"Recollections of Boyhood," by E. Castan, 1872. Engraving of a painting. 'A peasant, the aged head of a family...is seriously ill...his eldest daughter and son...have brought his easy-chair, and placed it for him to sit in the fresh air and sunlight... For his amusement the young ones...are blowing bubbles...His mind lapses into a reverie of long ago...he dreams of the thoughtless time when he also, as a boy, blew bubbles. Then, as each shining, iris-tinted sphere is formed, and mounts rarefied with the children's warm breath, as they float and expand, waveringly, then suddenly disappear, he may recall hopes that, one after another, were formed, and soared, but that when largest and brightest were only about to burst. Ambition, reputation, cares, and toils were all transient bubbles...A moment, however, and all is gone; all is vacant with the vacancy of death; all is lost to mortal recognition... But is, indeed, all lost, and for ever? Certainly not so, materially. The bubble may fall as a drop of water and lie buried in the earth; it may evaporate in the air; but it is not lost. It will reappear in beauty again'. From "Illustrated London News", 1872.
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