the extraordinary events that happened, it takes three strong men to believe half of them.
I like to hear one of the old boys telling all about it to a party of youngsters who he knows cannot con- tradict him. It is odd if, after a while, he doesn't swear that the moon shone every night when he was a boy, and that tossing mad bulls in a blanket was the favourite sport at his school.
It always has been, and always will be the same. The old folk of our grandfathers' young days sang a song bearing exactly the same burden; and the young folk of to-day will drone out precisely similar nonsense for the aggravation of the next generation. "Oh give me back the good old days of fifty years ago," has been the cry ever since Adam's fifty-first birthday. Take up the literature of 1835, and you will find the poets and novelists asking for the same impossible gift, as did the German Minnesingers, long before them, and the old Norse Saga writers long before that. And for the same thing sighed the early prophets and the philosophers of ancient Greece. From all accounts, the world has been getting worse and worse ever since it was created. All I can say is that it must have been a remarkably delightful place when it was first opened to the public, for it is very pleasant even now, if you only keep as much as possible in the sunshine, and take the rain good-temperedly.
Yet there is no gainsaying but what it must have
