The Union and eastern journal. [volume] (Biddeford [Me.]) 1854-1858, 1857-02-06
Misfellantuns.
From Hs,ysr's Nssasiss.
THE OLD MANS STORY.

full frame, now totter under their weiSh'
and my vision is now 20 dim that oil natur
Is but an indistinct shadow to me. An
among the scattered gray locks upon m.
head there remains only here and there
tavern hair to tel Of youth now passed ant
gone-and rsmsmbrsness Of hours which
can never come sgsin!-and l soon shal
sink into my grave,as Others have done befor'
me, forgotten, unknown, save to few who's
hearts will still sadden at the recollectioni
ofme. Think not, dear reader, that these
are the querulous complaints Of an old do
tard. whose last act is an effort to bring
hImselt into notice, that his name may live
after him. II is not 80. I do not murmur'
lam well content that so it should be.
have better object than the mere seeking
Of the "bubble reputation. want to do
you some good before ! leave the world
Excuse, then, the simple style Of an old
man who has forgotten all his flowers Of
rhetoric, and whose first attempt at author
ship is made when he can not even be inspir-
ed by Natures beauties, when his head ID
bowed meath the cares and sorrows of seven
ty winters; but who, notwithstanding, has
still q heart warm for those who yet stand
upon the threshold Of life inexperienced in
the troubles and also in the joys which ma.
turer life brings withit.
Ny life has not been an eyentful one; the
same path which I have trod others have
trod before me. have climbed its sleeps,
and toiled in the burden and heart of il
day (; but have, too, walked in its pleas
ant valleys, and been refreshed by its cool
ing streams. Occasionally serpent has
crossed my path, an adder has stung me.
Sometimes flower has smiled before mo in
all its beauty, and when | pluckod it l have
found treacherous thorns but do not for
get the flowers without thorns which gave
to me nothing but pleasure. There was,
however n turning from this wcll-beaten
tack-a passage in my life's history which
redeems it from monotony, and which may
" in you as listener for little while
This one passage which, through a long vista
of forty-nine years, quivers this aged frame
with sickening horror, will send thrill
through your young hearts which will be
recompense sufficient for any trouble on my
part.
My life began in the State Of Georgia,
where my father owned large plantation.
He had started in life with but little, but by
those strange turns and quirks Of fortune
had amassed an immense property. 1t is
not worth while, as it has nothing to do
with my story, to enter into description Of
the personal appearance, character, and
mental qualifications Of my dear father
Suffice it to say he was noble, high souled
Southerner, warm-hearted and generous to
degree which had Dame Fortune been loss
constant, would have made and left him q
beggar. 1t might with truth have been
sand of him that he was without littleness of
feeling, and it makes my heart swell with
honest pride to call him father.
Nv mother! Oh, what streams Of tender
ness flow in ut the very name, refreshing
and making me young once more! What
do not recall Of her that is beautiful and
lovely with her soft brown hair, and
smooth, pure brow, trayerscd, even as l
first remember it, by lines Of care; the deep
blue eyes, too, with the shadow over them,
showing that life had not been without its
strifes TO her.
She had rejoiced in the birth of many
children but bud after bud had dropped
unblossoming from the parent tree until l
alone was lcft, land upon me was layisheda II
the tenderness Of her loving heart. There
wa. an other member Of our family whom
l must mention; twas ward ofmy fathers
"A young orphan girl, left to him by an in.
innate friend when she was but an infant.
She was the only being who ever attempted
to rival me in the affection Of my parents,
and we loved each other too fondly for jeal-
ously. From being pure, fairy.like little
being, like, indeed, to fair flower, we call
ed her Lily. The name suited her well
she was just one to smile and rejoice in the
sunshine, bu. bend and droop before the
storm. She was younger than myself, and
| well remember the pride Itook in protect
ing her. She was afraid Of everything; ant
do no. believe that any soldiers heart eve,
throbbed in the excitement Of the battlefield
with more pleasurable emotions than die
mine when Lily would look to me for pro
lection against some imaginary danger
Sometimes it was rabbit, ~ timld Us her
sslf; sometimes merely a stump, which, II
her eyes, was certainly an old and very fsro
cious man and sometimes 1t was but
harmless deniren of the poultry.yard walk
ing toward her. These dangers did not, l
is true, require any exercise Of courage Il
enhance their pleasure to my boys spirit
but il was real happiness to feel that wa
looked to for relief, and I felt my self maj
in giving it. Thus our happy CHILDHOOD
passed away, with not cloud to obscure it
brightness, until l was fifteen years old ant
Lily twelve. Thcnit was thought advisabl
that I should 50 from home to school, AM
take my first lesson in tho minds and man
ncrs Of my fsllowmsn. Ishall never forge
our grief in tho SEPARATION; how Lily clun,
around my neck and sobbed as If her littl
heart would break and how my dear fatbc
took her in his arms, and laughingly bad
her cheer up-that Willie would soon COM
home man, and she should be his Itti
wife. I saw tho surprised eyes and blush
ing face Of the little girl, heard my father
hearty laugh. and started of into tn
| .o.,a w;tb n new idea in nv head, and