to Idris and myself, to find that the frankness which Alfred’s open brow indicated, the intelligence of his eyes, the tempered sensibility of his tones, were not delusions, but indications of talents and virtues, which would “grow with his growth, and strengthen with his strength.”  At this period, the termination of an animal’s love for its offspring,—­the true affection of the human parent commences.  We no longer look on this dearest part of ourselves, as a tender plant which we must cherish, or a plaything for an idle hour.  We build now on his intellectual faculties, we establish our hopes on his moral propensities.  His weakness still imparts anxiety to this feeling, his ignorance prevents entire intimacy; but we begin to respect the future man, and to endeavour to secure his esteem, even as if he were our equal.  What can a parent have more at heart than the good opinion of his child?  In all our transactions with him our honour must be inviolate, the integrity of our relations untainted:  fate and circumstance may, when he arrives at maturity, separate us for ever—­but, as his aegis in danger, his consolation in hardship, let the ardent youth for ever bear with him through the rough path of life, love and honour for his parents.

We had lived so long in the vicinity of Eton, that its population of young folks was well known to us.  Many of them had been Alfred’s playmates, before they became his school-fellows.  We now watched this youthful congregation with redoubled interest.  We marked the difference of character among the boys, and endeavoured to read the future man in the stripling.  There is nothing more lovely, to which the heart more yearns than a free-spirited boy, gentle, brave, and generous.  Several of the Etonians had these characteristics; all were distinguished by a sense of honour, and spirit of enterprize; in some, as they verged towards manhood, this degenerated into presumption; but the younger ones, lads a little older than our own, were conspicuous for their gallant and sweet dispositions.

Here were the future governors of England; the men, who, when our ardour was cold, and our projects completed or destroyed for ever, when, our drama acted, we doffed the garb of the hour, and assumed the uniform of age, or of more equalizing death; here were the beings who were to carry on the vast machine of society; here were the lovers, husbands, fathers; here the landlord, the politician, the soldier; some fancied that they were even now ready to appear on the stage, eager to make one among the dramatis personae of active life.  It was not long since I was like one of these beardless aspirants; when my boy shall have obtained the place I now hold, I shall have tottered into a grey-headed, wrinkled old man.  Strange system! riddle of the Sphynx, most awe-striking! that thus man remains, while we the individuals pass away.  Such is, to borrow the words of an eloquent and philosophic writer, “the mode of existence decreed to a permanent body composed of transitory parts; wherein, by the disposition of a stupendous wisdom, moulding together the great mysterious incorporation of the human race, the whole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but, in a condition of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied tenour of perpetual decay, fall, renovation, and progression."[2]