In approaching the topic named at the head of this chapter, I am by no means insensible of its difficulties and its delicacy. But no one can contemplate its bearings on the happiness of woman, without feeling that a work, treating of her duties and prospects, in which this subject is studiously avoided, must be regarded as essentially defective. It is the remark, I think, of Madam de Stael, that "love, which is but an episode in the life of man, is the whole history of woman." Without subscribing to this opinion in full, we must still contend that the destiny of her affections is to her a theme of vital interest. She cannot but reflect much upon it; and since her views may affect so deeply her ultimate decision in reference to a matrimonial connection, is he a true friend who fails to give her all the light, and counsel, and guidance in his power, on this point? It is well known that not a few among the insane of this sex have been made so by their erroneous ideas relative to the exercise of the affections. I may be pardoned for adverting, in this place, to some of the many and various views entertained in regard to the sentiment of love. One considers it a Mystery, something with which the understanding has no concern, and which is never to be reasoned upon, although we may exercise that prerogative on all other subjects. Hence, according to the Roman mythology, Amor, the God of love, is represented as blind-folded. His arrows inflict wounds, it is said, of which the sight can take no cognizance. The language of the poet records the bitter experience of woman, often consequent on this delusive impression: "Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so _blindly_, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted." The opinion under consideration is egregiously erroneous. Woe to her who abandons the helm of judgment, in forming that connection, which is to decide her whole fortune for life. Ill-fated must she be, who concludes that the head and heart must be divorced, before she can experience that sentiment, which binds human souls in the sacred tie of marriage. Another believes love to be an Illusion. She thinks it a subject fit only for the fevered imagination of the poet, or for tales of fiction and romance. With the realities of life it has no concern. In this plain, matter-of-fact, working-day world, there is no room, she thinks, for this creature of the brain. Therefore does she determine to fortify herself against its approaches. Others may pursue the phantom, if they will, but she is resolved to be never so cheated, as to "fall in love" with a man.