The Portland daily press., 1874-09-24

Losses are Of all sorts, some too CLOSELY per-
sonal for ready recognition. We lose our
memory, our temper, our head; we lose our
good looks, all at once or by installments; !;
we lose our credit or our influence. These
losses are all more or less serious, but they do
not necessarily make an impression on the
loser. They may happen to us without our
being vividly aware of them. The losses we
are now concerned with are those which make
distinct impression, and these are material
losses outside ourseves-losSes of property,
Every loss OF property, however small, that is
painfully realized at the time, secures for it.
self niche i'll the memory. We never for
get the losses of our childhood; the toy, the
slXpence, the trumpery ornament, if its loss
once cost us pang, is one of times most
durable landmarks. What a sense of CROP
ing wonder overshadowed the first mysterious
disappearance of one of those valuables be-
fore we became accustomed to the idea of loss
in the abstract! How strange TO have it and
then to miss it forever-nO human agency
traceable Where did that purse, prophetic
of future wealth, that glittering gewgaw, go
to, that we saw it no more? What value
still attaches to these vanished treasures.
Such losses become the lasting possessions of
juvenile memory. For loss, like early death,
imparts sanctity TO things commonplace in
themselves. Loss is instant promotion. The
lost watch beats all its successors. The um-
brellas we lose were superior articles to the
faithful slaves that wear themselves to rib.
bons in our service. The sticks had ro-
nance about them akin to that lost stick of
the Antiquary's cut in the classic woods of
Hawthornden. No knife, seal or pencil-case
that we can handle equals the lost one that
hopeiessly disappeared into space. We are
half conscious in all this of a pleasing exer-
else of imagination. We magnify the depart.
ed; we do not in our heart want the lost
treasure to turn up for the purpose of verify
ing our description. Loss. so long as it con-
fines itself to our humber belongings; inn
parts tenderness and dignity to our familiar
past which it would be unwise to exchange
for restoration and possession.
But If trifies lost make an indelible impress
sion, what shall we say of losses on a grander
scale? III NY q'une affliction qui dure,"
says that close observer, La Bruyere, "qui est
celle qui Went de la perte de biens." Loss
of fortune is the only lasting affiiction. Time,
which softens all other losses, embitters this
one. We feel every moment of our whole
life how much we miss the wealth we have
lost" This sounds like cynicism, but there
are reasons for it in the nature of things.
Time finds for all other losses substitute, a
successor of some sort. The affections can
not do without an object, so they find one.
But second fortune does not come because
IL Is wanted. VI loss OF fortune we may say
that on the first shock men unconsciously
take their cue from the world; that IS, they
take losses very much as they have reason to
expect that other people will take them for
them. With some-with more than the av-
erage-the loss of fortune is understood by all
about them to be irretrievabe ruin. The old,
the unattractive, the ungifted, know this, and
look for no support from without; they real
lze the consequences, recognize the calamity
for what it is, and succumb at once Those,
on the contrary, who have something in
themselves to fall back upon, who have per-
sonal gifts which they have reason to think
stand higher in the worlds estimation than
the money they have lost, accept their mis-
fortunes more magnanimCusly. We have
known beautiful women besides Madame
Recamer cheerful and almost Indifferent un-
der pecuniary loss. This is commendable,
but they know nothing of the trial to plain
old maid under the same circumstances.
Money makes lIttle or no difference in the in
terest they create in society, in the warmth
of its welcome. They are still personages,
and to make one parsonage is all that mon
ey can do after it has supplied natures ma
terial wants. Sir Walter Scott, when the
news of the great crash came to him from
Ballantyne, showed such wonderful control
OF manAer and countenance that no one of his
household Of guests could have believed that
anything was the matter. Who can doubt
that he was supported by the worlds faith in