many days and nights of patient and wearing thinking, light seemed to dawn, and I saw my way clearly to the conclusion which I have come to-that Love is, in its essence, an inflammable gas, which produces in a nuptial match, as in a common match, an instantaneous light. Unless there existed a latent heat which, by some secret process, was called into action, it seems impossible to account for that love at first sight, which is by no means uncommon, when the heart ignites before the head is aware, and when reason is dislodged and sent adrift without even the formality of a notice. The language of nature on such occasions seems strongly to confirm this theory. The spark is said to be kindled -the passion-struck youth confesses his flame his imagination is heated-his declarations are glowing and fervent his eye lights up-he is described as burning with ardour, and the sincerity of his affection is measured by its warmth. All this indicates an inflammability somewhere. It shows that there is some inward part or particle in the system which catches fire; this, I apprehend, spreads onward till it reaches the breast, for in the human fabric there is no party-wall, and a portion of the heart being consumed turns to a white ash, out of which Love is engendered, and from the moment of his birth extends his lordly empire over the whole frame. No nativity can, in my opinion, be proved upon better evidence. All nature seems to bear testimony to its authenticity. The fact is borne out, moreover, by all the discoveries in modern chemistry. Caloric, which is the name given to every substance which produces the sensation we call heat, is the great principle of life, and consequently of love, without which life could not go on. But I think I hear some objector say, "Well, but as caloric is diffused over all bodies, how happens it that we are not all alike affected by its influence?" Now, that we are not, is manifest from the number of elderly maidens and superannuated bachelors that abound in the world. This objection admits of an explanation equally clear and satisfactory. Caloric is more or less active in all bodies; and it is in proportion to the greater or less degree of its activity, that the feeling of love is excited. Some VOL. I. females, for example, are by nature There is no truth more observable, 1 1 appears to me more demonstrable, than that the whole phenomena of love may be solved by the laws of chemical affinity. What, for instance, can elucidate this theory more clearly than the account given of combustion by that great professor of chemistry, Dr. Thomson: "When a stone, or brick, is heated, it undergoes no change except an augmentation of temperature; and when left to itself it soon cools again, and becomes as at first."* It is impossible to describe the heart of an incombustible old bachelor, in terms more exact. "But," adds the learned professor," with combustible bodies the case is very different. When heated to a certain degree in the open air, they suddenly become much hotter of themselves, continue for a considerable time intensely hot, sending out a copious stream of caloric and light. This after a certain period begins to diminish, and at last ceases altogether. The combustible body has now undergone a most complete change; it is converted into a substance possessing very different properties, and no longer capable of combustion." Can any illustration be more beautiful, or more correct. It may be imagined by some, that if this theory of combustion, as applied to the phenomenon of love, be true, that the heart- to use the language of the poet-would be always "faithful to its fires;" that it would burn steadily on till it was consumed, and that there would be no such thing as fickleness, and inconstancy, in the world. But permit me to show that this does not follow. To testify this, I need only cite the authority of Berthollet-and there can be no higher-to prove that any particle of matter is indestructible; that the burnt substance is, in no instance, destroyed by combustion, and that this process decomposes the body, "and sets its several parts at liberty to separate from each other, and to form new and varied combinations."+ Thus it would appear that faithlessness in the one sex, and coquetry in the other, is inherent in the very nature of love. It seems to be an attribute of the "sacred flame," that its particles should fly off and form new compounds. This is an interesting fact; and if duly understood, jealousy would be at an end. Jaundiced eyes would be as rare as diamond eyes. Love, that like war, has had its army of martyrs, would not hereafter have a single victim. There would be no weeping or gnashing of teeth every where would the voice of the turtle be heard in our land, and the reign of harmony would be universal. If, then, any one hereafter asks, What is Love? let him seek the solution in the elements of chemistry. Let public lectures be established in our new Universities, tracing the operations of the one to the laws of the other, and pointing out the common origin of both. Then would Love, which is now deemed an art, be raised to the dignity of a science. It would likewise contribute much to the diffusion of useful knowledge, if lovers would publish annually their philosophical transactions. It would be further of great advantage, if the two sexes were jointly to set on foot an establishment to be called the "New United Service Club." Being a bachelor, I throw out this suggestion most disinterestedly, having passed the age beyond which I would propose that a bachelor should be blackballed. But should this plan of a grandjunction be carried into effect, I trust that my patriotic devotion to the happiness and interest of the sex may obtain for me the privilege of being an honorary member. S. LINES Written on the first page of a Lady's Album. As a portress at the gate Dr. Thomson on Chemistry, vol. i. p. 417. + Berthollet, vol. i. p. 163. Dropping curtsies, as I stand,- The lovely landscape through and through: Princely hall and mouldering tower, Summer flowerets blossoming, In this small compass thou mayst see: Then onward gentle friend and view The pleasant landscape through and through! M. R. MITFORD. BUSY-BODIES. A