more indulgent, more pitying; and one sweet weakness of our own leads to so much indulgence for others. We doubt, however, whether the term weakness be not misapplied in this case. If there be one emotion that redeems our humanity by stirring all that is generous and unselfish within us, that awakens all the poetry of our nature, and that makes us believe in that heaven of which it bears the likeness, it is love: love, spiritual, devoted, and eternal; love, that softens the shadow of the valley of death, to welcome us after to its own and immortal home. Some Greek poet says,—"What does he know who has not suffered?" He might have asked,—"What does he know who has not loved?" Alas! both questions are synonymous. God help the heart that breaks with its after knowledge!
How sad seemed the lot of a young girl, touched by all the keen susceptibilities of youth, full of gentle and shrinking tenderness, fated to be unreturned! Nothing can com-
