idle thoughts of an idle fellow-第24部分

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　then；　and　girls　were　very　different。　　Also　winters　were　something　like　winters；　and　summers　not　at　all　the　wretched…things　we　get　put　off　with　nowadays。　　As　for　the　wonderful　deeds　people　did　in　those　times　and　the　extraordinary　events　that　happened；　it　takes　three　strong　men　to　believe　half　of　them。

I　like　to　hear　one　of　the　old　boys　telling　all　about　it　to　a　party　of　youngsters　who　he　knows　cannot　contradict　him。　　It　is　odd　if；　after　awhile；　he　doesn't　swear　that　the　moon　shone　every　night　when　he　was　a　boy；　and　that　tossing　mad　bulls　in　a　blanket　was　the　favorite　sport　at　his　school。

It　always　has　been　and　always　will　be　the　same。　　The　old　folk　of　our　grandfathers'　young　days　sang　a　song　bearing　exactly　the　same　burden；　and　the　young　folk　of　to…day　will　drone　out　precisely　similar　nonsense　for　the　aggravation　of　the　next　generation。　　〃Oh；　give　me　back　the　good　old　days　of　fifty　years　ago；〃　has　been　the　cry　ever　since　Adam's　fifty…first　birthday。　　Take　up　the　literature　of　1835；　and　you　will　find　the　poets　and　novelists　asking　for　the　same　impossible　gift　as　did　the　German　Minnesingers　long　before　them　and　the　old　Norse　Saga　writers　long　before　that。　　And　for　the　same　thing　sighed　the　early　prophets　and　the　philosophers　of　ancient　Greece。　　From　all　accounts；　the　world　has　been　getting　worse　and　worse　ever　since　it　was　created。　All　I　can　say　is　that　it　must　have　been　a　remarkably　delightful　place　when　it　was　first　opened　to　the　public；　for　it　is　very　pleasant　even　now　if　you　only　keep　as　much　as　possible　in　the　sunshine　and　take　the　rain　good…temperedly。

Yet　there　is　no　gainsaying　but　that　it　must　have　been　somewhat　sweeter　in　that　dewy　morning　of　creation；　when　it　was　young　and　fresh；　when　the　feet　of　the　tramping　millions　had　not　trodden　its　grass　to　dust；　nor　the　din　of　the　myriad　cities　chased　the　silence　forever　away。　Life　must　have　been　noble　and　solemn　to　those　free…footed；　loose…robed　fathers　of　the　human　race；　walking　hand　in　hand　with　God　under　the　great　sky。　　They　lived　in　sunkissed　tents　amid　the　lowing　herds。　　They　took　their　simple　wants　from　the　loving　hand　of　Nature。　　They　toiled　and　talked　and　thought；　and　the　great　earth　rolled　around　in　stillness；　not　yet　laden　with　trouble　and　wrong。

Those　days　are　past　now。　　The　quiet　childhood　of　Humanity；　spent　in　the　far…off　forest　glades　and　by　the　murmuring　rivers；　is　gone　forever；　and　human　life　is　deepening　down　to　manhood　amid　tumult；　doubt；　and　hope。　　Its　age　of　restful　peace　is　past。　　It　has　its　work　to　finish　and　must　hasten　on。　　What　that　work　may　bewhat　this　world's　share　is　in　the　great　designwe　know　not；　though　our　unconscious　hands　are　helping　to　accomplish　it。　　Like　the　tiny　coral　insect　working　deep　under　the　dark　waters；　we　strive　and　struggle　each　for　our　own　little　ends；　nor　dream　of　the　vast　fabric　we　are　building　up　for　God。

Let　us　have　done　with　vain　regrets　and　longings　for　the　days　that　never　will　be　ours　again。　　Our　work　lies　in　front；　not　behind　us；　and　〃Forward！〃　is　our　motto。　　Let　us　not　sit　with　folded　hands；　gazing　upon　the　past　as　if　it　were　the　building；　it　is　but　the　foundation。　Let　us　not　waste　heart　and　life　thinking　of　what　might　have　been　and　forgetting　the　may　be　that　lies　before　us。　　Opportunities　flit　by　while　we　sit　regretting　the　chances　we　have　lost；　and　the　happiness　that　comes　to　us　we　heed　not；　because　of　the　happiness　that　is　gone。

