observation. A good many of George Sand's people are
thoroughly in love; and so are a good many of George
Meredith's. Altogether, there is plenty to read on the
subject. If the root of the matter be in him, and if he has
the requisite chords to set in vibration, a young man may
occasionally enter, with the key of art, into that land of
Beulah which is upon the borders of Heaven and within sight of
the City of Love. There let him sit awhile to hatch
delightful hopes and perilous illusions.

One thing that accompanies the passion in its first blush
is certainly difficult to explain. It comes (I do not quite
see how) that from having a very supreme sense of pleasure in
all parts of life - in lying down to sleep, in waking, in
motion, in breathing, in continuing to be - the lover begins
to regard his happiness as beneficial for the rest of the
world and highly meritorious in himself. Our race has never
been able contentedly to suppose that the noise of its wars,
conducted by a few young gentlemen in a corner of an
inconsiderable star, does not re-echo among the courts of
Heaven with quite a formidable effect. In much the same
taste, when people find a great to-do in their own breasts,
they imagine it must have some influence in their
neighbourhood. The presence of the two lovers is so
enchanting to each other that it seems as if it must be the
best thing possible for everybody else. They are half
inclined to fancy it is because of them and their love that
the sky is blue and the sun shines. And certainly the weather
is usually fine while people are courting. . . In point of
fact, although the happy man feels very kindly towards others