Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1854-06-03

The following beautiful sketch of one of the
too-o'ten- belied race, exhibiting the beauty
OF "the old age which crowns noble life .
is from " sermon on old age" recently
published -
Miss Kindly is aunt to everybody, and has
been SO lolg that noue remember to the con-
trary. The little children love her she help
ell their gra,ldmothers to bridal ornaments
some three-s score years ago. Nay, this boys
grandfather found the way to college lay
through her pocket. Generations not her
own rise up and call her blessed. To this
mau's father her patient toll gave the first start
i'll life. That great fortune-when it was a
seed, she carried it in her hand. That wide
river of reputation ran out of the cup her
bounty filed Now she is old-very old
The little children, who cling about her, with
OPEN mouth and great round eyes, wonder
that anybody should ever be so old or that
Aunt Kindly ever had mothee to kiss her
mouth 10 them she is coeval with the sun,
and, ike that, an institution of the country.
! At Christmas they think she is the wife Of
| St. Nicholas himself, such an ad eat is there
of blessings from her hand. She has helped
to lay Messiah in many poor mans crib
Her hands are thin-her voice feeble-her
| back is bent; she walks with a staf-the best
1
| pattern, vet of her own nice make. She has
great round spectacles, AID holds her book
away off the other side of the candle whea she
reads. For moe than sixty years she has
beed special providence to the funily How
she used to go forth-the very charity of God
Ito s1oth, and heal, bless How industrious
are her hands, How thoughtful and witty
that fertile mind Her heart has gathered
power to love in all the eighty six years of
her toisome life. When the birth angel came
to related house, she was there to be the
mother mother; ay, mother also to the new
born baby's soul. And when the wings of
death tapped in the street, aud shook neigh
boris door, she smoothed down the pillow for
the tainting head; and soothed and cheered
the spirit Of the waiting man, opeliug the cur
tains Of heaven, that he might look through
and see the welcoming face Of the dear Iin-
tic Mother; nay, she put the wings of her
own strong experienced piety under HIM, aud
sought to bear HIM up.
Now these things are passed bv. No. they
are not passed by; they are remembered in
the memory OF the dear God, aad esesy go,d
deed she has done is treasured in her own
heart. The bulb shuts up the summer III its
breast, which in winter will come out fra
grant hyacinth. Stratum after stratum her
good works are laid up, inperishabie in the
geology of her character.
1t is near noon now. She is alone She
has been thoughtful all day, talking inwardly
to her elf. The family notice it, and say moth
ing. In her chamber, from private drawer,
she takes a Little casket, and from that book,
gilt elged aud clasped but the clasp is worn,
the guild ng is old, the binding faded by long
use. Her hands tremble as she opens it. Fist
she reads her own name, ON the hy-leaf; only
her Christian name, /" Agnes" aud the date.
Sixty eight years ago this day. it was written
there, in clear, youthful, clerkly hand--with
little tremble in it, as if the heart beat over
quick. 1t is very well worn, the dear old
Bible 1t opens Of its own accord at the four
teenth chapter Of st. John. Thee is little
folded piece Of paper there: it touches the
first Verse and the twenty -ses enth. Sic
sees neither: she reads both out of her
soul g Let not thine heart be troubled xe
bel ege in God, believe also ii me- q Peace
leave with You. My peace / give unto YOU.
moi as the world giyeth give l unto you.'--
She opens the paper. There is a little brown
dust in it; perhaps the remnant of flower.
She takes the precious relic III her hand, made
cold by emotion. She drops tear on it, and
the dust is transigured before her eyes it is
fresh rose Of the spring, not quite half blown,
dewey fresh. She is old no longer. 1t is not
Aunt Kindly now; 1t is sweet Agnes, as the
maiden of eighteen was eight and-sixty years
ago, one day III May, when all nature was
woosome aud winning, and every flower bell
runs in the marriage Of the year. Her lover
had just put that red rose OF the spring into
her hand, and the good God another Ii her
cheek. not quite half blown, dewy fresh
Tho young mans arm, is round her her
brown curls fall upon bis shoulder; she feels
his breath on her face, his cheek ON hers
their lips join, ind like two morning dew
drops in that rose, their two loves rush into
one. But the youth must wander to fat
land, They viii think Of each other IL they
look at the Northern Star. She bids him take
her Bible. Hesaw the North Star hang over
the turrets OF many q foreign town. His soul
Went to God-there is as straight, i road from
India as from any other spot--and he Bibls
came back-the Divinel love in It. without the
human lover, the leaf turned down at tho
blessed words of 81, johns first aud twsAty-
i2Hf 8si5 a3ea4 8ti. taassitassas s,ys,s s.s.4e