Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1855-07-06
An Old rEan,s ReyerLe.

! lueTe Is . OuauSo SOm0 OfSR 1uS oPhh VI
my dream" Well, why shouldn't il?
am in the "sere and yellow leaf" True,
my health is perfect, my appetite good, my
sleep sweet and undisturbed No starts
no nightmare, no aches, no pains. The
world looks bright The glorious sun is as
! refulgent, the moon is the same beautiful
orb, and the stars are as brilliant, as ever
The ripples on The water quiver with as
much lovelness and the roll Of the surfup-
on the shore is no less soothing The earth
spreads out before me with its wonted and
varied interest; and l long, in this wintry
weather, for the coming Of flowers and the
singing birds. Visions Of the past come to
me with freshness such as young Spring
filings over the meadows. reyel in tho'ts
of the past; cling to the hearts that once
lived and loved me; and hear the laugh
snd the language that have long sirce
ceased to be tie exponent of JOY or the
wall Of sorrow. Smiles, too, break in upon
me, and eyes send into my own all the
sweets Of their silent but expressive lam
guage. Hands strike mine with a warmth
as genia! as though :hey were not mould
cred into dust; and voices often startle me
with their silver tones, as though they had
not been hushed in silence for half centu-
Try. And yet am melancholy!
At this moment there comes TO me a
voice in song. hear the words l am
now just in the mood l was when, at twelve
years of age, this voice and these words
first broke upon my ear. l had been out
fishing, with relative who yet liVes-an
honor to bis species. The moon was high
up in the heavens. The light made silver
of the bay before me. In the piazza sat
that long lost one. l soon found myself
seated by her side, and soon after my head
upon ber shoulder. How still was that
hOurI So still were the night and the wa
ter, and SO bright the moon Natures
sweet restorer" began to steal over my
spirit. A dreamy feeling pervaded my
heart and senses, when
am monarch of all | survey,
My right there is none to dispute
From the center all round to the sea,
! am lord ofths fowl and the brute, etc.
was borne to my ear in sounds of sweetest
melody. l hear it, and sec it, and feel it
all, now
And am sad. What is it that comes
over my spirit thus? All me! is it the
lesden influence of Time? What power
is in timel How it levels everything! At
its word, all things crum5le to dust. Who
ever has lived to count sixty winters, but
has cause Of mourning? Three genera
tiOns upon an average, gone! This could
be borne with; but when TO this ssdden-
ing retrospect is added the evidence of
severed ties. Some live yet, who lived so
long ago; but how changedl Time not
only kills and buries human bodies, but
scatters. l find, hoar-frost over the once
fresh. and invigorating, and soul bappyfying
sympathies Of the heart Once, to perceive
that pain, or bereavement or want had
orertaken a companion. was to create in
the heart corresponding feeling; and the
sympathetic cord would not cease to vi
brste until the suffering friend was led forth
into the sunshine of life and happiness
"Slnk with, but never desert your friend"
was and is my motto Friendship! Oh.
how | once in my very soul condemned
Goldsmith for having written:
And what is Friendship but name,
A charm that luIIs to sleep;
a shade that follows wealth and fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep?
/ did not believe a word of ii. Oh, no;
my young heart reyolted at such an impu-
talion upon its holy implses. But time has
demonstrated its truth almost TO the letter
| have seen much of this, and been made
to feel it, too. ! would not speak Of it COM
plsiningly. 1t is, l suppose, the common
lot Of our common humanity, and l am in,
of course, for my share of it And yet
cannot deny 20 my heart its love of the
past, crowded as it is with graves and sep
ulchres; nor refuse to it the aliment it de-
rives from thoughts of the living. How its
memories keep me among the dead! How
| love TO realize them as known when liv-
ing Nor is it painful to see them in their
lonely and last resting places. There, the
heart feels not; no tears of sorrow trickle
down their cheeks, no pang strikes the
bosom, making it heaVe with anguish It
is when the living. the survivors, known to
my boybood's years, and my youth and
manhood, seem not to think Of me as they
once did, when my sun was bright, and
fortune smiled over me. and when what
l had was theirs. To witness such forget
fulness, and to see a frost CONCEAL all these
currents oft soul, and to feel that every
limpid stream of the heart is frozen; this
it is that makes me sad All! "wbo would
live slways?"
1 love, with as deep feeling as ever, the
laughing. joyful pranks and play-ways Of
innocent children. Oh, yes; l am touched |
in every chord Of my heart, and often,
when can do SO. Join in their sports. 1
love to see the more ripened psstimes of
youth. Would they were all of them inno-
cent? The beautiful. too. just bursting,
like the bud, into womsnhood-What, this
side Of heaven, is there to compare to it
All these, know, are within the limits of
that enlarged and colder circle in which
revolvs. But the sight of their happiness
charms me. This never makes me sad
1t is the death of friendship, the freezing
up of the hearts of contemporaries and
how few are they!-it is this that saddens
me so!
have been led into this train Of thought
BY recent attempt to revive associations