BLUNDERING BUSY-BODY. THERE is a great sameness in the characteristics of all the varieties of Busy-bodies; nevertheless, while some are comparatively harmless and their circles of mischief small, others possess a tact for making themselves universally disagreeable. All their schemes seem founded in folly, and persevered in, on the narrow, selfish principle which is not content to be successful, unless to the exclusion of all other pretenders. The BLUNDERING BUSY-BODY is of this kind; he is not willing that others should be admired or supported. He will try all the means his shallow head suggests for the furtherance of his own plans; but if another propose any thing that can divide public attention, the original is temporarily abandoned, while its superficial projector throws obstacles in the way of his rival; a rival not only in a similar measure, but in fame of whatever kind, without reference to the object. The BLUNDERING BUSY-BODY is an egotist of the first water; he is so wrapped up in his whims that he breaks through all the bounds of decorum, without being sensible he is taking a liberty, and vainly imagines the importance of his object justifies the most offensive intrusions. He is sufficiently raised in his own opinion to adopt a familiarity with those far above him in mental capacity as well as in rank, and this vanity leads him to commit the most absurd errors, and to give offence without once dreaming of consequences. He considers the possession of a little property a passport to all societies, and admittance at all hours to all persons. He is one of those empty animals who will inquire if a person be at home, and bounce into every room in the house without waiting for his answer; he is, withal, weak enough to consider that when he has broken in upon a domestic circle at the most unseasonable period, or under the most rude and embarrassing circumstances, he has only to pronounce a silly apology, take the best vacant chair, and make himself at home, when he is heartily wished abroad. He has that happy absence of common sense which prompts him to ask interviews of his superiors, for alleged important matters, and, when obtained, to disgust the individuals with the frivolity of his proposals; nay, he even takes credit for having had a flattering reception, when he has, in a courtier's language, which is always civil and obliging, been shown the door. His schemes are like himself, not only useless but foolish; yet such is his love of being at the head of a project, that he will juggle some greater fool than himself out of any novel plan, and assume all the credit of having originated it. It is needless to say that none of his schemes succeed. They attract a few weak men who lend their names to any thing, and after they have been laughed at by one half the town because of their folly, and by the other because of their blundering projector, they are abandoned, to the infinite satisfaction of those who have been dolts enough to listen to the sapient schemer. The BLUNDERING BUSY-BODY is always in some scrape; he cannot join a company without showing that he thinks himself wiser than the rest; he cannot be in a theatre without quarrelling with the plan of the house, or the conduct of the audience; he cannot belong to a society but he offends with his pompous nothings, and is cut by the members for his impertinence; he cannot enter a police-office without finding fault with the magistrate, and getting turned out for his pains; he cannot buy a pennyworth of wafers without grumbling about the quantity, nor settle a washerwoman's bill without differing about the odd halfpence. He cannot sit down at a table without arguing against the cookery, nor take a glass of wine without discovering some odd flavour which his own has not. If he take coffee, he stares into his cup and examines the contents, that he may find some fault in its quality, for the pleasure of pointing out a remedy; and he glories if the silver spoon be dull, that he may rudely recommend a new powder for cleaning it. In private, as much as in public, his affectation of superiority is disgusting. His schemes are as various and vicious as his conduct. From paying his boot maker, to paying the national debt, his way alone is the proper one. From taxing his friend's patience, to taxing his enemy's pocket, he is the beau ideal of an assessor. The proposed destruction of any particular interest, demands from him no consideration. If any of the new-fangled projects which he may have either invented or adopted, strike at the root of the church property, the booby thinks it quite right to ask for the sanction of the bishops. If it aim at the destruction of lawyers' profits, he solicits, from pure ignorance of what he asks, the patronage not only of the attorneygeneral, but of attornies in general; and if it favour the objects of the lowest class of radicals, he begs the assistance of a tory duke. That such a bungling piece of nature's journey work should often be in trouble, can surprise nobody. One half his time is occupied in repairing the blunders, or the offences of the other; and one portion of his acquaintance is generally employed in apologizing, for his ill-behaviour, to the remainder. His companions are easily estimated; men of sense are soon tired, while women of sense see even their characters endangered by intimacy, for his very blunders are blighting. Designing knaves who have objects of their own to serve, truckle to, and mislead him. Successive disappointments have made him suspicious of all but those who do truckle. He is tolerated in no company except as a butt; he is respected by nobody, except for his money; he is unsettled from morning till night. Perpetually out of humour with himself, and with all but his new acquaintance, at the failure of his plans, yet vain of his superiority over those who are less wealthy, he has always some offensive thing to utter, and scarcely cares on whom it lights. Like all those who are reckless of wounding, he would rather be horsewhipped and kicked, than run the risk of killing. He has sufficient cunning to overreach the poor noodles who entertain his schemes, and generally contrives to make a profit of their purses; but, if he meet |