She thus reached Proserpine’s throne, and obtained the casket, but when she had again reached the earth, she reflected that if Venus’s beauty were impaired by anxiety, her own must have suffered far more; and the prohibition having of course been only intended to stimulate her curiosity, she opened the casket, out of which came the baneful fumes of Death!  Just, however, as she fell down overpowered, her husband, who had been shut up by Venus, came to the rescue, and finding himself unable to restore her, cried aloud to Jupiter, who heard his prayer, reanimated Psyche, and gave her a place among the gods.

CHAPTERS.

       I. A syllabub party. 
      II.  The house of Delavie. 
     III.  Among the cowslips. 
      IV.  My lady’s missive. 
       V. The summons.
      VI.  Disappointed love. 
     VII.  All alone. 
    VIII.  The enchanted castle. 
      IX.  The triad. 
       X. The dark chamber. 
      XI.  A voice from the grave. 
     XII.  The shafts of Phoebe. 
    XIII.  The flutter of his wings. 
     XIV.  The canon of Windsor. 
      XV.  The queen of beauty. 
     XVI.  AUGURIES. 
    XVII.  The victim demanded.
   XVIII.  The proposal. 
     XIX.  Wooing in the dark. 
      XX.  The muffled bridegroom. 
     XXI.  The sister’s meeting
    XXII.  A fatal spark. 
   XXIII.  Wrath and desolation. 
    XXIV.  The wanderer. 
     XXV.  Vanished.
    XXVI.  The traces. 
   XXVII.  Cytherea’s bower. 
  XXVIII.  The rout. 
    XXIX.  A black BLONDEL. 
     XXX.  The first task. 
    XXXI.  The second task. 
   XXXII.  Lions. 
  XXXIII.  The cosmetic. 
   XXXIV.  Down the river. 
    XXXV.  The return. 
   XXXVI.  Waking. 
  XXXVII.  Making the best of it.

LOVE AND LIFE.

CHAPTER I. A SYLLABUB PARTY.

    Oft had I shadowed such a group
      Of beauties that were born
    In teacup times of hood and hoop,
      And when the patch was worn;
    And legs and arms with love-knots gay. 
      About me leaped and laughed
    The modish Cupid of the day,
      And shrilled his tinselled shaft.—­Tennyson.

If times differ, human nature and national character vary but little; and thus, in looking back on former times, we are by turns startled by what is curiously like, and curiously unlike, our own sayings and doings.