The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-05-19
The Feeling OF Growing Old.

THERE is mystery in the feeling of
growing oil Try as we may, we cannot
quite define the strange sensibility that
slowly crceps over the heart like distant
forerunner of the last icy coldness. "Do
you f.el your age?' we ask some Octoge-
Marian, making our self solicitude in a
pathetic ETY. le IF politeness But the an
swer seldom throws any light on the Won
der We are vainly trying to master Then
We ence3Vor to probe cur OWN emotions,
and here, too, we are batfled. Why should
Christmas come round so soon? WHY
should years crowd so fast on each other?
And even space-familIar space-why
should 1t contract itself so marvelously?
The old farm, the encircling hills, the
remote mountain tops, the very heavens
none are as large as they once were,
and yet for u all no reason
The first shock OF surprise with which
advancing lite announces itself is very
definite experience. It is a deep cut notch,
| and the bark of liie's tree never grows
over it. and then sets in the sophistry
OF devices, If all dextrous conceits,s Of
| pertinacious logic, to persuade ourselves
That we are not quite so old as the calen-
Oar testii1es. spice OF fOolery gives q
flavor To the effort. Animal spirits are
zralously encouraged, young ways put on,
fashionable attire assumed. light manners
cultivated, boys and girls patronized, small
pllnt reslsed, big type eschewed, extra
/ lghis refused. so as To disguise the fatal
| symptoms. But grandchlld comes, then
another, and yet another, and SO the sharp
| reality moves Gn US apace, the thin
yene.ring rabs eli, and the conclusion is
/ plumply met that We are getting old
And there is "a touch of pathos in it, some
thing that WHITES one to ones self, some
thing that emptles the memory very sud
denly into present Consciousness, some
thing that aInazes us by the immense con
tents OF the small word Life.
Not that the struggle is all over The
Resistance 10 the thought Of age is not
ended, i; is only intermItted and back il
comes on fine bracing days, on fcstal oc-
caslOns, and when enterprises of pith and
moment challenge our pluck If we
Chance with elderly individuals, men that
are very TAT, the weakness gets uppermost
again, and asserts itself with charming
buoyancv, vers ing on little deceit But
at last the true nature begins to recover its
lost ground. The gathering Of the har-
vest is at hand; soon the beautiful fruits
are ours; and then appear, one by one,
! the sweet com peusations for what has
been taken away from US. Slowly, too, a
new insight Is granted to our inward be.
ing, and this touches the heart with strange
tenderness. deep quietness peryades
us. We do not need our malignant pas
sioDs to quicken our intellects, for we can
be strong without anger, firm without OBJ
stlnacy, decided without dogmatism, and
earnest without fanatIcism- If our senses
have decayed have not our souls gained
thereby? The outer world has narrow
ed; how small is its horizon, and how few
friends stand in its fading light! 1t is all
| very sad, but the world within has gIori-
ously enlarged; its horizon has widened
into shining space, and its zenith is far
higher, and It's lofty sky burns with serener
1ustre.