<span style="color:grey">it, like terpillar, eats

    <span style="color:grey">test book, the rose.

    It is a common practice lived tibility of early feeling, or  up in tlessness of dissipated life, to laug all love stories, and to treat tales of romantic passion as mere ?ctions of novelists and poets. My observations on ure o t, er may be civated into mere smiles by ts of society, still t ?res lurking in t bosom, imes desolating in ts. Indeed, I am a true believer in ty, and go to tent of rines. S?--I believe in broken s, and ty of dying of disappointed love! I do not,  a malady often fatal to my o I ?rmly believe t it o an early grave.

    Man is ture of interest and ambition. ure leads o truggle and bustle of t t of ervals of ts. une for space in t, and dominion over  a   ions. t is  is tion strives for empire--it is treasures. Sure; sraf?c of affection; and if s is a bankruptcy of t.

    to a man, tment of love may occasion some bitter pangs; it enderness--it blasts some prospects of felicity; but ive being--e s in tion, or may plunge into tide of pleasure; or, if tment be too full of painful associations,   aking, as it ;?y to ttermost parts of t rest.quot;

    But ively a ?xed, a secluded, and meditative life. Ss and feelings; and if turned to ministers of sorroo be ress t ured, and sacked, and abandoned, and left desolate.

    eyes groomb, and none can tell t bligs o its side, and cover and conceal t is preying on