Take, then, this beautiful book, rich with the productions of the pencil of genius, and with the bright imaginations of the poet and the novelist, and let it minister to the qualities in your mind and heart which make you beloved by those who know you your appreciation of the good and heroic, of the beautiful and the true. And (if there is room upon the easel of memory, when the light of reverie is shining in) let the thought of this simple offering sometimes grace it, and recall to you the wishes with which it is offered, by Yours very sincerely, F. P. Corrigan THE WINTER WREATH. THE LAST APPEAL BY N. P. WILLIS. DOES she know her own heart? Is she sure that she will ever be better loved? Should she persist in rejecting him now, as it looks likely that she will, may he not say to her prophetically, in the words of the poetess : "When thou hast met with careless hearts, and cold, Remember me, remember me!" Of all things unaccountable, a woman's heart, when first sought, is often the greatest mystery. The lover in the picture before us, is, to the eye of the looker-on, a most suitable object for her affections. He is handsome, ardent, vehement in his expressions of devotion. He has pushed his suit in every possible way before this chance meeting. This is the last appeal. Will she bless him now, by accepting his affection, or drive him from her, in the desperation of a discarded love, to feel, forever after, that his first, best tenderness was lavished in vain? Alas, with how little knowledge of the world-with what ignorance of what she chooses from -with what blindness as to the comparative value of the heart she rejects or chooses-woman oftentimes makes the all-important selection of a partner for life! In simple and primitive society, for which the laws of nature seem to have been intended, lovers see and know enough of each other to choose wisely. But in more artificial conditions of life, how little is there which can reliably guide the young maiden, and how fearful is the risk! |