AS SEEN THROUGH WOMAN’S EYES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIV, Issue 21, 27 May 1905, Page 59

AS SEEN THROUGH WOMAN’S EYES.

First Love is Not the Only Love,

(BY

HELEN OLDFIELD.)

There are not a few people who in all truth and sincerity of belief deny the existence of second love, who insist that the heart, like the traditional century plant, blooms but once in a life time; that, as Jerome K. Jerome says: “\Ve never sicken with love twice. A man s heart is like a fire work that once in its lime fleshes heavenward. Meteor like, it blazes for a moment, and lights witli its glory the whole world beneath. Then the night of our sordid commonplace life closes in around it, and the burnt-out ease, falling back to earth, lies useless and uncared for, slowly smouldering into ashes.”

This, too, in face of the fact that comparatively few persons marry their first loves; m direct contradiction of the saying that "more widows marry than single women,” in proportion, that is; that widowers rarely remain single, excepting when they have grown daughters. it would be unjust to say that those who marry a second time do not love the second spouse as well as the first. We all know such marriages, the happiness of which is unquestioned, and which prove abundantly that, for some people at least, it is possible to love, in deed and in truth, more than once. Young people who are in love at the present moment will contend that it is impossible to love more than once. They have never known what it was to love before, they will vow and declare; they have merely had a foolish fancy for some one, which is as different from their present devotion as a flash in the pan is from the glorious light of the sun. ft is always the present love who is beloved with:

“The one love given, Once in a lifetime only, with one soul and one heaven.”

From their own point of view, they are probably right. It would be unkind to the present object of their affections, if they were frankly to admit that the old love was as dear as the new, that this was not the first and only time when love reigned supreme in their hearts and souls. There are so many difl erent kinds of love! some strong as death, others “Frail as the blossoms that blow for a season, and wither to nothingness.” As George Eliot says; "There are many wonderful mixtures in the world, which are all alike called love;” the loves of men and of women are as varying as are those who profess to feel them. And so, alas, and well-a-day, for the fickleness of some men ami of some women! The true story of many love affairs is told in what is accounted as Praed’s best stanza, and as sueh a little worn from overwork:

"Our love was like most other loves, A little glow, a little shiver, A rosebud and a pair of gloves. Alni *Fly not yet,' upon tue river; borne jealousy of some one s n. ir. home uopes of dying broken aeart. d, A miniature, a lock or hair, rue usual vows, and tiieu we parted.

Physiologists tell us that the whole physical man and woman is used up and renewed at regular intervals oi time; all nature changes, and it cannot be reasonably expected that human love, alone or all tilings earthly, should endure forever with naught to sustain it.

the truth is that, as often happens, both schools of philosophy are partly in the right and partly in the wrong, there are two sides to the shield. Io quote one of the homely epigrammatists who abound in the present school of fiction: “There’s men that would marry once a year if their wives would die fast enough, and there’s men that seems to want to live alone.” The saying applies alike both to men and women. It is, as science teaches us is the case with so many things, merely a matter of temperament. As each human foot calls for a different shoe, so each heart has its own measure, anil knoweth its own bitterness, its own joy. It is more than doubtful whether a grand passion ever comes to any one more than once in a lifetime; indeed to many it never comes at all. When iv comes, and departs, “It takes something from our hearts, and it never comes again.” Scientists tell us that great heights are not salubrious dwidling places; he who scales them does so at his peril. The fact applies to the spirit as well as to the flesh. It is a eurious thing, if it be true, as some assert, that when a man first calls in love it is almost invariably with a girl who is much lietter looking than she whom he eventually marries. Supporters of the theory that there is but one love in a life, argue from this that a youth’s first passion is not real love, but a passing fancy for a pleasing exterior; a fancy which fades like a film when there is nothing to fix and develop it. Nevertheless, it may be that the youth was more truly in love the first time than the second, since he was then in love with some one who did or did not reciprocate his affection, whereas in the other ease he was in love with himself and unaware of it. Which is to say that the pretty girl by whom he was first eaptivat.d gave herself but little concern as to his feelings for her, but. his second and more lasting love set her self to work to win his heart, and, so doing, flattened his vanity, giving him a glow of self-complacency which warmed specially. It is much easier to turn

men’s heads than to touch their hearts, and the old axiom that “the shortest way to men’s hearts is down their throats,” might well be paraphrased into "the quickest way to win a man’s love is through his vanity.”

It is highly pronable that a man’s first love is hottest and most passionate, but like a blazing fire it burns out soon est. It is the fashion to ridicule boy and girl love, “calf love,” nevertheless it is often sincere and heartfelt. For the time being, indeed, it is so real, so absorbing, that it changes the whole aspect of the outer as well as the inner world and makes of life “one glad, sweet song.” Contrary to novelists, this early tenderness seldom finds consummation in marriage, yet it mercifully passes away without inflicting any lasting in jury, and leaves behind it only a sweet memory, with no bitterness of regret, as harmless as the fragrant leaves which we lay amongst our household linene. This is as it should be. A youth is sei dom able to marry when his first love comes upon him. Most likely his inamorata laughs at him, or flirts with him. recognizing him as ineligible, and mar ries “Another.” 'Therefore, as is natu ral and reasonable, his infatuation dies away while he puts in some years of hard work and strict attention to busi ness. There is no cure for mental distress like hard work, which exacts the concentration of all one’s faculties, and makes brooding impossible. Then, when he is financially able to marry, he finds

another woman to his liking, and persuades himself that his first love was nothing more than boyish fancy. For the majortiy of mankind the great love of life comes after several prelimi nary passages, none of which was lasting. There are exceptions to this rule, but they are exceptions. The human heart is, fortunately, adaptable, and the memory conveniently short when the affections are to be transferred. In love, more than in most things, it is true that: “There’s nothing either good or bad. but thinking makes it so.”

Woman’s Fight With a Lion

A thrilling story of an encounter with

a lion, in which a woman played a eon spicuous part, comes from the Bulawayo district.

While retiring to rest an English settler named Dickert heard what sound-

ed like a pig grunting. Stepping out side to investigate, he was immediately seized unon bv a lion. His shouts

brought out Mrs. Dickert with a loaded rifle.

With the weapon she struck the beast on the head, and caused it to release its hold of her husband. Dickert then sprang to his feet, snatched the gun, and shot the lion dead.