MADEIRA
only too often youth is the one possession we are born with, which we have squandered ere we knew that it was worth anything. Now Madeira in his youth is harsh and austere, he has a pungent tongue, and speaks with bitterness; but age cometh over him, and, like a tender schoolmaster or parent, leads him gently along, and his tart sayings are metamorphosed into genial wit and a happy softness of utterance. His rough corners are rubbed off. The march of Time can do nothing against him, only to mellow and soften him and make us love him. Indeed, one can hardly be said to be on speaking terms with him unless we have him lurking in the wood these eight or ten years, and afterwards have completed his education and softened the acidities of his young
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