It swoops down
upon us when we have neither the strength nor the brains to resent it.
Of course there are some superior persons in this world who never were
young. Mr. Pedagog, I doubt not, was ushered into this world with all
three sets of teeth cut, and not wailing as most infants are, but
discussing the most abstruse philosophical problems. His fairy stories
were told him, if ever, in words of ten syllables; and his father's
first remark to him was doubtless an inquiry as to his opinion on the
subject of Latin and Greek in our colleges. It's all right to be this
kind of a baby if you like that sort of thing. For my part, I rejoice to
think that there was once a day when I thought my father a mean-spirited
assassin, because he wouldn't tie a string to the moon and let me make
it rise and set as suited my sweet will. Babies of Mr. Pedagog's sort
are fortunately like angel's visits, few and far between. In spite of
his stand in the matter, though, I can't help thinking there was a great
deal of truth in a rhyme a friend of mine got off on Youth. It fits the
case. He said:
"'Youth is a state of being we attain
In early years; to some 'tis but a crime--
And, like the mumps, most aged men complain,
It can't be caught, alas! a second time."'
"Your rhymes are interesting, and your reasoning, as usual, is faulty,"
said the School-master. "I passed a very pleasant childhood, though it
was a childhood devoted, as you have insinuated, to serious rather than
to flippant pursuits.
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