Weekly Trinity journal., 1858-02-20
[Original.l
Reveries of am Old Man.
BY 0ROvELANp.

am an old man, standing alone at the end Of
life's journey. The winds of many years have
deeply SCARED my brow with burrows. and mani
fold burthens have bent the form that used to
move about so stately. AS lean on my staff |
look back through the deserted vale OF dead
years, and oh, how changeful and dim Is the
moonlight track of past existence, and with what
a magic power the memory of olden time steals
over me!
forgot life heavy cares and disappointments;
heard not the moaning winds, or the rain, that
like tears distilled from heaven, fell on the sim
stained and desert earth. l was far away, revel-
ling In the happy past, the days OF youth 3 inno'
cence and bright visions. On the banks Of phan-
tom rivers, flowers, long faded, grew again In I'm
mortality of youth, and walked by cool streams
whose waters sent echoes through the hazel brake.
The trees on the river-b bank swayed about nod
ding to their images in the water, while their
leaves trembed with the gentle surges Of the
air which brought up the low, sweet melody Of
the waters. l trode through the waving grass as
green and fresh and dewy as though sixty years
bad not burned and frozen It to annihilation.
Far back In my pilgrimage sought happiness
by wandering through many lands. visited
countries celebrated In history aud song-I have
walked in places where the renowned in ancient
and modern days stood in statuary before me ;
warrior, orator, poet and statesman have lin
gered among the tombs of viceroys, kings aud
emperors, famed in historic page have trav-
elled among the ruins of classic Greece and trode
the awe-inspiring grounds of Palestine, counted
stars on the mellow skies of Italy, and felt the
perfumed breath from Indian groves on my face
now scanned and withered and hoary with age
frost To these tme-tracks, shown, only, by dim,
expiring tapcrs, here and there. my heart turns
now when age, and poverty, and sorrow have be-
come my travelling companions. With summer
memories of childhood and youth fresh In my
heart, the white hairs of age are falling by my
side. And yet II seems but yesterday that leap
ed and laughed with a childish band whose hor-
zou of years was far away and unthought Of 1t
is but step from thence to now, though broad
battle field lies between. Now am old these
grey hairs and crooked back came not without
sorrows and burdens. There is a sorrow in my
heart that must not be told, ana tears are IN my
eyes that / dare not explain. All lifes bright
hopes have been crushed | am without friend or
home or sympathy. Let me tell had good
old mother but her heart was eaten out by grief
and she is hid in the grave had beautiful
wife with heart faithful and true as ever guard
ed and cherished husbands love, but every fibre
was wrung and crushed, like dry reeds and rushes
where wild beasts tread had noble boy but
he was driven from the ruins of his homeland
oh, how my old heart yearns for him now How
every string quivers and constrcts round his
memory | wonder II ever he thinks of me We
had a sweet babe-but she went to the house OF
refuge, beyond the river. Oh, curses on the des.
olator OF our house, who made catacomb Of an
old mans heart Curse him with a curse for
which Mercy has no intercessor Follow him
down through the caverns of despair until the
avenger shall quail at the torturing aends that
have never had victim. Let the maledictlons
of mother and wife and child I'll the chambers Of
mercy with discord when interccssion Is made for
the destroyer of their peace.
But mol 1t was / God help me, how my
brain burns! How this poor old frame trembles
with the mighty engincry Of soul shrinking at
the trembling gates OF death Why, have been
dreamngl II isn't 10 It's my mother calling
the prodigal son my wife is beckoning me to
the chamber my child is singing herselfto sleep;
my brave boys footstep is at the door, and ]. and
lam young again! Ha ha ! 1t was-a-'
dream
SHASTA, Feb, 1853.