THINGS THAT IIAPPKN EVERY DAY. NO. I. 501 



fetters of physical restraint may be snapped by the hand of man ; but 

 the seas, the mountains, and the deserts of the moral world defy our 

 power ; and the metaphysical manacles of moral obligation, mock the 

 rebellious efforts of myriads of captive minds. A few words carelessly 

 uttered had interposed a lasting bar ; and the nuptials of a mortal and a 

 virgin of the moon were not more impossible than those of Dacre and 

 Myrrha. Nevertheless, sometimes when gazing upon each other, their 

 spirits mingled in the dream of love, and seemed absorbed in perfect 

 unity ; but ever and anon the maddening thought returned, and swept 

 between their hearts, like a dark river, dividing with its flowing breadth 

 two friendly shores. Why then did they permit their hearts to fall a 

 prey to love? why were they so weak? so wicked? Go to the moth, 

 he'll answer your question as he flutters round the flame that singes his 

 wings : or, ask the bird that falls a victim to the serpent's gaze : or, the 

 child that gambols on the sands regardless of the circling tide that 

 threatens him with death. They knew not their danger. Love steals 

 over the heart imperceptibly ; like fatigue from the fresh air, we 

 drink it in slowly, till our insidious languor triumphs over our 

 strength. 



Let us leap over the gulf of misery (innocent misery) through which 

 Dacre and his beloved passed before they could summon resolution to 

 tear their hearts asunder, and part for ever. They did part parted as 

 thousands have done as thousands will do victims of that undying 

 anguish which springs from the beautiful dream of sympathy, and 

 desolates divided bosoms that have loved too well. 



When the numan heart has once been attuned to tenderness it can 

 hardly relapse into his former state of indifference. If the deep foun- 

 tains of affections are broken open, their waters will find a channel here 

 or there. In vain did Dacre lavish the torrent of his love upon the 

 mental image that alternately soothed his spirit and maddened it to 

 despair. Exhaustion followed the quick alternations of imaginary bliss, 

 and real misery ; and subdued in heart arid mind he reviewed the past 

 and mused upon the future. He perceived the folly of indulging a 

 hopeless passion, and questioned the wisdom of defying fate by rejecting 

 the woman to whom he was irrevocably united. 



Days were spent in deliberation ; nights in the conflict of contending 

 emotions ; and finally, he resolved to force his affections into the 

 channel they had hitherto spurned. He determined to recal his wife. 

 He wrote to her, but sometime elapsed without an answer. A second 

 letter shared the same fate, and Dacre felt, or thought he felt, anxiety. 

 A third letter brought no reply ; and flinging himself into a stage he 

 came to town. Could he ever forget the morning of his arrival ! It 

 was mid-winter. Feeble daylight struggling through the smokey 

 canopy, dawned greyly as he rattled over the stones. Before him lay 

 the lengthening line of Oxford-street. On either side, the still closed 

 shutters of the shops, the dying lamps, that scarce survived the vigil of 

 the night, and here and there an early artizan hastening to his toil, 

 announced at once the lingering reign of Nox, the coming empire of the 

 day. Now and then a slip-shod wench with trundling mop appeared to 

 cleanse the threshold of her master's door. Benumbed with cold, and 

 desolate, the houseless vagrant on the lordly mansions ample steps, 

 dozed and woke, and dozed again, enduring misery with patient mien. 

 The morning coaches with their prancing nags ; their muffled passengers 



