That Beauty's form, so dear of old,
No more has power to charm it;
Or that the ungenerous world can chill
One glow of fond emotion,
For those who made it dearer still
And shared my wild devotion."
Jesse James, the bold raider and dashing outlaw, in love? Preposterous! And yet why not? Those who have studied the ways of human nature with most attention, find nothing singular in the fact that Jesse might prove an ardent lover, or wonderful in the assumption that he might be beloved in turn. Love is the grand passion after all, and few persons have lived who did not at some time in the course of their lives feel the deep chords of their hearts touched, and realize the tender spell that enchained them. Why should not Jesse James, the man of splendid physique, the very embodiment of strong passions, yield to the powerful influence which so universally sways the human heart? Rather, we might ask, why should Jesse James not "fall in love," as the expression goes? It was perfectly natural that he should at some time, somewhere, find some one endowed with the capability of awakening in him the tender passion. Was he not human? Were his emotions and constitution so different from the rest of the children of time? What if he was outlawed? Had he not eyes to see and ears to hear? Had all tender feelings found a grave in his heart?
It is true that the nature of his employment and the circumstances which surrounded him, rendered his life an isolated one to a certain extent. He was not thrown into the great whirlpool which the world calls society, and this very isolation of his position would very naturally prompt him to seek the companionship of one who could hold a nearer and dearer place in his heart than even his brother. He might yet retrieve some of the disasters of the past, and wipe out some of the stains which blurred his character, if led by the sweet, gentle influence of a true woman. Who can ever know what hopes animated him; what bright dreams of a better life cheered him, when he thought of her who would not—perhaps could not join in the general execration of his name? It may be that at such times a vision rose before him, of a quiet home with peace after the strife, where love dwelt, and where the bitter curses of the past might never come; it may be that he looked forward to the rest which would come to his tempest-riven breast, when the storm had passed and the serene sun lighted his pathway through a quiet land. And at such times it was but natural that he should seek the presence of the beloved one, and plead with her—
"Oh linger yet a moment!