Litchfield enquirer., 1860-10-04
5fIisecllolln.
THE THIRD BOWL.

Draw your chair close up. Put your feet on those skins. You will find them soft and warm. Light another pipe, and fill your glass, Philip. It is q bitter night. My old bones 4udder when hear the wind vail over the house and through the oak tree.-- Capital punch, that. John has knack at the article that have rarely seen cqualcd never surpassed. He is a prince of ser wants, is John, if he is black 1 have had him with me Eow--let me see, it must be thirty years, at icu>t-t is thrty-two years next Christmas neck, and Lave never quar- rc!cd with him, end he has never qnareed with me. rare history for master and man. think it is because we love each others weaknesses, and here he comes." John, another bowl of the punch, if you please What, not ano,Aer! Certainly, man must have it. This is only the sec ond and Philip has hrank huf, of course. Not drank any! You do not mean to say that you have been drinking nothing but that vile claret all this evening! Philip, you dog, thought yoa knew my house rules bettey than that. But you always would have your own way"
 Zone more bowl John-but one It shall be the last; and John, get the cid Mar aschino, one of the thick black bottles with the small neeks, and open it gently. But you know how, old fellow, and just do your best to make us comfortable"
 How the wind howls! Philip, my boy, 1 am seventy-three years old and seven days. My birthday was week ago to- day"
 "An old bachelorl Yea, verify. One of the oldest kind. But what is age? What is the paltry sum of seventy years? Doyou think am any older in my soul than l was half century ago? Do you think, because my heart beats slower, that my mind thinks more slowly, my feelings springs up less free ly, my hopes are less buoyant, less cheerful, if they look forward only weeks instead of years? l tell you, boy, that seventy years are as day in the swoop of memory, and orcc young forever young, is the motto of an immortal soul. 1 know I am what men Call old, know my cheeks are wrinkled like ancient parchment, and my lips thin, and my head grey, even to silver But in my soul feel that am young, and shall be young till the earthly ceases, and the unearthy aud eternal begins.
 Il have not grown one year older than I was at thirty-two. never advanced day since then. All my life long since then has been one day-one short day; no night, no rest, no succession of hours, events, or thoughts has marked any advance.
 Philip, 1 have been living forty years by the light of one memory-by the side of one grave"
 ''John set the bowl down on the hearth. You may go. You need not sit up for me. Philip and will see each other to our rooms tonight, John. Go, my old fellow, and sleep soundly."
 "Phil, she was the purest angel that flesh ever imprisoned, the most beautiful child of Eve. l can see her now. Her eyes raying the light of heaven-her brow, white, calm and holy-her lips wreathed with the bles- sing of her smile. She was as graceful as a form seen in dreams, and she moved through the scenes around her as you have seen the angelic visitors of your slumber move through : crowded assemblies, without effort, appar. . ren.iy witn some superhuman aid.
 me chlid of wealth, she was fitted to aoorh tne splendid house in which she was porn ana grew to womanhood. It was q grand old place built in the midst of a growth of oaks that might have been there when l Columbus discovered America, and seemed likely to stand q century longer. They are standing yet, and the wind tonight makes , wild lament through the branches that sount
 mournfully above her grave.
 :" must pause to recall the scenery Q
 the old familiar spot. There was a strear
 of water that dashed down the rocks, a hur e dred yards from the house, and which a o ways kept full and fresh, an acre of pond
 over which hung willows, and naples, an
 other trees, while on the surface the whit blossom of the lotus noddes lay lazily on th nipples with Egyptian sleepineds and lal
 guor.