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heart so sensitive, and full of emotions acute and tender."
Oft, then, they have laughed me to scorn, while their eyes assumed a repulsive indifference, if not contempt, whose looks seemed to imply that however fair the form without, the heart did not correspond, and therefore I thought it was a pity that such a fair creature, capable of charming and enslaving every man that came in her way, should have so cruel a heart as to glory in the torture she had inflicted, and it seemed to give her pleasure the more that I suffered by the cruel glances from her eyes. Others would run off with a half-suffocated laugh, that was apt to direct one to where they had fled, while I exclaimed, O come sweet maid, and resume thy willing empire o’er the willing mind, or, whither hast thou gone, and left me here alone, to mourn thy absence? The sun may smile, and rivers flow, and flowerets deck the plain: from me ye’ve fled, and left me to complain. Is there in this world a heart that feels all the horrors of disappointment, which too often humanity cannot surmount with a degree of fortitude and strength necessary to bear up the drooping spirit of a chequered life? It is not materially necessary what is the object we have in view, however important or trifling—it is of no consequence, so be the mind wishes to gain and possess it, though often we are disappointed by the real or imaginary advantage gained by the possession of such an object. Such is the case with a fine woman; we anticipate more than it is
