from his eyelids. At such times, I have, I confess, indulged in wild
speculations, on their possible influence on our wayward destinies. I
was then a youth, and should not now, I much fear me, pursue with such
unchecked ardour, the dreams of romance in which I could then
unrestrainedly revel. Perhaps I should not think it wise to do so, even
had not sober reality stolen from imagination her brightest pinion."

"I would fain hope, Sir Henry," replied Julia, "that all your mind's
elasticity is not thus flown. Why blame such fanciful theories? I cannot
think them wrong, and I have often passed happy hours in forming them."

"Simply because they remove us too much from our natural sphere of
usefulness. They may impart us pleasure; but I question whether, by
dulling our mundane delights, they do not steal pleasure quite
equivalent. Besides, they cannot assist us in conferring happiness on
others, or in gleaning improvement for ourselves. I am not quite
certain, enviable as appears the distinction, whether the _too_
feelingly appreciating even nature's beauties, does not bear with it its
own retribution."

"Ah! do not say so! I cannot think that it _should_ be so with minds
properly regulated. I cannot think that _such_ can ever gaze on the
wonders revealed us, without these imparting their lesson of gratitude
and adoration. If, full of hope, our eye turns to some glorious planet,
and we fondly deem that _there_, may our dreams of happiness _here,_ be
perpetuated; surely in such poetical fancy, there is little to condemn,
and much that may wean us from folly's idle cravings.

"If in melancholy's hour, we mourn for one who hath been dear, and sorrow
for the perishable nature of all that may here claim our earthly