Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1869-07-20

The Ruins of Time.

Ti1lSrin his onward course is ever fashioning
decay. ever moulding desolation. When we
look about us, we receive such repeated intima-
lions OF the universal decay going on in the nat
ural world, that We can almost imagine we hear
the tramp of Time, and in fancy catch the
sound of universal wasting
The mountain, towering emblem OF strength
and chaEgelessness, which has for centuries
withstood the buffetlngs of storms and tenn
pests is slowly Wondering away, ;and filling the
valley at it's base, which has been swept by a
myriad of gales The rocks are crumbling to
the dust, and the trees sink in ruins. All ma
ture indeed grows old and dies.
The finest works of man, too are gradually
giving away, whether the peasants hovel or
the monarch's palace; they all yield to Times
destructive hand. The lofty palace, that once
reared its massive proportions in matchless
splendor, already bears evidence of decay The
halls which once were crowded with all that art
and science could procure, have lost their gran
deur. Their works Of art have vanished from
sight The ivy cllngs in mournful green to the
Wondering tower, the moss in gloomy decay
nantes the shattered roof One by one the
strong pillars bow from age beneath their bur-
dens, till at length hall and court, corridor and
turret, lie in indiscriminate ruins
La thus wandering among the ruins of the
past, how strongly are we impressed with the
mutabllity of human grandeur; with the lncoaz
stancy Of earthly affairs Mighty nations have
arisen, they have held sway through many years,
rising in power and magnifcence, and eicltlng
the admiration of the world They hourished,
but were doomed to decay. Thebes and Car
thage, are now no more. The pyramids of
Egypt, the ruins Of Thebes, are but the me-
mentoes of the power and grandeur of races
that have long since become extinct. Troy,
lofty Troy, which neither the combined forces
of the Greeks nor thousand vessels could sub
due, has fallen from her pinnacle of fame, and
her streets are silent and desolate. Greece, once
the light Of the world, and Rome, once the ter
ror Of all nations have lost their lustre and
power Time has dimmed their ancient glory.
The days of their splendor are remembered on
y in song
ultimately perish. Every breeze that signs in
the passing air watts to US the gloomy tidings
of decay, and sings with the poet
sway,
There breathes but one record-passing away"
Every billow that disturbs the tranquil deep
rolls on the same mournful tale, which it will
cease to tell only when it shall break noiselessly
on the distant shores of Eternity
Rothschild, who was supposed to be the rich
est man in the world, was once asked this SIM
pie question, Are you happy?" Happy he
answered, when just as you are gong to din
ner you have letter placed in your hand say
ing, if you don't lend me five hundred pounds
| will blow your brains out!' Happy, when
you have to sleep with pistols under your pill
low No, indeed, am not happy" Astor,
another rich man. was asked the same question.
"Ah" he answered, Il must leave it all when
| die. 1t won't put off sickness; it won't buy
off sorrow it won't put off death" And SO it
was plain to see that he was not happy. But |
went to see poor, lame and aged woman, who
lived in one small room, and earned a part of
her scanty living; for the rest she had to de-
pend on the kindness of others. | asked her
this same question, Lydia, are you happy ?"
"Happy'' she answered with beaming face,
Il am just as full as [ can be. ! do not believe
I could hold another drop of JOY" But
why?" | asked ''you are sick and alone, and
have almost nothing to live upon: But have
you never read, +" said she, pointing to the BIZ
BILE, "all things are yours, and ye are Christ S
and Christ is Gods? And again, ASK and
receive, that your joy may be full p