ing rooms.

At length the silence reached even them, and they crowded in the doorway
to listen. Only the hostess held back, sending her husband an anxious
look. 'Ah, dear me!' she sighed, half aloud, 'he is sure to make a
muddle of it. He has already made all his speeches; what would he be at
now?'

And he certainly did not begin well. He stammered, cleared his throat,
got entangled among the usual toast expressions, such as 'I will not
fail to--ahem--I am impelled to express my, my--that is, I would beg
you, gentlemen, to assist me in--'

The gentlemen sat and stared down into their glasses, ready to empty
them upon the least hint of a conclusion. But none came. On the
contrary, the speaker recovered himself.

For something really lay at his heart. His joy and pride over his son,
who had come home sound and well after having passed a respectable
examination, the judge's flattering speech, the good cheer, the wine,
the festive mood--all this put words into his mouth. And when he got
over the fatal introductory phrases, the words came more and more
fluently.

It was the toast of 'The Young.' The speaker dwelt upon our
responsibility towards children, and the many sorrows--but also the many
joys--that the parents have in them.

He was from time to time compelled to talk quickly to hide his emotion,
for he felt what he said.

And when he came to the grown-up children, when he imagined his dear son
a partner in his business, and spoke of grandchildren and so on, his
words acquired a ring of eloquence which astonished all his hearers, and
his peroration was greeted with hearty applause.

'For, gentlemen, it is in these children that we, as it were, continue
our existence. We leave them not only our name, but also our work. And
we leave them this, not that they may idly enjoy its fruits, but that
they may continue it, extend it--yes, do it much better than their
fathers were able to. For it is our hope that the rising generation may
appropriate the fruits of the work of the age, that they may be freed
from the prejudices that have darkened the past and partially darken the
present; and, in drinking the health of the young, let us wish that,
steadily progressing, they may become worthy of their sires--yes, let us
say it--outgrow them.

'And only when we know that we leave the work of our generation in abler
hands, can we calmly look forward to the time when we shall bid adieu to
our daily task, and then we may conf