
admiration, but with strange feeling Of
bewildcrmcnt that such things once we're
with us-that the dalliances Of the pup.
pets, and the liquid jarsou which they
speak, once were our delight, mud that
we once had the pass key to THAT blissful
world whose pleasures and whose SORROWS
now alike fail to interest US.