112 THE FOGY DAYS AND NOW; 



we honestly deem this to be an error, the fellow may lose his 

 gumption, and we solmemnly opine, thats hit; fur how can a 

 fellow lose his heart, when it is hitched on tight to the liver 

 and lights, it seems to me unpossible fur the heart to come out 

 without bringing all the in-nards out with it and that would 

 wind up the whole kerflumux, I imagine. 



I remember vividly when the passion of love first occupied 

 my vitals, my heart was unremoved; indeed it swelled up big- 

 ger, and a protuberance seemed to have forced uj) into the 

 thorax, and caused a quite uncomfortable, and choking sensa- 

 tion, but subsequent circumstances have corroborated my con- 

 victions that my heart remained in my bosom and continued to 

 perform in a desultary way its accustomed functions, so I still 

 surmise that all this talk about the loosing of the heart is 

 nothing but gass, and also the reports about hearts abursting 

 is bosh and totally onreliable. 



But it was not my purpose on this occasion to annihilize the 

 heart, or dissectify the subject of love in all its ramifications, 

 my primoval object was narration. I wanted to norate the 

 history of my experience Avhen I was first conflumicated by 

 this phenomenon, when its phantasmagoi'a first developed in 

 my tender youth. 



How fearfully is the human bosom affected when first 

 awakened from its lethargy by the passion of love. I had 

 arrived at the plastic and sweet age of sixteen when its first 

 waves swathed my peaceful breast, when its swashing billows 

 rolled over the component parts of my cupidical system. It was 

 a protracted siege, and lor many months belt me suspended over 

 the dark chasms of doubt and hope, until the chords that sup- 

 ported my trembling carcass became fraazled, and at last the 

 weakened strands snapped asunder, and like Lucifer fell 



