The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1906-11-14
The Philosophy
Of Kissing.
BY MRS. LEONARD MARSHALL,

BY MRS. LEONARD MARSHALL.
One little kiss for the red roses
of love. It fingers on the, lips we
hold most precious, and ends with
a sigh, for love and sorrow are
tw1n sisters; they have gonehand
in hand since the world began.
Science and microbes have tried
in vain to discredit kisses-the
good old fashion still permeates
the country. Kisses have been
sung by poets, immortalized
in marble and on canvas. The di-
vine skill of an artist gave thrills
ing, palpitating life to the wing
ed Eros, and the glow of Psyche's
marble beauty is akin to flesh
and blood. This is pictured the
first kiss of Love in youth, the
revelation of the great Unknown
in the early flush of dawn.
Now behold the forest wrap
ped in silence, for the day is done,
the song of feathered creatures is
hushed, supple little snakes lie
coiled beneath the bracken, and
the spiders are weaving their
gossamer nets for the morrow.
Sleepless, silent life throbs be-
meath every blade of grass, and
fairies are dancing on the.green.
The moon rises slowly like an
eastern queen, rending the veil of
night and turning the trees to
glimmering silver. This is Diana's
hour, for darkness falls on the
forest again. The dreaded hunt
ress is speeding to her lover
Endymion sleeps. The goodness
bends her stately head, crowned
by the crescent moon and her
lips llnger on the beauteous face
with closed, long dashed eyes.
Diana the peerless, the cold, the
pure, is bound by the sovereign
power of Love. The scene fades
the Pagan world is no more.
We are in the garden of an
italian CASTILLO, Paolo and Fran
cesca are together reading from
the same book, but their eyes see
no printed words, they do but
listen to the throbbing of their
hearts. Perish honor and all
things earthly for the ecstasy of
the long mad kiss that brought
them Death, the Death that was
powerless to separate the Lovers
in the Eternity of their punish
ment.
Or in the luminous night in
Verona, is not Romeo risking all
for his hour of love?
These are the histories of the
worlds kisses.
There is a love so undeniable,
SO perfect in its completeness,that
nothing can stay it's mad career.
1t is the "tempesta del Cuore,'' a
very cyclone of passion, stronger
than Death and as remorseless,
It breaks through the shams and
make-believes of decorous every
day life. startling sleeping NOR
tails in their poor little shreds and
tatters of conventional happiness,
for they have lived long in the
valley, forgetful that on the
mountain tops young eaglets fut-
ter in the face of the sun. Il
shows them in flash the hidden
fire in the crater of the volcano
where on the alter of the gods
men are sacrificed and consumed
Where Loves acme is reached
the end is nearer and we can but
retrace our trembling steps daz.
zled by that light that never
shone on sea or shore. For it,
kisses men have gone to theil
graves; once felt we must carry
their stigma for everymore dream
ing tof their perfect joys wher
colder kisses fall to our lot. There
are kisses and kisses.
Babies are the links that binc
mothers to heaven-and also
keep them at home when they
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