Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1870-05-18
DEAL GENTLY wrrn TnE LITTLE ONES
The Feeling of Growing Old.

There is a mystery in the feeling Of grow
ing old. Try as We may, we can not quite
define the strange sensibiity that slowly
creeps over the heart like distant forcrun-
ner Of the last icy coldness DO you feel
your age ?" we ask Of some oclogenarian,
making our soll-soIicitudo in pathetic STYLE
Of politeness But tho answer seldom throws
any light on the wonder we are yainly striy-
ing to master Then we endeavor to probe
our own emotions and here, too, we ore baf
fed Why should Christmas come round SO
soon2 Why should years crowd 30 fast on
each otheri And even space, familiar space,
why should it contract itself so marvelously2
The old farm, the oncircling hills, the remote
mountain-tops, the very heavens, none are as
large as they once were, and yet for it all no
reason
The first shock Of surprise with which adj
vancing life announces itself is very deGn-
ite experience Il is a deep-cut notch, and
the bark Of life's tree never grows over it.
And then sets in the sophistry Of devices Of
all dextrous conceits, Of pertnacious logic, to
persuade ourselves that we are not quite so
old as the calendar testifos A spice Of fool
cry gives flavor to the effort Animal spr-
its are zealously encouraged, young ways put
on, fashionable attire assumed, light manners
cultivated, boys and girls patronzed, small
print insisted, big type eschewed, extra lights
refused, so as to disguise the fatal symptoms
But a grandchid comes, then another, aud
yet another and so the sharp reality moves
on Us apace, the thin yeneerng rubs of, and
the conclusion is plumply met that we are
getting old. And there is a touch of path1.
in it, something that WHITES one to ones self
something that empties the memory very sud.
denly into present consciousness, something
that amazes US by the immense contents Of
the small word Life
Not that the struggle is all over The re-
sistance to the thought Of age is not ended, it
is only intermitted and back it comes on fine
bracing days, on festal occasions, and when
enterprises Of pith and moment challenge our
pluck. five chance with elderly individuals,
men that are very bald women that are very
fat, the weakness gets uppermost again, and
asserts itself with charming buoyancy, verg-
ing on a little deceit. But at last the true
nature begins to recover its lost ground. The
gathering time Of the harvest is at hand
soon the beautiful fruits are ours aud then
appear one by one the sweet compensations
for what has been taken away from Us. Slowly,
too, new insi ght is granted to our inward
being, and this touches the heart with strange
tenderness. A deep quietness pervades Us.
We do not need our malignant passions to
quicken our inteleots, for we can be strong
without anger, firm without obstinacy, decided
without dogmatism and earnest without ia
If our senses have decayed, has
not the soul gained thereby2 The outer
world has narrowed; how small is its hori-
zon, and how few friends stand in its fading
light 1t is all very sad, but the world within
has gloriously enlarged its horizon has wild.
ened into a shining space, and its zenith is far
higher, and its lofty sky burns with serene
lustre.