as these childish tears, in the outlook on life of this maturer child.
With the world before him to enjoy, to help, or to conquer, he finds himself paralyzed with doubts whether he can fill his place.
Life alone could test him; but that test he shrinks from applying, and takes refuge in death.
The interest of the world lies in the fortunes of the young.
The great works of humanity are still to be accomplished; the great book written; the great picture painted; the great city or nation governed.
It is not the nineteenth century, but the twentieth, which now becomes interesting.
We turn for a theme to the coming generation; but we must not, like that member of Congress who announced himself as “addressing posterity,” be charged with talking so long that our audience will arrive in season to hear us.