Litchfield enquirer., 1834-10-02

"VN C"Sh udy to NlSIt the young lnherltOr of life; to watch over his dreamless sEum- ber-to trace each others looks in his conn'enance, and to ponder the felicity, of which he is the bearer to them.
 Momths pass.-The cradle is deserted. But the chamber. floor is s,rewed with play things, and there is little one loitering among them, whose half lisped words, aud hearty laugh, and sunny countenance tell you, tIfat the entrance into life is over pathway of flowers. The cradle is empty, but the last prayers of the parents are ut tered over the small crib, which stands by their own bedside, aud their latest attention is given to the peaceful breathings of its occupant.
 Years pass.-Chidhoo has strengthen ed into hoyhood, aud gamboled along into manhood. Old connexions are broken. parents are sieepingin their graves-new inlimates are formed-a new home is about him, new cares distract. He is abroad, struggling amid the business of life, or rest ing from it with those whom lle has chosen from his own generation. Time is begin { ming to wrinkle his forehead, and thought has robbed his looks of gaiety, and study has dimmed his eyes. Those who began life, after he had grown up, are fast crowd- ing him out of it, aud there are many claimants upon his industry and love for protection and support. Years pass.-llis own children have be- come men and are quitting him, as he also quilted the home of his fathers. His steps have lost their elasticity-his hand has be- come familiar with the cane, to which he is obliged to trust in his walks. He has left the bustle which fatigued him. He looks anxiously in each days paper among the deaths-and then ponders over the name of an old friend, and tries to persuade himself that he is younger, and stronger, and has better hold upon life than any of his contemporaries.
 Months p0ss.--He gradually diu,inishes the circle of his activity. He dislikes to go abroad, where he finds so many new fa- ces: and he grieves to meet his former companions, after a short absence, they seem to have grown SD old and intirm.- Quiet en nvments only are relished-a lit- tie conversation about old times--a sober game at whist-a religious trealise-and his early bed, form for him the sum total of his pleasures.
 Weeks puss.-In6rmity keeps him in his chamber. His walks are limited to the smsN space between his easy chair and his bed. His swollen limbs arc wrapt in fan nels. His sight is failing-his ears refuse their duty, and his cup is but half filled, since otherwise, his shaking hand cannot carry it to it's shrunken lips. without spill ling its contents. His powers are weaken- ed-his faculties are blunled--hiS strength is lost.
 1. Days pGss.-The old man does not leave his bed-his memory is failing-he talks but cannot be undcrstood--he asks ques- tions, but they relate to the transactions of former gcnerations~-he speaks of occur rences, bu, the recollection of no one a. round him can go back to their scenes-he seems to commune with comrades, but when he names them, it is found that the waters of time and oblivion have long cov- cred their :ombs.
 Hours pass.-The taper grows dinner and dimmer-the machinery moves yet more and more slowly-the sands are few CT as they measure tho allotted span. The motion of those about him is unheeded, or becomes a vexation. Each fresh inquiry after his health is knell. Tho springs of life can no longer force OH its wheels-the silver cord' is fast nntwisting-the pitcher is broken at the fnunlain-and time ( is a burthen.' His children are about him, but he needs them not--his friends are near, but he does not recognize them. Tho cir- cie is completed. The course is run-and utter weakness brings the damp, which uslIers in tho night of death.
 Minutes pass.-tlis breathing goes softer and lower-his pulse beats fainter and fec bier. Those around him are listening, but cannot tell when they cease. The embers are burnt out-and the blaze flashes not, before it expires. His threo score years and ien' are numbered. Human life is ed.'-New- EngLand Gala1y.
 Can hhe Poor Feel?-Passing mp Grand street yes- I terday, we observed poor, hut respectable looking female sitting on a stOOp and weeping bitterly. The ] tears of a woman always irresistible appeal we stepped up and casting an eye upon a s"me,hing se agon'zngly pressing 10 her bosom, discover ed a-dead child !MiserAble mother !--raised in the ol afue ,-bui the slel,erless victim of drunken hns6aad -yei, ia all the mildSw that had fall e" 0" her hopes, clingi0g tO her breaess litls one with all the earnesness of mothers love. We sighed as we turned away from the touching scene and said in the pathetic language of acripHre can woman forget her sucking chld."-N Y. paper. 1 Can the rich Je<t?-Therc would have bees som's point iU the above ariicle if the writer had told he phi his hand in bis puckei and gave the destitute wo man five dollar bill. Bu, he only "sighed."