The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1902-08-14
The Woman Heart.

N AN is the creature of interest
| I'M and ambition. His nature
/ leads him forth into the strug-
gle and hustle of the world.
Love is but the establishment of his
early life, or song piped in the inter-
walls of acts. He seeks for fame, for
fortune, for space in the worlds
thought, and dominion over his fellow
men. But woman's whole life is a
history of the affections. The heart is
her world; it is there her ambition
strives for empire-it is there her ava
rice seeks for hidden treasures. She
sends forth her sympathies on adven-
ture, she embarks her whole soul in the
traffic of affection; and if shipwrecked,
her case is hopeless for it is bank
ruptcy of the heart.
1t is a common practice with those
who have outlived the susceptibility
of early feeling, or who have been
brought up in the gay heartlessness of
dissipated life, to laugh at all love
stories, and to treat the tales of roman
tic passion as mere imaginings of now
elists and poets. My observations of
human nature have induced me to
think otherwise. They have convinced
me that however the surface of the
character may be chilled and frozen by
the cares of the world, or cultivated in
to mere smiles by the arts of society,
still there are dormant fires lurking
in the depths of the coolest bosom,
which, when once enkindled, become
impetuous and are sometimes desola-
ting in their effects. Indeed 1 am a
true believer in the blind diety and go
to the full extent Of his doctrines.
believe in broken hearts, and the
possibility of dying of disappointed
love! I do not, however, consider it
malady often fatal to my own sex; but
am convinced that it draws down
many woman to an early grave. To
a man the disappointment of love may
occasion some bitter pangs, wound
some feelings of tenderness, blast some
prospects of filicity, but he is an active
being; he may dissipate his thoughts
in the whirl of varied occupation, may
plunge into the tide of pleasure, or, il
the scene of disappointment be too full
of painful association, he can shift his
abode at will and fly to the uttermost
parts of the earth and be at rest.
But woman's is comparatively fixed,
secluded, and meditative life. She
is more the companion of her own
thoughts and feelings, andif they are
turned to ministers of sorrow, where
shall she look for consolation? Her
lot is to be wooed and won; and if un-
happy in her love, her heart is like
some fortress that has been captured,
sacked and abandoned and left DESC
late. How many bright eyes grow dim,
how many soft cheeks grow pale, and
how many lovely forms fade away in
to the grave, and none can tell the
cause that blighted their loveIiness.
AS the dove will clasp its wings to its
side and cover and conceal the wound
that is preying on its vitals, so is it the
nature of woman to hide from the
world the pangs of wounded affection.
The love of delicate female is always
shy and silent. Even when fortunate
she scarcely breathes it to herself; but
when otherwise, she buries it in the
recesses of her bosom, and then lets it
cover and brood among the ruins of
her peace.
With her, the desire of her heart
failed. the great charm of existence is
at an end. She neglects the cheerful
exercises which gladden. the spirits,
quicken the pulses and send the tide
of life in healthful currents through the
veins. Her rest is broken-the refresh
ment of sleep is poisoned by melancho-
~ dreams; "dry sorrow drinks her
blood" until her enfeebled frame sinks
under the slightest external injury.
Look for her after while, and you
will find friendship weeping for her at
the grave, and wondering that one who
but lately glowed with all the radiance
of health and beauty, should so speedi-
~ be brought down to darkness and
the worm" You will be told of some
wintry chill, some casual indisposi-
tion that laid her low, but no one
knows the mental malady that previ-
ously sapped her strength and rade
her 80 easy prey to the spoiler.
A. A. r.