Massachusetts spy and Worcester advertiser. [volume] ([Worcester, Mass.]) 1823-1825, 1825-03-02
For The Massachusetts, Spy.I
THE BLUE STOCKING CLUB.
No. 10.

THE BLUE STOCKING CLUB.
No. 10.
" Hence, loathed Melancholy" MILTON.
&c Full swells the deep, pure fountain of young
Where on the heart and from the heart we
took
Our first and sweetest nurture" BYRON.
| am not among the number of those who
are disposed to rail at the degeneracy Of the
times. believe the age we live in to be as
good, and as pleasant, as any which is marked
out by the mle-stones on the turnpike of time
NOT even excepting the boosted Augustan.
The superior wisdom of our ancestors has al
ways been favorte theme of defamation
The old matron signs when she sees ier
daughter preparing for the festiVity of the eve
ming dance, and mournfully tells her things
were not SO when she was young not remem-
bering her own gay carousais, and forgetting
too that there is a time for all things. am a
desnltory thinker, and Of course | shall be a
desultory essayist and now that am fairly
on the business of dancing, | cannot refrain
from INDUCING little in my speculations on
that subject. | am an old man. Like all old
men, am grown garrulous and childish
Like all old men, | love to look back on the
the journey of life, and to trace the thread of
my being, even up to my boysh days. 1t is
sweet to rest our eyes on the green sunny spots
which have been scattered like smiling isles
over the dark ocean of existence. 1t sladdens
the heart, to drink once more those waters of
life which sin and misfortune had not poison
ed. There is a mild light resting on the days
of our childhood, mellowed by the lapse of
time, richer and more beautiful than an au-
tumn sunset.
Often when have fallen into this thought
full mood, and have given up my imagination
to the influence of these delicious reveries, has
my recollection rested with peculiar pleasure
on my " dancing days" Times, to be sure,
and customs, have altered. Then it was not
only during the long nights of winter, when
there is nothing without but desolation, and
the mind naturally turns in upon its own rel
sources for enjoyment, that we were wont I'd
move the light step to the sound of music
But often on an autumn or summer evening.
when the toll of the day was over, have pass
cd an hour in my tavorite recreation. With
no light but the fair moon in the silent sky,
and its glorious chandelier of stars; on car
pet, woven by the fingers of nature, and dyed
with her own inimitable colorng; with no roof
over US, but the blue canopy of heaven, many
time have mingled in the mazes of the nl-
raj dance.-And now love to sit, and see
my descendants, enjoying those scenes as
was wont to do. 1t calls up those happy re-
min,scences that sweeten the cup of age. It
is this manner of looking on the affairs of the
past, and the present, to which attribute, in
no small degree, my good humor; and of which
| am as proud, now in my old age, as was of
my dancing Sin days of auld lang syne.n
Cheertulness, habitual and genuine cheer
fulness, hold to be cardinal virtue. 1t has
become fashionable, oflate, with a particular
class of moody and disconnected beings, who
would fain be looked on as geniuses, to affect
hatred OF the world and its inhabitants, to
wrap themselves up in a mantle of misanthro-
py, and endeavor to make the world believe
that their minds are of too ETHEREAL a nature to
hold communion with the common herd of
mortals. know not whether most to pity,
or despise man Of this character. would
pity him for thus voluntarily excluding him
self from some Of the purest sources of happi-
ness, and refusing to drink the free waters
from perennial spring of enjoyment. would
despise him for his hypocrisy for endeayorino
to palm himself upon the world as possessing
mind of too refined and delicate a texture.
70 bear its ills, and to grapple with its Difficult,
| ties. would despise him for his hatred Of
his fellow man-but this feeling is usually re-
ciprocal. Thanks to my presiding star If,
indeed, have any-my temperament is not
one of this kind. SThat precious boon, a
cheerful spirit, has been granted me by iudul-
| gent heaven, ard it is a treasure of more val.
| ue than fine gold.
There is one provision of nature, which nv
subject has led me to notice, and which do
not remember to have seen commented on,
either by the professed metaphysician, or the
practical moralist. 1t is that constitution OF
our intellectual being, which causes us, in old
age, to forget the incidents and particulars Of
maturer years, while it leaves the hours of our
boyhood distinctly delineated on our memo.
ries. Asw grow old in years, the events OF
life which is always more or less clouded by
sorrow, and soured by disappointment, fade
from the sight, while the far-off season of Young
life, beheld through the gathering mists OF
| time, greets our eyes arrayed in increased
beauty and loneliness. 1t may be compared
to that scene Of sublime grandeur in the ma tn.
raj world, where the traveller at the close o.
the day, looks back to the bright hll-tou
whence he started, and while all the inter.
vening distance is losing itself in the shadow.
of descending twilight, the rays of the setting
sun still linger in evening softness on that spot
and pour down upon its distant summit flood
of serene and tranquil brightness. q.
For the Massachusetts, Spy.1