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Our first youth is of no value; for we are never conscious of it, until after it is gone. But sometimes–always, I suspect, unless one is exceedingly unfortunate–there comes a sense of second youth, gushing out of the heart’s joy at being in love; or possibly, it may come to crown some other grand festival in life, if any other such there be. This bemoaning of one’s self. . . over the first, careless, shallow gayety of youth departed, and this profound happiness at youth regained,–so much deeper and richer than that we lost,–are essential to the soul’s development. In some cases, the two states come almost simultaneously, and mingle the sadness and the rapture in one mysterious emotion.
