After these preliminary remarks, it will be expected that I should give a sketch of the tokens and proofs of one's being under the influence of this sentiment. It occasions, on its approach, important changes in the feelings and character, such as no one experiences without being sensible of their occurrence, although, so close is the resemblance between love and the effects of a warm imagination, that one may fancy herself in love, when she really is not. It wakes emotions and sympathies never before awakened, and lying deep in our nature. No writer has described its signs and effects so minutely as Shakspeare. If we may believe him, it is not always marked by deliberation, and entire self-possession: "If thou rememberest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not loved: Or if thou hast not sat, as I do now, Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Thou hast not loved: Or if thou hast not broke from company, Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not loved." Love makes the hours, when its object is absent, long and dreary. It renders even the contemplation of the preferred one more agreeable than the society of others. A prepossession for a particular individual usually makes one jealous of attentions bestowed by him on other persons. I once heard a gentleman remark, that it was this jealousy, which first convinced him that he was in love. You cannot open your lips to speak against him, who has impressed your heart. You will inwardly, although not probably in words, defend him from the attacks of others. To blush and falter under such circumstances would indicate love, much more surely than open professions. Were the question put by yourself "Do I love this person?" the first reply,--that of timidity and doubt,--would be, "no." Still for no consideration could you rest an hour in that conclusion. Unstaid in all motions else, there would be one fixed object, "The constant image of the creature That is beloved."