We see just what we were when they were our peers, and can strike the balance between that and whatever we may feel ourselves to be now.
No doubt we may sometimes be mistaken.

If we change our last simile to that very old and familiar one of a fleet leaving the harbor and sailing in company for some distant region, we can get what we want out of it.

There is one of our companions;--her streamers were torn into rags before she had got into the open sea, then by and by her sails blew out of the ropes one after another, the waves swept her deck, and as night came on we left her a seeming wreck, as we flew under our pyramid of canvas.

But lo! at dawn she is still in sight,--it may be in advance of us.

Some deep ocean-current has been moving her on, strong, but silent,--yes, stronger than these noisy winds that puff our sails until they are swollen as the cheeks of jubilant cherubim.