Year: 1873

The departure Of youth manifests it
self as unmistakably in the habitudes of
the mind as in the gray hair and failing
strength. In youth, we live in the tu-
ture. We see visions and dream dreams.
We build castles of enchantment, which
we furnish and people with vivid inn
aginatlOn We picture the fairest bride,
the fastest friends, and the most tiOwery
of pathways. Alas, how does expert
ence disappOint us, and show us the
vanity of human wishes, as we find one
idol after another rudely shattered or
wisely withheld Our thoughts are now
mainly in the past, and we are buster
with memories than with hopes. We
dream not so much of COnquests to be
achieved as of the golden opportunities
now passed beyond recall, of the rich
treasures of time and talents we have
wasted. We think less Of our merry
companions. and the favorable impress
siOns we make than we do of the COtem-
pOraries who are one after another pass
ing away from us: less of our cOnquests
i'll love, now that smiles are sCarCer than
kisses were then. than of some whom
we have slighted in that older time.


Have we ever noticed, in forming one
of an assembly of people in our youth,
how every one seemed mature cOmpar-
ed with ourselves? Now, when we
look around us, how greatly do the
young seem to prepOnderate When
we remember the rose tint of rOmanCes
with which the freshness and vividness
of every new impression tInged our ear
ly days, and find that existence is no
longer a dream, but a reality. and that
there is 50 little to look forward to, is
it any wonder that we cast lingering
look behind The character of our life
is fixed, and our occupations and assO-
Citations promise to be in the future very
much what they now are. Do we no.
tice how much more rapidly each sue
ceeding year seems to pass away? Can
not we remember how. in our child
hood, the term of a year appeared inter
minahle and We thought that we could
compress into that great space almost
any amount of work and play? But as
we get older, how is it that. with all our
indi ". time seems too short for the
work we have in hand We become
so engrosse1, that holy days and hOli-
DAYS are alike invaded and after all is
done, how much is left unfinished, how
many schemes remain untricd at is
the solemn thought connected with mid
die life" says the late eloquent f. w.
Robertson, ''that lifes last business is
begun in earnest: and it is then, mid
way between the cradle and the grave,
that a man begins to marvel that he let
the days of youth go by half employed


. 1t is the pensive autumn feeling, it is
the sensation of half sadness that we eX-
perience when the longest day Of the
year is past, and every day that follows
is shorter, and the light fainter, and the
feebler shadows tell that nature IS has
tening with gigantic footsteps to her
winter grave. So does man look back
upon his youth. When the first gray
hairs become visible, when the unWel-
/ come truth fastens itself upon the mind
that a man is no longer going up hill,
hut down, and that the sun is always
wcstering, we look back on things be
hind. When we were children, we
thought as children. But now there
lies before rs manhood, with its ear
nest work, and then old age. and then
the grave, and then home. There is a
second youth for man, better and holieI
than his first, if we will look on, and
not back. - TiaSley's Nagaziae