Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1881-04-01
II I We're q Boy Again.
PLAIN TALK WITH MY EEPHsws.

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PLAIN TALK WITH MY EEPHRws.
lBy James r. Felis
AsI look back to my school days | can
remember SO many failures through not
understanding how to avoid them, that l
feel compelled to have this PLAN talk III,
round with you. l take 1t for granted
that | am writing for those sensible iaas
who mean to have their minds Keep Tue
best company possible, and never snier
them to go sneaking about Tor nferiofliy
in anything. To be young Is great au-
vantage, and now il the golden time 10
store away treasures Tor the iuture,
never knew youth yet VII" "oti.i pe
willing to saw. II don't mean to get un-
derstanding / don't wish to Know maeh
Of anything; l have no desire to compass
to-day more and better things tlan
knew yesterday; prefer, when grow
up, to be an ignorant man, mere passive
wheel in the great machine of the uni
verse" The richest rascal that ever
lived never started with the idea III boy
hood that he would repudiate morals,
make money. and avoid ideas!
One of the most common of all laments
is this one, and have heard 1t hundreds
of times from grayheaded men IN every
walk of life, "Oh, that my lost youth
could come back to me, and ! could have
again the chance for improvement L once
had :" What lucky fellows you are, to
he sure, with the privilege of being about
twelve or fifteen years old still keeping
within your own coutrol those priceless
opportunities when the portals of knowl-
edge are standing wide open and inviting
YOU in. and not one adverse spirit daring
to hold you back. Don't wish l could
be a boy again ! We, who are swiftly
stepping westward toward the setting sun,
cannot help crying out to you, who are
still i'll the Eastern quarter OF lie, what
Horace Mann used to sound IN our ears
when We were as young as you are,
''Orient yourselves
What We SOW in youth We reap in age
The seeds of the thistle always produce
thistle. The possibilities that wait upon
YOU who are yet in the spring-time of
existence, who are yet holding III yonr
own two hands the precious gift of time.
cannot be estimated Do not forget that
a useless life is an early death
1 thank Mr.. Longfellow for having
written the following lines. When he
read them to me thanked him heartily, |
and now / do it again. as l quote them
for YOU to commit to memory from these
pages
How beautiful Is youth how bright 1t CLEANS
Wlthits Illusions, aspirations dreams
Book OF beginnings. story without end,
Each maid heroine, and each man Iiirhd y
Aladdln'5 lamp, and Fortunatus purse.
That holds the treasure of the universe
All possibilities are in It's hands,
No danger daunts II. and no foe withstands:
In Its sublime audacity OF faith,
he thou removed! II 10 the mountain saith
And with ambitious feet, secure and proud.
Ascends the ladder leaning on the cloudl'
wonder if any Of you. my young
friends, ever happened to read OF a poor,
unhappy old man who stood one New
Year $ night at the window of his dwell
ing and thought over all the errors OF his
youth, what he had neglected to do of
good, and what he had committed of evil
how his bosom was filled with remorse,
how his desolate soul was wrung as he re-
tectcd on the past fOllies of long life.
The DAYS when he was strong and active
wandered about him like ghosts. 1t was
too late to retrieve his lost youth. The
grave was waiting for him, and with un
speakable grief he be-thought him of the
time spent III idleness, of the hard road
he had chosen which had led him into
ruinous follies and years of slothfulness.
Then he recalled the names of his early
companions who had selected the right
hand path, and were now happy and con-
tent in their declining days, having lived
the lives of virtuOus, studious men, dong |
the best they were able in the world. |
Then he cried to his dead father, who had
warned him when he was lad to follow |
the good and shun the evil pathways OF
existence, 80 father, give me back my |
lost youth, that | may live different life |
from the one have SO long pursued
Bat it was too late now to make moan. |
His father and his youth had gone to |
gether. There the poor bewildered crea-
ture stands, blinded with tears. but still
beseeching Heaven to give him back his
youth once more Few spectacles are
more terrible to contemplate than the |
broken-down figure Of that weeping old |
man, lamenting that he cannot be young |
again, for then he would lead life so diff |
ferent from the one he had lived.
But what thrill of pleasure followsthe
sad picture We have been contemplating |
when We are told it WAS only IL fearful
dream that certain young man was pass |
ing through, a vision only Of possible
degradation, and that Heaven had taken
this method of counseling the youth to
turn aside from the allurements that
might beset his path, and thus be spared
the undying remorse that would surely
take possession OF him when he grew to
he a man, if he gave way to self-indul-
gence and those wandering idle ways
that lead TO error, and oftentimes to vice
and crime. The misery of life to be
avoided was thus pretigured, and the