The New Orleans crescent. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1866-1869, 1869-01-10
WHAT CHRISTMAS is As WE GROW OLDER.

is one of the tenderest and most pathetic fanciel
Dickens as ever given forth
Time was. with most of MS, when Christina!
day, encircling all our limited world like magic
ring, left nothing out for to miss or seek bound
together all our home and enjoyments, affection.
and hopes grouped everything and every one
around the Christmas fire; and made the picture
shining in our bright young eyes complete.
Time came, perhaps, all too soon when our
thoughts overleaped that narrow boundary
when there was some one very dear we thought
then, very beautiful and absolutely perfectly want.
ing TO the fullness of our happiness; when we
were wanting too Tor we thought so, which did
Just as well) at the Christmas hearth by which
that some one sat and when we intertwined with
every wreath the garland Of our life that some
ones name.
That was the time for the bright visionary
Christmases which have long arisen from US to
show family, after summer rain, in the palest
edges Of the rainbow. That was the time for the
beautiful enjoyment of the things that were to be,
and never were, and yet the things that were IS
real in our resolute hope that ii would be hard to
say, now. that realities achieved since have been
stronger.
What Did that Christmas never really come
when We and the priceless pearl who was our
young choice were received alter the happiest of
totally impossible marriages, by the two united
families previously at daggers drawn on our &C.
counts When brothers and sisters-in-lsw who had
always been rather cool to Us before our relation
ship was affected perfectly dotted on u.s. and when
tied incomes? Was that Christmas dinner never
really eaten, after which we arose, and generously
and eloquently rendered honor TO our late rival,
present In the company, and there exchanging
friendship and forgiveness, and founding an at
tschment not to be surpassed In Greek or Roman
story, which subssted until death! Has that same
rival long ceased to care for that same priceless
pearl, and marries for money aud becomes usur.
Gus Above all, do we really know now that we
should probably have been miserable il we had
won and worn the pearl, and that we are better
without her.
That Christmas when we had recently achieved
so much fame; when we had been carried in tri.
umphs somewhere, for doing something great and
good; when we had won an honored and ennobled
name, and arrived and were received at home in
shower OF tears OF joy; it is possible that that
Christmas has not come yet.
And is our life here, at the best 80 constituted
that, pausng as we advance at such noticeable
mile stone in the track this great birth day we
look back on the things that never were as natu.
rally and full as gravey as on the things that have
been and still are If il be 60, and SO il seems 10
be must we come 10 the conclusion that life Is
little better than dream, and little worth the
love and strivings that we crowd into il?
No Far be such miscalled philosophy from
us, dear reader, on Christmas day Nearer and
closer to our hearts be the Christmas spirit which
is the spirit Of active usefulness, perseverance,
cheerful discharge Of duty, kindness and forbear.
ance. IL is in the last virtues especially that we
are or should be, strengthened by the unsccom.
pnsned vlslons OF our youth for who shall say
that they are not our teachers to deal gently even
with the impalpable nothings of the earth.
therefore, as we grow older, let us be more
thankful that the circle of our Christmas associa
tions and Of the lesson that they bring expand.
Let us welcome every one of them, and summon
them to take their places by the Christmas
hearth.
Welcome old aspirations glittering creatures of
an ardent infancy, TO your places underneath the
holly. We know you, and have not outlived you
Jet. Welcome, old projects and old loves, how
ever heetng, to your hooks among the steadier
lights that burn around Us. Welcome, all that was
ever real to our hearts and for the earnestness
that made you real, thanks to Heaven. Do we
build no Christmas castles in the clouds now Let
our thoughts, futtering like butterflies among
lhese flowers Of children, bear witness.
Before this boy there stretches out q future
brighter than we ever looked on In our romantic
lime, but bright with honor and with truth.
Around this little head on which the sunny curls
Re hesped, the graces sport as prettily, as siry
as when there vss no scythe within the reach Of
Time to shear away the curls of our first love.
Upon another girls face near it-placider bat