He also
climbed high, but, like the others, fell; then fell again, and yet again,
and again and again. And now at last he can fall no further. He is old
now, he has ceased to struggle, and is only a poet. No one would risk a
horse with him now. His dream is over. Has any boyhood dream ever been
fulfilled? I must doubt it. Look at Brander Matthews. He wanted to be
a cowboy. What is he to-day? Nothing but a professor in a university.
Will he ever be a cowboy? It is hardly conceivable. Look at Stockton.
What was Stockton's young dream? He hoped to be a barkeeper. See where
he has landed. Is it better with Cable? What was Cable's young dream?
To be ring-master in the circus, and swell around and crack the whip.
What is he to-day? Nothing but a theologian and novelist. And Uncle
Remus--what was his young dream? To be a buccaneer. Look at him now.
Ah, the dreams of our youth, how beautiful they are, and how perishable!
The ruins of these might-have-beens, how pathetic! The heart-secrets that
were revealed that night now so long vanished, how they touch me as I
give them voice! Those sweet privacies, how they endeared us to each
other! We were under oath never to tell any of these things, and I have
always kept that oath inviolate when speaking with persons whom I thought
not worthy to hear them.
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