Litchfield enquirer., 1860-06-14
Whole No. 1928.
For the Ltchfeld Enquirer. SHADOWS

SHADOWS.
 What Shadows we are, and what Shadova we pursue" ''AN "A"' AN'"'"'
 The Winters sun which had shona all day on the snow-clad earth, and made each sion. der ice-bound twig, and massive housb to glitter with it's wealth of gems had sunk to rest, behind the grand old hills and drawn around him the gorgeous curtains of his re. gal chamber.
 Twilight shed quiet calmness over nature and spread somber veil upon the pictured walls and alcoves of an ample parlor, in which were gathered a happy group. The flickering fre-light cast grim, fantastic ima- ges upon the ceiling and played fitfully upon the faces of parents and children. One lit. tie figure was fitting about, now climbing familarly upon his fathers knee and anon stealing kiss from mama's willing lips. Presently he approached the wall, and the quick eye of infancy spied there an image of himself, moving as he moved. For Q mo. ment he gazed in wonder at this, to him. in. applicable mystery. Soon the fist impules of fear was dispelled and he tempted the strange phantom with various childlike an. tics, his mirth increasing at each coy move. movement of the supposed fairy yet in vain he attempted to grasp this new wondsr.- From it no sound escaped, and when his cherry lips were pressed upon it they met only the cold hard wall. It could be knewn only by the eye. No scientific demonstra- tion of the phenomenon filled his little mind, butt. astonishment and admiration shone In every feature.
 Now he lies slumbering on his pillow, the weary, dimpled limbs resting from their gam bols. Perhaps even now the restless mind is dreaming of the newly discovered vision, but long time will elapse before he knows It was only q sAadoao om ths acaH.
 Years have borne that child on to youth, we see him there contendiDg with his brilliant and talented companions for the houors which will distinguish him as scholar. If the eager active mind does not seize at glance the authors meaning, the night is speut in indefatigable efforts to grasp and analize the complicated theme.
 Ambition is his ruling deity. His days are gorgeous visions of coming fame, his night dreams are clad with glory. At last the closing scene arrives, as first in his class, he stands upon the rostram and receives with beating heart and sparkling eye, the ace'amations of praise and congratulation, He leaves these cloisters, where the goddess of Wisdom has been so often lured with the laurel wreath upon his young brow, rush. ing with light and hopeful step, into the rapks of men, there again to compete for earth's bright, flseting palm
 Again we catch sight of him in the eager march of Time. His form more manly, his step more firm, his eagle eye seeking to pierce the mystic veil which hides futurity and read there what his aspiring soul thirsts for, even more than tue burning deserts of Arabia, for tue summer rain.
 By universal consent, positions of trust arc conferred upon him, he is greeted and applaud ed as Me man of his age, one whom history's brightest page will be proud to chronicle for the eye of future generations.
 Step by step, he ascends fame's ladder, 'till grasping tue topmost round, he looks back exultantly and waves proud ascent to the bold shouts and clarion notes of vic tory, that are waited to his listening ear by every wind that blows His hearts desire has been achieved, still he is 10th to quit the giddy halls that echo back his praise. Will he not pause moment and ask himself, !" What is this glory he has so long cravsd, and which now glows around him ?"-hark- from his inmost soul comes an answer
 "-a frncied, in others breath,
 A thing beyond us sv'n before our death,
 All that we feel of it begins and ends
 In the small circle of our foes or friends;
 To all beside, 'ts but an empty shade."
 Pope
 Once more in the shadowy maze of his ex- istence, lighted by the glow-worm spark of earthly adulation, we meet for the last time, our hero. The hoar-frosts of many winters have fallen upon his head, his eye has lost the rich lusture of earlier years his voice mingles no longer with those of warriors and statesmen, but there is a calmer, holier light upon his face than was seen there in the days of his pomp and pride.
 Brought by the restless foot of Time, to the verge of the grave, and in the twilight of his days reviewing life's ftful dream, he realizes for the first time that he is but shadoa0 and has been pursuing visions as unsubstautial and heeting as himself. From the dancing figure which enchained his in- fantile fancy, to manhood's enthusiastic IIlutliIn, utt iS CunEy. Ahc Huo Uo0" !" Suo cession of shadows, either grim, ghastly spectres, thrilling him with horror, or vain, fanciful delusions which never satisfied, but alured him farther from what should have been the grand object of his existence.- These illusions cannot support the dropping frame, or impart life to the worn and aching body. Stretched upon his dying bed, he listens wistfulIy for the futter of angel wings, and the low sweet sounds of heavenly music, revcrberating along the streets of the csles. tial city. Amid the mists that gather round the entrance of the tomb, he has that per feet trust which no shadow can obscure, no reality dispel, to sustain and sooth while the silver-cord is loosed, the golden bowl is broken.
 "Only waiting till the shadows
 Are little longer grown;
 Only waiting till the glimmer
 Of the days last beam is fown
 Till the night of earth is faded
 From this heart once full of day;
 Till the stars of heaven are breaking
 Through the twilight soft and grey Then from out the gathered darkness.
 Holy, deathless stars shall rise, By whose light his soul shall gladly
 Tread it's pathway to the skies"