Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-04-18
RETAIN YOUR YOUTH.
The Kind of Life Which Makes
 Men Happy and Contented.
Blessed Be the Greenhorns," Observes . Lady Writer. and Those Who Road This Essay Will Probably Agree with
 Her-Men and Fossils.

Essay Will Probably Agree with
 Her-Men and Fossils.
 Fl may net be quite so wise as Solomon" remarked man in my hearing the other day, writes ''Amber'' in the Chicago Tribune, 'but any body who expects to get the best of me will get badly leftp' looked at the speaker, at his shrewd eyes, with their ''all ways at once" manner of looking at things; his mouth, pursed and puckered like dried up pepper-pod; his smile. as sharp and wintry as a frost sparkle, and | said in my heart: "Well, sir, would rather | be the biggest greenhorn that ever trod the | sod than be you!'
 When man gets so wise that he has noth- ing left to learn the best place for him is a bookshelf. When he gets so cunning that you can never catch him mapping the best place for him is among the stuffed owls in the National Museum. The world has no need of fossils outside of caves and archaeo- | logical collections. What dried-up channel is to landscape, such, to the world he lives in, Is worldly-wise nature which has be- come invulnerable to sensation and incapable of Q mistake or an enthu- siasm. He has outgrown his chief charm who has outgrown his freshness. He has become Q mere petrifaction, who has attained unto state wherein he is unas- sailable by the blunders to which other men succumb We do not need such people any more than fullmooned August night needs signal lights. Better fall down once in awhile than get to be so ossitied you can't bend out of the perpendicular. Perfec- tion is all right in butter and eggs, but a man, to be good comrade, wants enough of the imperfection of human nature left in him to render him capable of an occasional blunder. I would rather live with the Statue of Liberty on Bedloe's Island than attempt to dwell with a person who has outlived the possibility of ever being taken in," or has scared above the weak ness of once in awhile taking leap without knowing exactly where he is going to land. Why, bless your heart, my dear, the man who always looks before he jumps misses hne tumble in the cloveri Children playing together in the haymow would miss the best elixir of their sport if they measured every distance and computed the safety of every risk. And lifs, good part of it anyhow, | Is nothing moro than the venture of chil- dren romping in the dark. A preternatu- rally wise child and sharp man make poor | comrades in either play or work. What gives to childhood it's first and greatest charmi What moro than it's freshness and capacity | tc enjoy delusion? When the child out | grows it's belief in Santa Claus and fairies | it ceases to have the nature of child, and | the wiser 1t gets and the further from the humbuggeries of youth the more of that | first divine freshness and innocence 1t loses, | until it becomes, like too many of us older ones, a withered stalk with neither dew nor | blossom left upon 1t. When we pray for pure hearts let us add to our pe- tition that, in the grind and turmoil of sor- did living, we. may preserve little of | the "greenness' of life's sprin gtime in our nature. Keep us. good Lord, from too much conceit in our own cunning. Help us now and then to take the attitude of little children who have something to learn. Make singing birds of us rather than sly old foxes; shrubs of living verdure rather than dusty specimens mucilaged inside of herbarium. Half the people one meets arc only specimens. They are types, samples in stock, any thing but individuals. They have been brought up to be conformists, and they are perfectly content with their labelling in the company of the Great Alike. Usage plucks them early, as botanist picks rose to classify 1t rather than to en- joy it's beauty, and conformity is the musty old herbarium wherein they are pasted and lettered for all time. Give me the weed blowing in the meadow, wet by showers and shaken by storms, trodden under foot by happy children and browsed by con- tented herds, rather than the finest speci- men of flora that any scientist has in his withered and dried collection. A green leaf With sap 1n It Is better Tor retreShment than forest of dead cedars.
 Bless God, then, all you who retain enough
 May-time in your hearts to keep you "green" late into the season. Blessed be the young man or maiden, the elderly man or matron, who, in this age of precocity | and progress, policy and nerve, retains enough of the primal innocence to blush and
 be abashed on suitable occasion, and are not so wise in their own conceit but what they may sometimes get the worst of bar gain. The presence of such person in this shrewd and practical old world is as welcome as the sight of 8 buttercup in the alkali desert.
 Have you caught the promise in the air of latea Do you realize that a host of bright spirits are on the way to take possession of the land! The windfower in it's dowAy } mantle, f1ecked with rose, the daffodil with
 its airy crown, the lilac with it's purple
 plume and its hosts of violets to fill the sunny spaces of the woods, all waiting at the gates for the touch of springs crystal key to fling wlde the way and let them
 through. How constant the seasons are.
 April is never behind with her willows and catlzins, May never forgets her contracts with the apple orchards, and June.is never late with her roses. The robin always ar 7 rives promptly, although he comes ln a snow storm, and the bluebird tarries not in uncertainty, but flashes his azure wing on time along the misty hedgerows. If human
 friends were half as constant to the tryst of
 love as birds and blossoms are to their sea-
 son, this world would never need be ex-
 changed for Heaven.
 An Arithmetical Ingenuity.
 Amonp tha best of the many arithmetical