The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1859-02-17
g Beautiful Gssag.
THE DEPARTED YEAR.
DY HENRY WARD BEEcuER.
"wo spend our days as tale ,but Is tor,

graphs Of a characteristic article from
the pen of Henry Ward Boochor.-
They are pleasant reading just now:
* \ * Aud thus, saith the Psalm.
ist, we spend our daysl As a tale ha.
IS toldi Years, with oil their vast vari.
ETY. Of incident, are remembered vague
ly-they are thin and Dreamy The
present glows, and even burns with in
teusity. But it is quenched when a few
days are past Days come in with
form, and sound, and motion, like the
coming in ofcrested waves. Like them,
they break upon the shore Of the pres.
ent; they cover it with a million of ev-
onescent gems; they dissolve and flow
odt in undertow, and are lost again in
the black depths-while new days, like
new waves, foam, sparkle and break as
did they.
One by one come to us days and years.
Coming, they have individuality! But
receding from us, they lose all separate
ness, and the past is one undistinguish-
able whole.
Who can analyze and separate the
years of his childhood? From birth till
one is four or fvo, the unripo brain re-
ceives few impressions that last. 1t is
all blank. As in printed book, at ei-
ther end, are bound up many blank
leaves, without print or writing on them,
so is human life, at either end, begun
and ended with blank years, preserving
no record--leaying no mark
But then come the youthful davs--
full Of romp, of hunger, of growth, Of
cxhilerationl How do they
seem to you now? Are they separable?
Can you thread them, and paint them
by memory? Only one or two things
peculiarly significant remain. The
days are huddled together The very
years are heaped in a mass; and you
think back upon twenty years as if they
were but hand breath!
tits as with a landscape to a traveller.
Having journeyed all day, at evening
reached some high hill, he sits down to
trace his path. The grass at his feet is
plain enough, and the ants that run ex-
press up and down every stalk have
brisk distinctncss. The near bushes
and the trees are so plain, that the
Ooughs and separate leaves stand out in
their individual forms. But, as the
view rocedes gradually, he loses all
these; and a little farther off, leaves .
lie upon leaves, grass is matted upon
grass, and is no longer form, but only
color, Yet farther and trees begin to
ade; trees stand upon trees, and at
ength whole forests are to the eye but
aint clouds, with not one distinct line,
md hills are rubbed out, and all the in
qualities of the way, which the com
foot felt in travelling, the eye
10 longer discerns, and only here and
here a single peak or mountain remains
lear and individual against the all
sky
Thus is it in life. Our nearer hours
eport themselves; a little farther, and
lays only not hours, are discerned;
hen days lapse, and weeks or months
re like long aerial distances, in one
inc, whose continuity is measured by
10 prominent object At length, wears
My can be seen, and not even these f.
ally. For, as sailors leaving the har-
,or, carry with them for long time the
light Of shore, but sailing still, lose
rst the low water lines, but cling by
ho eye to the higher masses, which in
ime, in the ever-saiing, fade and sink.
eaying nothing but some hight lifted
ar up like Teneriffe, which, after the
light is passed, is all gone, hidden by
he bend of the earth's surfuoe--so,
ven high-topped years at length are
hut down from our memory by tho
end Of the vast cycles of Time.
Come, go back with me.
Who arJ the members of your faith
rs family Besides your brothers and ,
sters, who dwelt there? Who visi !
I'd? Who came and went? Who were
le neighbors? These were vivid re-
ities to you when a child. What are
icy now? Mere marks As a land
,apo artist paints in the foreground
cures with limbs and features clear
ut in the far off distance, when he
ould paint a figure, takes his brush Z
Id spots down a mere dash--a form !
IS oolor-mark, so to us are the living !
lings of the noighborhood, Some, to !
, sure, stand up and remain; but a !
illion are forgotten where one re- t
aims, j
Who went with you to tho village Il
hool? Call tho ROLL Who were tho a
ccessive toachers-Popes of the ferule! s
Who were the girls? Who the bows?
hen, when the uproarious school t
oke forth in tumult at dismissal, if I
ID asked you, you could have given g
cry name. Nol0 call them up! Who Il
{ by you on the right? who on the
#? Who were in the first class?
lo in the second? These were impor- o
ut things then. Who was whipped "
ID who was never once struck "
lese, to yoU, were then moro impor- ii
Mt than the roar Of European revolu, o
IN, the burning of Moscow, the battle W
Waterloo; but what do you remem- 81
r of them? Some memories are more Ii
laoious than others. A few will re- {,
oduce much; more, some; most, but g
tie, if anyl
How much can you recall from the Al
urch? who won't with you? who sat K
out your who were the old menu who it
re in their primer and who, like ol