is the especial feminine element which man desires as a helper, and
which is suited to him, and which compels him to exclaim, "O, my God,
give it to me _for mine_!"

It is said, "A woman will sometimes idealize a very inferior man,
until her love for him exalts him into something better than he
originally was, and her into little short of an angel; but a man
almost invariably drops to the level of the woman he is in love with.
He cannot raise her; but she can almost unlimitedly deteriorate him."
This was true of Adam. Eve, sinning, brought him to her level. Why
this should be, Heaven knows; but so it constantly is. We have but
to look around us, with ordinary observation, in order to see that a
man's destiny, more than even a woman's, depends far less upon the
good or ill fortune of his wooing than upon the sort of woman with
whom he falls in love.

Before a man loves, he is under obligations to himself, to his future,
and to the world, to ask himself, Is this woman suited to me? Will she
help me to fulfil my mission? Does she supply my want? Can I recognize
her as God's gift to me? If Yes, then he is right in loving; for

"He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch,
And win or lose it all."

A woman, writing of woman, has truly said, "There are but two ways
open to any woman. If she loves a man, and he does not love her, to
give him up may be a horrible pang and loss; but it cannot be termed
a sacrifice: she resigns what she never had. But if he does love her,