Years　ago；　when　I　used　to　wander　of　an　evening　from　the　fireside　to　the　pleasant　land　of　fairy…tales；　I　met　a　doughty　knight　and　true。　Many　dangers　had　he　overcome；　in　many　lands　had　been；　and　all　men　knew　him　for　a　brave　and　well…tried　knight；　and　one　that　knew　not　fear；　except；　maybe；　upon　such　seasons　when　even　a　brave　man　might　feel　afraid　and　yet　not　be　ashamed。　　Now；　as　this　knight　one　day　was　pricking　wearily　along　a　toilsome　road；　his　heart　misgave　him　and　was　sore　within　him　because　of　the　trouble　of　the　way。　　Rocks；　dark　and　of　a　monstrous　size；　hung　high　above　his　head；　and　like　enough　it　seemed　unto　the　knight　that　they　should　fall　and　he　lie　low　beneath　them。　Chasms　there　were　on　either　side；　and　darksome　caves　wherein　fierce　robbers　lived；　and　dragons；　very　terrible；　whose　jaws　dripped　blood。　And　upon　the　road　there　hung　a　darkness　as　of　night。　　So　it　came　over　that　good　knight　that　he　would　no　more　press　forward；　but　seek　another　road；　less　grievously　beset　with　difficulty　unto　his　gentle　steed。　But　when　in　haste　he　turned　and　looked　behind；　much　marveled　our　brave　knight；　for　lo！　of　all　the　way　that　he　had　ridden　there　was　naught　for　eye　to　see；　but　at　his　horse's　heels　there　yawned　a　mighty　gulf；　whereof　no　man　might　ever　spy　the　bottom；　so　deep　was　that　same　gulf。　Then　when　Sir　Ghelent　saw　that　of　going　back　there　was　none；　he　prayed　to　good　Saint　Cuthbert；　and　setting　spurs　into　his　steed　rode　forward　bravely　and　most　joyously。　　And　naught　harmed　him。

There　is　no　returning　on　the　road　of　life。　　The　frail　bridge　of　time　on　which　we　tread　sinks　back　into　eternity　at　every　step　we　take。　　The　past　is　gone　from　us　forever。　　It　is　gathered　in　and　garnered。　　It　belongs　to　us　no　more。　　No　single　word　can　ever　be　unspoken；　no　single　step　retraced。　　Therefore　it　beseems　us　as　true　knights　to　prick　on　bravely；　not　idly　weep　because　we　cannot　now　recall。

A　new　life　begins　for　us　with　every　second。　　Let　us　go　forward　joyously　to　meet　it。　　We　must　press　on　whether　we　will　or　no；　and　we　shall　walk　better　with　our　eyes　before　us　than　with　them　ever　cast　behind。

A　friend　came　to　me　the　other　day　and　urged　me　very　eloquently　to　learn　some　wonderful　system　by　which　you　never　forgot　anything。　　I　don't　know　why　he　was　so　eager　on　the　subject；　unless　it　be　that　I　occasionally　borrow　an　umbrella　and　have　a　knack　of　coming　out；　in　the　middle　of　a　game　of　whist；　with　a　mild　〃Lor！　I've　been　thinking　all　along　that　clubs　were　trumps。〃　　I　declined　the　suggestion；　however；　in　spite　of　the　advantages　he　so　attractively　set　forth。　　I　have　no　wish　to　remember　everything。　　There　are　many　things　in　most　men's　lives　that　had　better　be　forgotten。　　There　is　that　time；　many　years　ago；　when　we　did　not　act　quite　as　honorably；　quite　as　uprightly；　as　we　perhaps　should　have　donethat　unfortunate　deviation　from　the　path　of　strict　probity　we　once　committed；　and　in　which；　more　unfortunate　still；　we　were　found　outthat　act　of　folly；　of　meanness；　of　wrong。　Ah；　well！　we　paid　the　penalty；　suffered　the　maddening　hours　of　vain　remorse；　the　hot　agony　of　shame；　the　scorn；　perhaps；　of　those　we　loved。　　Let　us　forget。　　Oh；　Father　Time；　lift　with　your　kindly　hands　those　bitter　memories　from　off　our　overburdened　hearts；　for　griefs　are　ever　coming　to　us　with　the　coming　hours；　and　our　little　strength　is　only　as　the　day。

