The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1855-02-03
TIE BATTLE CF LIFE.
Ey TIL NTIIOE OF
"7Ie .Schoo'ma<tcr Of ne Ca'ocombs.'

"Thcre," said a haired man, as he
threw dowr his pen. and pressed his thin,
white hands to his throlbing temples, sit is
finished now, and there Will be bread enough
for tomorrow. Then he leaned back in his
chair, and closed his eyes, which had long
been ,lc.raudcd OF their ncctul rest.
But Herbert Courtcnay, though his ewes
were shut. was not aslecp-thoSc eyes were
too hard and hot for sleep to tarrv on them
and We: the wearcd man was taking rest.
1t is a mercy that man can rest. even when
he cannot sleep. The wcaricd mind can
part from the heavy wrctchcdncss of the pes
rnt and rcposc in the b,isstulncss oftl!c past.
And the past has many couchcs on which tlic
wcaricd mind car throw itself and >.cep.
1t is resting when ii recalls the sweetness of
a mothers smile. and when it wakes up the
faded echoes of its childish sports, and when
i remembers what life was before it became
thing Of toll and guile 1tSsurcdlv the davs
of childhood have many soft and downy
couch, on which wcaricd limps lie down and
rest.
1t was to the past that llerbcrt's mind turn.
ed for rcposc for experience hal taught it
that to try to rest in the future was but to
nave wild and fantastic dreams. What had
:he future ever done for him? Had it not
mocked him Had it not lied to him ?
Had not It's mos. beautiful clouds, which had
FILTERED with white and cold like Tie tempt,
of Jerusalem, grown hard in their outline
and frowncd upon him like some !ortre.
whose cmbrasrrcs were garnishcl with tn,
instruments Of death: Had they not chang
I'd from summer brightness to wintry dark
ness, and she'd rhillin. SHOWS upon his heal
Whenever therefore, he needed rest, he al
ways turned to the past.
Herbert Courtcnay, then, was resting-h'
forgot that his hairs were grey. that his eye
were hard and rcd, that his hands were trans
parcnt-thcy were so thin that his cheek
were like those Of the aged-thcy were s
wrinklcd and pale. lie was again boy; hi
clark brown hair was falling on his mother
face, his rosy check was pressed to hers, HI
round plump arms were encircins her nccl
and tie light was dancing in his glistcnin
eye, as >nbeam' dance on The ripples OF
lake. WHO could say that this was not 70
to him?
Young men anxious, eager, strong. '
look for rest in the worlds tuturc-so far ;
earthly rest can he attained, We will find
only in the early past
But who was Herbert Courtcnay, and wi
should his grey hair, and thin, transpare
hands be chroniclcl, when such signs a
common to every one that is old
Herbert Cour:enay, was nat old: his yea
numbered Gveand-t thirty: his blood was IL
dried by TIE sappins hand of age: dsspati,
with her iccnt;ous touch had never stolen
single blush from lis cheek the hot blast
carly sin had not dried up the moisture of h
once glistening evc-that blast which parch
whatsoever 1t passes over. as the simeon do
the fountain and the shrub. His history
chronicled because he became old in anoth
way than this.
Five-and-thrty years, then, was IIcrhe
Courtenav's present age, and it was trout
that had made him old.
lie had fought in the battle of life, al
been wounded and trampled under foot, al
detilcd with dust, and, for all this, he had !
ceivcd no pay. no pension, no discharge. r
wrinkles IN his checks, the whitencss of |
transparent hands. the grey hairs which co
cred his head, were the uniform which su
an one as he was compelled to wear.
Herbert Cour,enay dreamt not of a d
chargc-he felt that his destiny was to fic
until he died.
Nor could he of whom we speak be said
have been brought up from the firs, As thou.
he were to live and die in the warfare of Ii
lie had been era He'd in luxury: ever had
been whispered to in affections sotiest ton
nc had the prospect before him bo,,, of hon
and OF wealth and al this he shared with
sister lovely a, a sunbeam, holy as a saint.
Surronn,!in. him by all these tlc:s;n