This variation in the rate at which time appears to move, exercises a most decided influence upon the whole nature of our existence at every period of it.  First of all, it causes childhood—­even though it embrace only a span of fifteen years—­to seem the longest period of life, and therefore the richest in reminiscences.  Next, it brings it about that a man is apt to be bored just in proportion as he is young.  Consider, for instance, that constant need of occupation—­whether it is work or play—­that is shown by children:  if they come to an end of both work and play, a terrible feeling of boredom ensues.  Even in youth people are by no means free from this tendency, and dread the hours when they have nothing to do.  As manhood approaches, boredom disappears; and old men find the time too short when their days fly past them like arrows from a bow.  Of course, I must be understood to speak of men, not of decrepit brutes.  With this increased rapidity of time, boredom mostly passes away as we advance in life; and as the passions with all their attendant pain are then laid asleep, the burden of life is, on the whole, appreciably lighter in later years than in youth, provided, of course, that health remains.  So it is that the period immediately preceding the weakness and troubles of old age, receives the name of a man’s best years.

That may be a true appellation, in view of the comfortable feeling which those years bring; but for all that the years of youth, when our consciousness is lively and open to every sort of impression, have this privilege—­that then the seeds are sown and the buds come forth; it is the springtime of the mind.  Deep truths may be perceived, but can never be excogitated—­that is to say, the first knowledge of them is immediate, called forth by some momentary impression.  This knowledge is of such a kind as to be attainable only when the impressions are strong, lively and deep; and if we are to be acquainted with deep truths, everything depends upon a proper use of our early years.  In later life, we may be better able to work upon other people,—­upon the world, because our natures are then finished and rounded off, and no more a prey to fresh views; but then the world is less able to work upon us.  These are the years of action and achievement; while youth is the time for forming fundamental conceptions, and laying down the ground-work of thought.

In youth it is the outward aspect of things that most engages us; while in age, thought or reflection is the predominating quality of the mind.  Hence, youth is the time for poetry, and age is more inclined to philosophy.  In practical affairs it is the same:  a man shapes his resolutions in youth more by the impression that the outward world makes upon him; whereas, when he is old, it is thought that determines his actions.  This is partly to be explained by the fact that it is only when a man is old that the results of outward observation are present in sufficient