The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1857-08-13
An Attack of Old Ago.


-sct-
An Attack of Old Ago.
The following prettily written sketch
is copied from the Chicago journal:
One sometimes finds queer things in
the newspapers, and nowhere Queerer
than in the columns of advertisements.
The Weekly Commercial, published at
New Boston, Illinois, contains the fol-
lowing announcement, involving about
as grave an error in the philosophy of
living as one often encounters. Itruns
thus:
"My wife and have an attack Of
something that we fear is old age. It
ooks like it, and feels like it-has been
coming on for some time, and gets grad
Iually worse every year; we fear we
shall not get well while on the farm
Said complaint is doubtless worse, in
consequence of our always having been
hard workers; but we cant stand the
hard knocks any more. We have no
help, only as we hire, and we are going
to sell our home, that We may find time
to die"
The advertiser goes on to enumerate
the good qualities of the old home
stead, such as beautiful groves, bearing
orchards, running water, excellent build
|ings, two hundred acres of land, and
all only six miles from New Boston
And this kingdom-for Kingdom it is
the unhappy owner proposes to abdi-
cate; and what is very probable, move
to New Boston, with a neighbor at each
elbow, talking over his head, and sew
entccn strange broods of chickens in
his patch Of q garden, from the time Of
Ipea-planting to potato harvest.
His butter is the color of gold now,
and the milk is made Of sweet clover;
but when he reaches New Boston, he
will turn geologist, and buy an article
exhibiting a strata that would puzzle
DIR. Buckland, varying in tint, as they
will, from a London brown to an agu-
ish pallor; his COW will be thin, and
the cream in the milk will know nothing
! like q resurrection.
He will set out two walking-sticks
| for a shade ON each side of his gate and
they will futtor two sickly leaves
apiece, as he passes, and thinks Of the
"grove Of young timber that wooed
the summer wind, and sheltered the
summer birds, hard by his door.
! Old age has found him there in the
country walled round about with pure
air, and SO he proposes to eyacuate the
fortress, and fly to New Boston. If old
age crccps now, it will quicken its pace
to a Canterbury gallop by the time he
reaches the town.
And then, he proposes to sell his
home, that he may find leisure to die
As if there were any spot in the wide
world whence one would rather hail
than hOmc-hOme in the bosom Of Ma.
ture, the home his own labor has adorn.
ed, and his own memory hallowed. OF
all the host that knock at the Celestial
Gate" and find it opened to them, full
many will be from the country graves
from slceping-places in the orchards
with the sweet drift Of spring blossoms
around their pillows; from the lee Of
the green woods; from the hills their
own hands have furrowed. Leisure tC
die-poor mani When he gets to New
J Boston he will have nothing else to do.
But then, after all, our abdicating
king lcW be uncrowned in spite Of us
and turn a citizen of-New Boston,
| He will have abundance Of time to
watch the approaches Of age; he will
have leisure for the rheumatism; the
leaden days, like the weights Of an old
clock, will run down, and he will go
out once a week to see "the old place.
Not but that he likes the tolcn; but
then the orchard, you know, he planted
it, and named the trees, and waited for
them to grow; and the ioe-oold well,
and the pleasant shade, and the old
fashioned fire, and the wheat of his own
sowing, and the homemade butter, and
the clboW-room, and the flocks in his
own folds-he misses those as tho years
wear on, and by-and-by he concludes
that God made the country and he re-
turns thither just to be by himself-he
and his old wife; and the leaves win
now slowly down from the trees, and
the song is all gone out Of the woods,
and the farm is white and drifted; and
there is a great bed Of glowing GOALS
upon the hearth; and the old man and
his wife sit together in the flush Of the
home twilight, and the narrow-Waisted
clock tioks steadily on; and the old man
looks out at the window, and up through
the branches Of the leafess tree, that he
brought there in his hand, when he was
younger than now; and he sees, as he
looks the stars and the clear heaven,
and so hopefully and trustfully, he
bids the world "good night"