does each put off his frail bark from the port, spread the sail, and strain his oar, to attain the multitudinous streams of the sea of life.  How few in youth’s prime, moor their vessels on the “golden sands,” and collect the painted shells that strew them.  But all at close of day, with riven planks and rent canvas make for shore, and are either wrecked ere they reach it, or find some wave-beaten haven, some desart strand, whereon to cast themselves and die unmourned.

A truce to philosophy!—­Life is before me, and I rush into possession.  Hope, glory, love, and blameless ambition are my guides, and my soul knows no dread.  What has been, though sweet, is gone; the present is good only because it is about to change, and the to come is all my own.  Do I fear, that my heart palpitates? high aspirations cause the flow of my blood; my eyes seem to penetrate the cloudy midnight of time, and to discern within the depths of its darkness, the fruition of all my soul desires.

Now pause!—­During my journey I might dream, and with buoyant wings reach the summit of life’s high edifice.  Now that I am arrived at its base, my pinions are furled, the mighty stairs are before me, and step by step I must ascend the wondrous fane—­

  Speak!—­What door is opened?

Behold me in a new capacity.  A diplomatist:  one among the pleasure-seeking society of a gay city; a youth of promise; favourite of the Ambassador.  All was strange and admirable to the shepherd of Cumberland.  With breathless amaze I entered on the gay scene, whose actors were

 —­the lilies glorious as Solomon,
  Who toil not, neither do they spin.

Soon, too soon, I entered the giddy whirl; forgetting my studious hours, and the companionship of Adrian.  Passionate desire of sympathy, and ardent pursuit for a wished-for object still characterized me.  The sight of beauty entranced me, and attractive manners in man or woman won my entire confidence.  I called it rapture, when a smile made my heart beat; and I felt the life’s blood tingle in my frame, when I approached the idol which for awhile I worshipped.  The mere flow of animal spirits was Paradise, and at night’s close I only desired a renewal of the intoxicating delusion.  The dazzling light of ornamented rooms; lovely forms arrayed in splendid dresses; the motions of a dance, the voluptuous tones of exquisite music, cradled my senses in one delightful dream.

And is not this in its kind happiness?  I appeal to moralists and sages.  I ask if in the calm of their measured reveries, if in the deep meditations which fill their hours, they feel the extasy of a youthful tyro in the school of pleasure?  Can the calm beams of their heaven-seeking eyes equal the flashes of mingling passion which blind his, or does the influence of cold philosophy steep their soul in a joy equal to his, engaged

  In this dear work of youthful revelry.