Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1857-1865, 1860-11-09

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Thurlow Weed Brown, of the Wiscoh-
sin Chief, cxcels most writers in picturing
the various phases Of life. Here is a spc-
cimen Of his painting:
Youth lives in the future; middle age
in the present; old age in the past. More
now than "years ago" we find ourself-
the writer manipulating the bow of
the craft, and at set of sun looking over
the wake and upon the shores fast becom
ing shadowy and dim. The scenery ahead
has lost much of the charm which made
the early voyage but chnnging dream of
beautiful romance. each shore rising in
view wondrously lovely in the morning
sunlight. Specks in the far-off blue, long
thought Of and eagerly looked for as ''Isles
of tho Blest," without clouds or storm, and
radiant with the light of happiness and
hope, proved to have many a rugged shore
and dangerous reef; stony ways up sharp
ascents; flowers with thorns craters with
blistering scoria; hidden enemies to pierce,
and storms to overwhelm. And the craft,
too, bears the rake of many a hidden rock
The sails are rent, and the tin'hers begin
to yield to the sea. In the cabin is garn-
cred many treasure, the bloom of loved
hopes between the leaves withered, yet fra
grant with memories an old arm chair
vacant, and little one, too, where the
first born sat--all are sacred, and shall 90
upon tho "other shore" with the wreck. -
There is no memory of sorrow which we
would wish to toss over TO Tighten our ship!
Many the stormy sea that has beat over
the bulwarks. and many friend has been
swept from the deck. Whether storm or
calm await us in the future, the pennon
shall 90 from the peak, and the old craft
enter the "shoreless sea" with figure head
to the wind
Talking, living in the past. The pill.
grimage of a lifetime, wearily and sorrow
fully trotlden at times. may stretch like a
desert, with here and there an oasis OF
bloom, between the two extremities- land
yet it may be trodden with foot-step flee.
ter than the lightning's wing.
This morning We took up the scythe for
an hour, and laid the herds grass and clo-
yer in a swath. The blade was rusty and
dull and we touched it with the "Quinue
baug" in the old.fashioned may. The
sharp click was drum beat---a ''roll call
to the army of shadows---and as if at a
sweep of the cnchanter's wand, they came
marching out of the mist, down the old
road, by the spring, and encamped, as oil
old, by the fragrant swaths All else ia
ded out, and as we carefully touched the
fingers to the edge at the point, we drop
ped the snath, lifted the hat, and wiped
the sweat from the brow with the hardened
palm, dreamiDg over the dreams that were
not all dreams.
Nearly forty years ago, back among the
hills of a township of the good old Empire
Commonwealth, was a homestead to whose
fallen chimney and grass grown hearth the
thoughts turn like pilgrims from day tc
day. Cold and damp under the luxuriant
weeds, lieth the stone whose fame kindled
to that Of the mothers eye as she sat and
sang the first cradle hymn, for the fame
died out ''long ago" and that fresh young
heart, CHEEKY with the hopes and dreams
Of that hour, is as cold and still as the old
hearth-stone under the grass of Summer
The nursery planted by the GRANDMA
TIER, when her hair was bleachcd and hei
hand tremulous with years, and yet bear.
ing fruit many an Autumn before she was
? garnered home, was just below the house
aud then the meadow. Back it all comes
asain the old butternuts aud elms wav,
Ing, its daisies blooming like drops of gold
its bobolinks singing, its thickets oil brlar.
aud chokebcrries, rank and shadowy, anc
the spring, stealing from undcr tho sward
ed iIm, and away through the overlooking
grass like thread OF silver. The thorn /.
snowy with blossoms, and the orchard ,auc
: the dog woods by the swamp. The NOW
ers are busy, and Us they stand at the cor
ner, the cleaning blades are wiped will
damp grass, and the same sounds on I'll,
steel, no moment ago, ring sharply out
The cocks" of hay stand like seutnes a
sundown, and the next day the cart an,
wagon-we used no horses aud wagon
then-gathcred the fragrant cropand drey
1t TO the barn. And ali tins panurams
with all its associations, fragrant aud beau
tIiul, comes OF one stroke OF the "Quinne
baug" on the scythe And We nigh
stand and dream on until sunset, but tn
horses would vote neigh to dream which
left them without their "baiting" vi clio
yer.
,, nT- There was frost in Houston, Texa:
! on the lItL ult.. heavier than was eve