Not　that　the　past　should　be　buried。　　The　music　of　life　would　be　mute　if　the　chords　of　memory　were　snapped　asunder。　　It　is　but　the　poisonous　weeds；　not　the　flowers；　that　we　should　root　out　from　the　garden　of　Mnemosyne。　　Do　you　remember　Dickens'　〃Haunted　Man〃how　he　prayed　for　forgetfulness；　and　how；　when　his　prayer　was　answered；　he　prayed　for　memory　once　more？　　We　do　not　want　all　the　ghosts　laid。　　It　is　only　the　haggard；　cruel…eyed　specters　that　we　flee　from。　　Let　the　gentle；　kindly　phantoms　haunt　us　as　they　will；　we　are　not　afraid　of　them。

Ah　me！　the　world　grows　very　full　of　ghosts　as　we　grow　older。　　We　need　not　seek　in　dismal　church…yards　nor　sleep　in　moated　granges　to　see　the　shadowy　faces　and　hear　the　rustling　of　their　garments　in　the　night。　Every　house；　every　room；　every　creaking　chair　has　its　own　particular　ghost。　　They　haunt　the　empty　chambers　of　our　lives；　they　throng　around　us　like　dead　leaves　whirled　in　the　autumn　wind。　　Some　are　living；　some　are　dead。　　We　know　not。　　We　clasped　their　hands　once；　loved　them；　quarreled　with　them；　laughed　with　them；　told　them　our　thoughts　and　hopes　and　aims；　as　they　told　us　theirs；　till　it　seemed　our　very　hearts　had　joined　in　a　grip　that　would　defy　the　puny　power　of　Death。　　They　are　gone　now；　lost　to　us　forever。　　Their　eyes　will　never　look　into　ours　again　and　their　voices　we　shall　never　hear。　　Only　their　ghosts　come　to　us　and　talk　with　us。　　We　see　them；　dim　and　shadowy；　through　our　tears。　　We　stretch　our　yearning　hands　to　them；　but　they　are　air。

Ghosts！　　They　are　with　us　night　and　day。　　They　walk　beside　us　in　the　busy　street　under　the　glare　of　the　sun。　　They　sit　by　us　in　the　twilight　at　home。　　We　see　their　little　faces　looking　from　the　windows　of　the　old　school…house。　　We　meet　them　in　the　woods　and　lanes　where　we　shouted　and　played　as　boys。　　Hark！　cannot　you　hear　their　low　laughter　from　behind　the　blackberry…bushes　and　their　distant　whoops　along　the　grassy　glades？　　Down　here；　through　the　quiet　fields　and　by　the　wood；　where　the　evening　shadows　are　lurking；　winds　the　path　where　we　used　to　watch　for　her　at　sunset。　　Look；　she　is　there　now；　in　the　dainty　white　frock　we　knew　so　well；　with　the　big　bonnet　dangling　from　her　little　hands　and　the　sunny　brown　hair　all　tangled。　　Five　thousand　miles　away！　Dead　for　all　we　know！　　What　of　that？　　She　is　beside　us　now；　and　we　can　look　into　her　laughing　eyes　and　hear　her　voice。　　She　will　vanish　at　the　stile　by　the　wood　and　we　shall　be　alone；　and　the　shadows　will　creep　out　across　the　fields　and　the　night　wind　will　sweep　past　moanin