Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1838-01-26

knew not indeed all they had lost; but they
knew that they who had taught their young
lips the first prayer TO Heaven had already
gone thiher and they wept as childhood
weeps, while their little bands daily strewed
the new graves with fresh flowers Their
own hearts told them how they had loved :;
but alas l. it was only the trials and tears OF
after life, that could teach them how much
they had lost. In another spot sat an older
mourner. Bowed by the weight Of many
sorrows, she had come to her Fathers
house, 10 lay her tears and her sufferines
beneath the cross for she knew where the
weary might ind rest. The beginning of
the last year, had seen her the happy mother
OF happy family; daughters young and
beautiful. But consumption had fastened
upon them, and the flowers witbered ere il
was yet noon One by one they dropped
away, and left her who had watched over
their cradle, to weep over their tomb She
had learned the stern lesson that this short
est life soon teaches; that tear must follow
tear and broken heart a wounded spirit.
| Yet though on such an occasion il is sci.
dom that sadness does not steal over the
lighiest bosom, there were some TO whom
life had given only blessings But these,
alas were few; and many bruised reed
was now bowed TO the earth that The morn
ing sun and the evening dew should quick,
en- no more forever; many who had hanged
their harps on the willows, and sat down bv
the waters and wept--bul not as those with
out hope.
At the close of the service, the minister
rose and announced funeral then TO be at
tended. Ii was the funeral of one of the
last of those whom | had formerly known
| remembered him when young man, and
he was younger than myself one Of the
happiest and gayest in the village. but the
| light heart and the merry laugh were still
now; and as the coffin was lowered into
the grave, and | saw few old men pressing
around it, felt that 'ahe days of many
years" had passed over my head, and that
too must soon sleep in forgetlulness. And
so it is. One by one we follow our friends
TO the grave-the earth covers them in her
bosom-the long grass grows over their
tombstone new object fills the void in
our hearts-and when in the solitude Of az
ter years we weep over some new separa
tion we gaze with cold Inconsistencies al
the graves of forgotten friendships. The
memory Of past enjoymenis no longer AVA
kens the once warm affections OF the heart;
for time has placed there his cold hand, and
its fountains ale frozen forever.
II is a sad thing TO live 100 ong-to sur
vive our friends. our affections. and our
selves; TO feel that amid the world we are
most alone; that the Joy of the past can no
longer brighten the hope Of the future; for
the friends Of our youth have gone down
into darkness, and strangers occupy their
places With the world, but not of the
world, life has no object that we should wish
to live, and death no terIors that we should
fear to die. Our light is burning dim in the
socket-the flight OF the past admonishes
that the future is at hand; and the voice OF
the years that are gone, is warning us how
rapidly we are Fastening to those who may
not return
1t is at best but melancholy task to re-
view the records Of even the happiest life !;
to see how many pang has been register
ed there, which the world knows not Of TO
behold the sacred sanctuary laid open, and
through the smile on the calm brow, to see
the secret sorrow, and the silent tear swell
ing in their bitterness; like fountains that
well up from their deep cold beds, and gilt
ter and sparkle, as il the ray on the surface
warmed the cold depths wiihin-yet this is
the business OF the new years sabbath 1t
may be said perhaps tina! it is 10 recall our
blessings MS we'll as our tears, that this an
niversary is celebrated. And so it ought to
be- Bnt we count not the long hours OF
sunshine as they glide quietly by; yet we
number the tenpesls as they rise. and note
the desolation they leave behind them-thc
suferings that abide in their effects that
bring the cold blast over the fair years OF
promise, and leave the blight of the midew
when the winter is gone For myself the
day is far spent and the night is at hand
Many years yet eann0t see; another may
not The evening is closing around me,
and my sun is fast declining behind the
western horizon Yet through the course
of long life has its light been seldom
shrouded; and though clouds have been
sometimes gathered around it, hope in God
has still scattered the darkness and see
life and Immortality" written clearer and
brighter over the tomb, the nearer | draw 10
its threshold. So may it still be-
We contend that every man who advo,
Gates the humbug project OF an exclusive
hard money currency is making war upon
the property Of every man in the communl.
ty and ion rinv away the foundations of our