The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-05-20
First

4 40 VIZ oAs-tuStOuudShfp polIltA Oh Q1I-
ference between man and woman that
woman has no ffrstlove. 9The long abba.
bet OF her affections is without any dis
tinct end or>begipning; abe mounts by
insensible gradAtions from dolls and
kittens and net brothers to the zenith of
passion, to &,scend by the same insensi-
BILE gradations from the zenith of passion
through pet brothers 10 tabby cats
There Is no such event as first kiss
forms in boys life to mark for woman
the transition from girlhood to the sud-
den maturity OF passion; she has been
kissing, and purring, and fondling, and
pettiug from her cradle, and she will pet
and fondle, and purr, aud kiss to her
grave Love, in the technical sense of
the word, is with her little more than an
intensifying of her ordinary life. There
Is no new picture, but the colors are for
the while little heightened and the
tone raised. Presently the vividness of
color will fnde again, and the cool grays
lower the tone. and the passion Of life
will have died away. But there will be
no definite moment Mt which one could
fairly say that love came or went. A
girl who ls not whispering in q lovers
ear, will always say frankly enough that
she never knew what it was not to be in
AhSAS 40 VIC ODfIOuS uGOuCtlOQ
which she forgets to draw, that there
never can be time when she can know
what it is to be in love. Here and there.
OF course, woman may be colder, or
later III development, or more self con-
sclous, and may divide by more rigidly
marked lines the phases of her life. But
even then, if she be woman at all, she
Gun have no first love. Feeling, with
woman, has no past. as it has no future.
Every phase Of her life begins with an
act OF oblivion. Every love is first
love- II never loved any one before"
Is said, and said truly. to dozen loving
ears in succession. '.Thc first thing I
should like to meet with in Paradise, !"
said Lady Wortley Montogu, "would be
the river Lethe, the stream of Forgetfnl-
ness" But woman finds little rivulet
OF Lethe Mt every stage of her hearts
career. If she remembers the past at
oil, 1t is to offer it up as burnt sncrifice
to the deity of the present. When
Cleopatra talked about Cesar to Mark
Antony, she passed. no doubt, her fingers
through her lovers hair and wondered
how she could have ever dotted on such
bald-pated fellow as the Dictator. Had
she succeeded in charming Octavius, she
would have wondered equally ut her in
fatuatlon for such n ne'er-do-well as
Antony. And SO it is no Wonder that
woman's first love, even if she realizes il
at all, goes down in this general wreck of
the past. But in mans life it is revo-
luton. 1t is IN fact the one thing that
makes him man. The world of boyhood
ls strictly a world of boys. Sisters,
cousins, aunts. mothers, are mixed up in
the general crowd of bnrbarinns that
stand without the playground. There
are few warmer or more poetic affections
than the chivalrous friendship of school
fellows; there is no truer or more genu-
inc worship than boys worship of the
hero of the scrimmage or the cricket
held. 1t is fine world in itself, but it
Is wonderfully narrow aud restricted
world Not girl may peep over the
pallngs. Girls can't jump, or fag out,
or swarm up tree; they have nothing
to talk about as boys talk; they never
heard OF that glorious swipe of Old
Browns, they are awful milk sops, they
cry and tell mamma" they are afraid OF
governess, and of COW. It is impos-
slble to conceive a creature more utterly
contemplate in q boys eyes than a girl
of his own age usually is. Then in some
fatal moment comes the revolution. The
barrier OF contempt goes down with n
crash. The boy-world disappears.
Brown. that god of the play ground, is
cast to the owls and to the bnts. There
is sudden GOODNESS in the friendship
that was to last from school to the grave.
Paper-chases and the annual match with
the "old fellows" cease to be the highest
objects of human interest There is less
excitement than there was last year when
Il great cheer welcomes the news that
Mugby has got the Ireland The bows
life has become mud1led and confused.
The old existence is sheering off, and the
new comes shyly, ftfuly. It is only by
sort of compulsion that he will own
that he is making all this ''fnss" about a
girl. For the moment he rebels against
the spell of that ono little fnce, the
witchery Of that one little hand. He
fingers on the border of this new country
from whence there is no return to the
old playing fields. He is shy, strange TO
this world of woman, and woman's talk
and woman's ways. The surest, steadi-
est foot on the cricket ground tumbles
over foot-stools, and tangles itself in
colored woods. The sturdiest arm that
ever welded bat trembes Mt the touch of
the tiny finger. The voice that rang
~. f,.,,, l. r