pomegranate put forth." And these are still the desires, these the wishes of a heart of love; and these are the buds of innocence, and, therefore, of happiness. Nor are these pictures of felicity, these ideas of happiness, imaginary; they do not, like the Dead-sea fruit, look bright to the eye, but turn to ashes in the mouth. All these images of virtue and of love-all these pictures of rural happiness-are true, there is no deception in them. It is the world which deceives us, in holding out its fleeting gauds-its phantoms of pleasure, bubbles of wealth, or honours which fade ere twined around the brow, and which, having raised our desires, our cupidity, or our ambition, leaves us, at last, to plunge into the midst of its vices, follies, and fearful consequences.

Love is the only real good mortals can enjoy either above or below: and here the country, with its quiet and its beauties, is the most auspicious place for its growth to maturity. And when the love which has prompted two beings to shun society and live alone has apparently waned away, we see it reappearing in love for their children, and the man becomes the supporter, the protector of his family, while all that is in him noble, powerful, or generous, becomes excited, active, and praiseworthy exertion. And

the mother-oh! never did the graces of a virgin give greater transport than now that she is the mother of a family, whom her solicitude and love have reared. Wife! Mother! no words in the human vocabulary are so touching as these; and by both these titles can woman develop the activities of love, but here she shines pre-eminent,the very day-star-nay, the very sun of home! for

"Her children rise up and call her blessed;
Her husband also, and he praiseth her.

Give her of the fruit of her hands,

And let her own works praise her in the gates."

Oh, Mahometan! contrast thy own dark lot with a life like this; conquer thy passions, subdue thy desires, and take to thee but one wife to thy bosom, that, guided by her, thy mind may expand and compass the vast and the sublime. Or, if thou art ground down by passions and appetites to the condition of the slave or the tyrant, look upon this picture of happiness and of felicity-then look upon thyself, and blush.

CHAPTER IV.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.

Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth;
Springs by the calendar; must wait for sun-
For rain, matures by parts,-must take its time
To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns
A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed!
You look for it, and see it not; and, lo!

E'en while you look, the peerless flower is up,
Consummate in the birth!

KNOWLES.

SHE was a phantom of delight,
When first she gleam'd upon my sight-
A lovely apparition sent

To be a moment's ornament.

WORDSWORTH.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.

Go, thou vision, wildly gleaming,
Softly on my soul that fell;

Go, for me no longer beaming,

Hope and beauty, fare thee well.

WOLFE.

Nor many years ago, there used to be pointed out, upon the streets of Glasgow, a man whose intellects had been unsettled in a strange and marvellous way. When a youth, he happened to pass a lady in a crowded thoroughfare,—a lady whose extreme beauty, though dimmed by the intervention of a veil, and seen but for a passing moment, made an indelible impression on his mind. The lovely vision came before his view, shot rapidly past him, and was in an instant lost amidst the commonplace crowd through which it moved. For a few moments he was so confounded by the tumult of his feelings, that he could not pursue, or even attempt to see it again. Yet he never afterwards forgot it, never, though