yellowing, badly-printed pages, I feel again the deep thrill of joy with
which I first unfolded them and read. Again I am a youngster, and life
opens out before me--inmeasurable, no goal too high. This child of my
brain, my work: it shall spread my name throughout the world. It shall
be a household world in lands that I shall never see. Friends whose
voices I shall never hear will speak of me. I shall die, but it shall
live, yield fresh seed, bear fruit I know not of. Generations yet unborn
shall read it and remember me. My thoughts, my words, my spirit: in it I
shall live again; it shall keep my memory green.

The long, long thoughts of boyhood! We elders smile at them. The
little world spins round; the little voices of an hour sink hushed. The
crawling generations come and go. The solar system drops from space. The
eternal mechanism reforms and shapes itself anew. Time, turning, ploughs
another furrow. So, growing sleepy, we murmur with a yawn. Is it that
we see clearer, or that our eyes are growing dim? Let the young men
see their visions, dream their dreams, hug to themselves their hopes of
enduring fame; so shall they serve the world better.

I brushed the tears from my eyes and looked up. Half-a-dozen urchins,
male and female, were gaping at me open-mouthed. They scattered
shouting, whether compliment or insult I know not: probably the latter.
I flung them a handful of coppers, which for the moment silenced them;
and went upon my way. How bright, how fair the bustling streets, golden
in the winter sunshine, thronged with life, with effort! Laughter rang
around me. Sweet music rolled from barrel-organs. The strenuous voices
of the costermongers called invitation to the fruitful earth. Errand
boys passed me whistling shrilly joyous melodies. Perspiring tradesmen
shouted generous offers to the needy. Men and women hurried by with
smiling faces. Sleek cats purred in sheltered nooks, till merry dogs
invited them to sport. The sparrows, feasting in the roadway, chirped
their hymn of praise.

At the Marble Arch I jumped upon a 'bus. I mentioned to the conductor
in mounting that it was a fine day. He replied that he had noticed it
himself. The retort struck me as a brilliant repartee. Our coachman, all
but run into by a hansom cab driven by a surly old fellow of patriarchal
appearance, remarked upon the danger of allowing horses out in charge of
bits of boys. How full the world of wit and humour!

Almost without knowi