ok back upon the road
we have been treading in life, and cast a wistful glance at the dark vista
before us! When first we set out upon our worldly pilgrimage, these are
indeed precious moments, when with buoyant heart and spirit high, believing
all things, trusting all things, our very youth comes back to us, reflected
from every object we meet; and like Narcissus, we are but worshipping our
own image in the water. As we go on in life, the cares, the anxieties, and
the business of the world engross us more and more, and such moments become
fewer and shorter. Many a bright dream has been dissolved, many a fairy
vision replaced, by some dark reality; blighted hopes, false friendships
have gradually worn callous the heart once alive to every gentle feeling,
and time begins to tell upon us,--yet still, as the well-remembered melody
to which we listened with delight in infancy brings to our mature age a
touch of early years, so will the very association of these happy moments
recur to us in our revery, and make us young again in thought. Then it is
that, as we look back upon our worldly career, we become convinced how
truly is the child the father of the man, how frequently are the projects
of our manhood the fruit of some boyish predilection; and that in the
emulative ardor that stirs the schoolboy's heart, we may read the
_prestige_ of that high daring that makes a hero of its possessor.

These moments, too, are scarcely more pleasurable than they are salutary to
us. Disengaged for the time from every worldly anxiety, we pass in review
before our own selves, and in the solitude of our own hearts are we judged.
That still small voice of conscience, unheard and unlistened to amidst the
din and bustle of life, speaks audibly to us now; and while chastened
on one side by regrets, we are sustained on the other by some approving
thought; and with many a sorrow for the past, and many a promise for the
future, we begin to feel "how good it is for us to be here."

The evening wore later; the red sun sank down upon the sea, growing larger
and larger; the long line of mellow gold that sheeted along the distant
horizon grew first of a dark ruddy tinge, then paler and paler, till it
became almost gray; a single star shone faintly in the east, and darkness
soon set in. With night came the wind, for almost imperceptibly the sails
swelled slowly out, a slight rustle at the bow followed, the ship lay
gently over, and we were once more in mo