The weekly North-Carolina standard. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 186?-1869, 1868-05-20
from the Cincinnati Enquirer. ]
GROWING OLD.

We peruSed an article In one our eX-
changes the other day, under the above
caption, in which the writer lamented
the inevitable decree that sets up
the milestones of the years behind, and
brings us near to the silent close of
our Journey. To us the thought sug-
gested different train of reflections
We do not feel that it is sad thing to
grow old.
As we 60 forward and meet the
years, each is messenger that tells us
a pleasant story of the land to which
we have taken up our pilgrimage, and
though we may not lay hands upon
them and detain them, yet they inn
bue us with happy thoughts and
pleasant memories, that elothe each
coming messenger in halo-like gar
ment of smiles and beauty. The jour
ney of life is but short, but it is long
enough to teach us the idleness and lit
tleness of things earthly, and that our
earthly tabernaa lie is far too narrow to
hold in thrall that invisible fire of i'm
mortality that pulses through our being,
or even permit it to shine forth in that
brilliancy that it SO much longs for
Life is beautiful, but it is only beau
tiful as panorama that moves on to
the great tinal climax, when the cur
tains OF eternity are drawn, and the
marvellous beauty of the universe opens
with its endless vistas of glory upon
our enlarged sight and the dreams of
the past are paled from view in the
blaze of the never ending Present. The
toy, the sword and the toy make up
the sum of our existence, for the old
and the young are nearest heaven
Prattling childhood and silver age
walk hand in hand, and laugh at the
gamboling lambs and make pretty
speeches to the bright birds and butter
flies, for the vail Of Time is but a mist
to the right and to the left of them, and
Love and Innocence stand like cherubs
by the cradle and the grave.
1t is only then we are among the tro-
pical clouds of the Middle Passage Of
life that we utterly forget the emblems
of Innocence and turn the edge of the
sword against the unwarring armies of
Beauty. And this we do out of very
blindness, for when we pass the noun
tain summit and 60 down the gentle
plain toward the gold and amethyst
pillars of the sunset, we cast the sword
behind US and reach forth for the flow.
ers that wave and beckon us onward.
There is nothing more touching and
beautiful than age. The bent form, the
feeble, tottering step, the dimmed eye
and the child like confidence of the
aged speak to every heart, not dead to
every human emotion, with wonder
full power and pathos. We do not envy
the feelings of that person who can say
slight word to or of the aged of every
condition in life, and whose strong hand
is not held out to them at every rough
corner and every narrow crossing. Not
many days since we saw beautiful
girl, having almost the form and SEM
blance of an angel, rudely jo>tlea poor,
decrepid old dame on the sidewalk, and
tell her in tones of petulance to keep
out of her way. That girls bright
eyes will yet be dim and lusterless, and
her far round shoulders bent with the
weight of years and the burdens of life,
and if her life's sunset is cold and OBJ.
scured with clouds, it will because she
herself in the bloom of youth, poisoned
the chalice with a suicidal hand. Of all
to be loved and cherished, and kindly
cared for, the aged are first deserving,
for they have borne their share of the
burdens, and their patient old eyes are
only waiting to see the gates lifted up,
when they will be closed in an estacy
of love. We grow old, but only that
we may rehabilitate ourselves with the
garments of an endless youth.