Clearfield Republican. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1851-1937, 1868-08-13
Gr0tCimg Old.


our exchanges the other day under
the above caption, in which the wri-
ter larnented the inevitable decree
that sets upon the milestone of the
years behind us, and brings us nearer
to the silent close of our Journey. To
us the thought suggested a differ
ent train Of reflection. We do not
feel that it is sad thing to grow old.
As we 90 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
imbue us with very happy thoughts
and pleasant memories, and clothe
each coming messenger in halo-like
garment of smiles and beauty. The
journey of life is but short, but it is
long enough to teach us the idleness
and littleness Of things earthly, and
that our earthly tabernacle is far too
narrow to hold in thrall that invisi-
bic fire Of Immortality 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 il is only beau
tiful as panorama that moves on to
the great and final climax, when the
curtains of eternity are drawn, and
the marvellous beauty of the uni.
verse opens with its endless vistas of
glory upon our enlarged sight, and
then dreams of the past are yelled
from view in place of the never end.
ing present. The boy, the sword,
and the toy make up the sum of our
existence, for the young and the old
are nearest heaven. Prattling child.
hood and silver age walk hand in
hand, and laugh at the gamboling
lambs and make pretty speeches to
the bright butterflies, for the value of
Time is but q mist to the right and
to the left of them, and love and limo.
cence stand like cherubs by the era
die of the grave.
1t is only when we are among the
tropical clouds of the middle passage
of life that We utterly forget the en-.
blems 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 mountain summit and 20 down
the gentle plain toward The gold and
amethyst pillars of the sunset, we cast
the sword behind us and reach forth
for the flowers that wave and beckon
us onward.
There smoothing more touching and
beautiful than age. The bent form.
the feeble, tottering step, the diamond
eye, and the childlike confidence of
the aged speak 10 every heart, not
dead to every human emotion, with
wonderful power and pathos We do
not envy the feelings of that person
who can say sighting word to or
OF the aged Of every condition of life.
and whose strong hand is not held
out 10 them at every rough corner
and every narrow crossing. Not ma.
ny days since we saw bright and
beautiful girl, having almost the form
and semblance of an angel, rudely
Jostle a poor, decrcpid old dame on
the sidewalk, and tell her in tones of
petulenee to keep out Of her way.
The girls bright eyes will yet be dim
and lusterless, and her fair round
shoulders bent with the weight of
years and the burdens of life, and if
her life's sunset is cold and obscured
with clouds, it will be because she
herself, in the bloom of youth, poison.
ed the chalice with suicidal hand.
OF all to be loved and cherished. and
kindly cared for, the aged are first de.
serving, for they have borne their
share of the burdens, and their patient
eyes are only waiting to see the gates
iiited up when they will be closed in
an ectasy of love. We grow old
but only that we may rehabilitate our.
selves with the garments of an end
less youth.