Comfortable Youth thinks otherwise.
The days at a well-ordered country-house, where a divining lady rules, speed to the measure of a waltz, in harmonious circles, dropping like crystals into the gulfs of Time, and appearing to write nothing in his book.

Not a single hinge of existence is heard to creak.

There is no after-dinner bill.

You are waited on, without being elbowed by the humanity of your attendants.

It is a civilized Arcadia.