the throne where Hope is seated." But its issues seldom answer to
this oracle within. It is so seldom that just the person we want to
see comes. But of all the clamorous visitations the welcomest in
expectation is the sound that ushers in, or seems to usher in, a
Valentine. As the raven himself was hoarse that announced the fatal
entrance of Duncan, so the knock of the postman on this day is light,
airy, confident, and befitting one that bringeth good tidings. It is
less mechanical than on other days; you will say, "That is not the
post, I am sure." Visions of Love, of Cupids, of Hymens!--delightful
eternal common-places, which "having been will always be;" which no
school-boy nor school-man can write away; having your irreversible
throne in the fancy and affections--what are your transports, when the
happy maiden, opening with careful finger, careful not to break the
emblematic seal, bursts upon the sight of some well-designed allegory,
some type, some youthful fancy, not without verses--

Lovers all,
A madrigal,

or some such device, not over abundant in sense--young Love disclaims
it,--and not quite silly--something between wind and water, a chorus
where the sheep might almost join the shepherd, as they did, or as I
apprehend they did, in Arcadia.

All Valentines are not foolish; and I shall not easily forget thine,
my kind friend (if I may have leave to call you so) E. B.--E.B. lived
opposite a young maiden, whom he had often seen, unseen, from his
parlour window in C--e-street. She was all joyousness and innocence,
and just of an age to enjoy receiving a Valentine, and just of a
temper to bear the disappointment of missing one with good humour.