[Charles O’Malley, The Irish Dragoon<br> Volume 1 (of 2) by Charles Lever]@TWC D-Link book
Charles O’Malley, The Irish Dragoon
Volume 1 (of 2)

CHAPTER XXX
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Many a bright dream has been dissolved, many a fairy vision replaced, by some dark reality; blighted hopes, false friendships have gradually worn callous the heart once alive to every gentle feeling, and time begins to tell upon us,--yet still, as the well-remembered melody to which we listened with delight in infancy brings to our mature age a touch of early years, so will the very association of these happy moments recur to us in our revery, and make us young again in thought.

Then it is that, as we look back upon our worldly career, we become convinced how truly is the child the father of the man, how frequently are the projects of our manhood the fruit of some boyish predilection; and that in the emulative ardor that stirs the schoolboy's heart, we may read the _prestige_ of that high daring that makes a hero of its possessor.
These moments, too, are scarcely more pleasurable than they are salutary to us.

Disengaged for the time from every worldly anxiety, we pass in review before our own selves, and in the solitude of our own hearts are we judged.
That still small voice of conscience, unheard and unlistened to amidst the din and bustle of life, speaks audibly to us now; and while chastened on one side by regrets, we are sustained on the other by some approving thought; and with many a sorrow for the past, and many a promise for the future, we begin to feel "how good it is for us to be here." The evening wore later; the red sun sank down upon the sea, growing larger and larger; the long line of mellow gold that sheeted along the distant horizon grew first of a dark ruddy tinge, then paler and paler, till it became almost gray; a single star shone faintly in the east, and darkness soon set in.

With night came the wind, for almost imperceptibly the sails swelled slowly out, a slight rustle at the bow followed, the ship lay gently over, and we were once more in motion.

It struck four bells; some casual resemblance in the sound of the old pendulum that marked the hour at my uncle's house startled me so that I actually knew not where I was.


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