a flying sunburst, which fills life up like a cup with bubbling and
sparkling liquor.


"My soul, be patient! Thou shalt find
A little matter mend all this!"


And that is the part of youth which we remember, till on looking
back it seems like a time of wandering with like-hearted comrades
down some sweet-scented avenue of golden sun and green shade. Our
memory plays us beautifully false--splendide mendax--till one wishes
sometimes that old and wise men, retelling the story of their life,
could recall for the comfort of youth some part of its languors and
mischances, its bitter jealousies, its intense and poignant sense of
failure.

And then in a moment the door of life opens. One day I was an
irresponsible, pleasure-loving, fantastic youth, and a week later I
was, or it seemed to me that I was, a professional man with all the
cares of a pedagogue upon my back. It filled me at first, I
remember, with a gleeful amazement, to find myself in the desk,
holding forth, instead of on the form listening. It seemed
delicious at first to have the power of correcting and slashing
exercises, and placing boys in order, instead of being corrected
and examined, and competing for a place. It was a solemn game at
the outset. Then came the other side of the picture. One's pupils
were troublesome, they did badly in examinations, they failed
unaccountably; and one had a glimpse too of some of the tragedies
of school life. Almost insensibly I became aware that I had a task