From the bar of the Students' Club a throng of young men of his year
loudly hailed him. He joined them; took with a laugh the
commiserations on his failure; wrung the hands of those who had been
successful.

The successful young gentlemen were standing drinks-each man his
round. There was much smoke and much laughter. Amusing experiences
were narrated. You gathered that all who had passed their examination
had done so by sheer luck, by astonishing flukes. Not one had ever
worked. Each had been "ragged" on a subject of which he knew
absolutely nothing. To the brilliancy with which he had gulled or
bluffed his examiner, to the diplomacy with which he had headed him
off the matters of which he knew absolutely less than nothing-to these
alone were his success due.

Such is ever Youth's account of battle with Age. Youth is a devil of a
smart fellow, behind whom Age blunders along in the most ridiculous
fashion. Later this young blood takes his place in the blundering
ranks and then does learn that indeed he was right--Age knows nothing.
For with years we begin to realise our ignorance, and the lesson is
not complete when the grave slams the book. A few plumb the depths of
their ignorance before death: these are able to speak--and these are
the teachers of men. We get here one reason why giants are fewer in
our day: with the growth of man's imaginings and his inventions there
is more vanity to be forced through; the truths of life lie deeper
hid; more phantasms arise to lure us from the quest of realities; the
task of striking truth accumulates.