its contact brings.  These experiences are teachings, and the bitter ones the best.  To be happy, we must have been miserable; it is the idiosyncracy of the mind, to judge by comparison; and the eternal absence of grief leaves the mind unappreciative of the incidents and excitements which bring to him or her who have suffered, such exquisite enjoyment.  The rue of life is scarcely misery to those who have never tasted its ambrosia.”

“You are young, sir, thus to philosophize, and must have seen and experienced more than your years would indicate.”

“Some, sir, in an incident see all of its characters that the world in a lifetime may present.  They suffer, and they enjoy with an acuteness unknown to most natures; and in youth gain the experiences and knowledge they impart, while most of the world forget the pain and the pleasure of an incident with its evanescence.  With such, experience teaches nothing.  These progress in the world blindly and are always stumbling and falling.”

“The ladies have retired—­shall we imitate their example, sir?  This will light you to your chamber; good night.”

Alone, and kindly shielded with the darkness, the adventurer lay thoughtful and sleepless.  Here are two strange beings.  There is in the one angelic beauty animated with a soul of giant proportions, large in love, large in hate, and grandly large in its aspirations; and yet it is chained to a rock with fetters that chafe at every motion.  The other cold, emotionless, with a reserved severity of manner, which is the offspring of a heart as malignant and sinister as Satan himself may boast of.  They hate each other, but how different that hatred!  The one is an emotion fierce and fiery but without malice; the other malicious and revengeful.  One is the hatred of the recipient of an injury who can forgive; the other the hatred of one who has inflicted an injury with calculation.  Such never forgive.  And this I am sure is the relation of this brother and sister.  Deprived when yet young of the fostering care of a mother, scarcely remembering her father, she has been the ward of this cold, hard being, whose pleasure it has been to thwart every wish of this lovely being:  to hate her because she is lovely, and to aggravate into fury her resentments, and to sour every generous impulse of her extraordinary nature.  What a curse to have so sensitive a being subjected to the training of so cold and malignant a one!

There is no natural affection.  The heart is born a waste:  its loves, its hates are of education and association; and the responsibility for the future of a child rests altogether with those intrusted with its rearing and training.  The susceptibilities only are born with the heart, and these may be cultivated to good or evil, as imperceptibly as the light permeates the atmosphere.  These capacities or susceptibilities are acute or obtuse as the cranium’s form will indicate, and require a system suited to each.