nclosed his
own curly head in it, and then knelt down suddenly on the altar-step;
after which he replaced the helmet again on its nail. "What put it
into your head to do that?" I said. "Oh," he said lightly, "I thought
of the old man who wore it; and they used to kneel before the altar in
their armour when they were made knights, didn't they? I wanted just
to feel what it was like!"

Life was too strong for that boy, and he was worsted! He won little
credit in the fight. But it had been a pretty fancy of his, and
perhaps something more than a fancy. I have often thought of the
little slender figure, so strangely helmeted, kneeling in the summer
sunlight, with Heaven knows what thoughts of what life was to be; it
seems to me a sorrowful enough symbol of boyhood--so eager to share in
the fray, so unfit to bear the dinted helm.

And yet I do not wish to be sorrowful, and it would be untrue to life
to yield oneself to foolish pity. My own little company is broken up
long ago; I wonder if they remember the old days and the old stories.
They are good citizens most of them, standing firmly and sturdily,
finding out the meaning of life in their own way and contributing
their part to the business of the world. But some of them have fallen
by the way, and those not the faultiest or coarsest, but some of fine
instinct and graceful charm, who evoked one's best hopes and most
affectionate concern.

If one believed that life were all, that there was no experience
beyond the dark grave and the mouldering clay, it would be a miserable
task enough to creep cautiously through life, just holding on to its
tangible advantages and cautiously enjoying its delights. But I do
most utterly believe that there is a truth beyond that satisfies our
sharpest cravings and our wildest dreams, and that if we have loved
what is high and good, even for a halting minute, it will come to
bless us consciously and abundantly before we have done with
experience. Many of our dreams are heavy-hearted enough; we are
hampered by the old faults, and by the body that not only cannot
answer the demands of the spirit, but bars the way with its own urgent
claims and desires. But whatever hope we can frame or conceive of
peace and truth and nobleness and light shall be wholly and purely
fulfilled; and even if we are separated by a season, as we must be
separated, from those whom we love and journey with, there is a union
ahead of us when we shall remember gratefull