the borders of the grave, it
assumes all the speed and impetuosity of a river about to precipitate
itself into an abyss; this is doubtless the case, provided we can carry
to the grave those pleasant thoughts and delusions which alone render
life agreeable, and to which even to the very last we would gladly cling;
but what becomes of the swiftness of time, when the mind sees the vanity
of human pursuits? which is sure to be the case when its fondest, dearest
hopes have been blighted at the very moment when the harvest was deemed
secure. What becomes from that moment, I repeat, of the shortness of
time? I put not the question to those who have never known that trial,
they are satisfied with themselves and all around them, with what they
have done, and yet hope to do; some carry their delusions with them to
the borders of the grave, ay, to the very moment when they fall into it;
a beautiful golden cloud surrounds them to the last, and such talk of the
shortness of time: through the medium of that cloud the world has ever
been a pleasant world to them; their only regret is that they are so soon
to quit it; but oh, ye dear deluded hearts, it is not every one who is so
fortunate!

To the generality of mankind there is no period like youth. The
generality are far from fortunate; but the period of youth, even to the
least so, offers moments of considerable happiness, for they are not only
disposed, but able to enjoy most things within their reach. With what
trifles at that period are we content; the things from which in
after-life we should turn away in disdain please us then, for we are in
the midst of a golden cloud, and everything seems decked with a golden
hue. Never during any portion of my life did time flow on more speedily
than during the two or three years immediately succeeding the period to
which we arrived in the preceding chapter: since then it has flagged
often enough; sometimes it has seemed to stand entirely still; and the
reader may easily judge how it fares at the present, from the
circumstance of my taking pen in hand, and endeavouring to write down the
passages of my life--a last resource with most people. But at the period
to which I allude I was just, as I may say, entering upon life; I had
adopted a profession, and--to keep up my character, simultaneously with
that profession--the study of a new language--I speedily became a
proficient in the one, but ever remained a novice in the other: a novice
in