And when at last the black steam-tug with the skeleton arms, which comes out of the mist sooner or later and takes us all in tow, grapples her and goes off panting and groaning with her, it is to that harbor where all wrecks are refitted, and where, alas! we, towering in our pride, may never come.
So you will not think I mean to speak lightly of old friendships, because we cannot help instituting comparisons between our present and former selves by the aid of those who were what we were, but are not what we are.

Nothing strikes one more, in the race of life, than to see how many give out in the first half of the course.

"Commencement day" always reminds me of the start for the "Derby," when the beautiful high-bred three-year olds of the season are brought up for trial.

That day is the start, and life is the race.

Here we are at Cambridge, and a class is just "graduating." Poor Harry! he was to have been there too, but he has paid forfeit; step out here into the grass back of the church; ah! there it is:- "HUNC LAPIDEM POSUERUNT SOCII MOERENTES." But this is the start, and here they are,--coats bright as silk, and manes as smooth as eau lustrale can make them.