If there is any one thing more than another that youth is to be envied for it is its capability for enjoying life. Ah me! what fools those men and women are who set themselves to make vast sums of money against 'a time of pleasure that is to be,' which seldom comes. And even when the fortune is made, whether it be a million or a modest ten thousand, lo! when they proceed to settle down to lead a happy life they find that all power of enjoying anything is clean gone--and for ever. They find out their mistake when it is too late. They are on a par with the man who orders for himself a splendid repast, and after sitting down to table finds that he has not got the least bit of appetite; that, on the contrary, everything is distasteful to him. This is a sad state to be in. Young folks should glory in their youth, especially girls still in their teens. Yet it is ever the same saying with them: 'I wish I were away from school,' or 'I wish I were a grown-up girl;' and then, when the days come, as Solomon says, when they have no pleasure in them, how different is the tune they pipe! 'Heigh-ho!' they sigh, 'my happiest time was my girlhood, and I did not know. Will these delightful days never come again?' 'Never again!' answers echo; 'never again!' There are many poems in our favourite Byron that bubble over with youth and life and freedom. Freedom ought to be the birthright of all. Hardly is there any one too old not to rejoice in it. But true freedom is probably only to be felt and enjoyed at sea or on the road in a caravan. It is much the same, and the writer of these lines should know, his earlier life being spent upon the ocean wave, his later on the road. But do not the following lines from Byron's 'Corsair' sparkle with youth and life? O'er the glad waters of the dark-blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free.... Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change.... Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, The exulting sense, the pulse's maddening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way! * * * * * It was only going to be a tour of a few weeks if all went well; but when once out and away on the road in his splendid palace-upon-wheels, with the glorious bracing breeze blowing, wild romantic scenery all around him, and the sun shining on the sea, he took a deep and satisfied breath. He was inhaling freedom itself. He felt at that moment, as did Byron's Corsair, 'his heart awaken and his spirit soar.'