The weekly Shasta courier., 1873-09-20
Three Bottles Of Claret.

three DOltleS OF CihreL.
The major sat looking into the fire; for
though it was August, we had bright wood
in fires the evenings, as we often do at the
Profile House. He looked very steadily at
the Goals on the hearth, shivered once as if
he were cold bolted two glasses of claret in
quick succession, and waited, confident
that should hear his story at last. Soon
he began to talk.
Draw your chair close up. Light anoth-
er pipe, and fill your glass. 1t is a cold
night. My old bones shudder when hear
the wind wall over the house and through
the trees. Capital caret, that John, come
in here. Open another bottle of claret,
John. What, not another Certainly, man
must have it. This only the second and
MIR. - has drank half, of course Not
drink any You don't mean to say that
he has been drinking nothing all the bless
ed evening? Efendi, l thought you knew
my rules better than that. But you always
would have your own way.
"One more bottle John-but one. 1t
shall be the last and, John, get some Mar
aschino-one of the thick, black bottles
with the small necks, and open it. But
you know how old fellow, and Just do your
best to make us comfortable.
How the wind howls Ny boy, I am
seventy three years old, and seven days over
My birthday was week ago to-day.
An old bachelor Yea, verify. One
of the oldest kind. But what is age?
What is the paltry sum of seventy years
Do you think am any older in my soul
than was half a century ago? Do you
think, because my blood flows slower, that
my mind thinks more slowly, my feelings
spring up less freely, my hopes are less
buoyant, less cheerful, if they look forward
only weeks instead of years 1 tell you,
boy, that seventy years are day in the
sweep OF memory; and once young forever
young is the motto of an immortal soul |
know l am what men call old l know my
cheeks are wrinkled like parchment, and my
lips are thin, and my hair gray even to silver
But in my soul, feel that am young, and
shall be young till the earthly ceases and
the unearthly and eternal begins.
a have not grown one day older than I
a day since then. All my life long since
that has been one day-one short day no
night, no rest, no succession of hours, events,
or thoughts has marked any advance.
g / have been living forty years by the
light OF one memory-by the side of one
grave.
John, set the bottle down on the hearth
You may go. You need not sit up for me.
We will see each other to bed TO- night. Go,
old fellow, and sleep soundly.
She was the purest angel that flesh ever
imprisoned, the most beautiful child of Eve.
can see her now. Her eyes raying the
light of heaven-her brow white, calm, and
holy-her lips wreathed with the blessing
oi her smile. She was as graceful as a form
seen in dreams, and she moved through the
scenes around her as you have seen the an
gellc visitors OF your sumber move through
crowded assemblies, without effort, appar-
emily with some superhuman aid.
She was fitted to adorn the splendid
house in which she was born and grew to
womanhood. 1t was grand old place.
built in the midst of a growth of oaks that
might have been there when Columbus dis
covered America, aud seemed likely to
stand century longer. They are standing
yet, and the wind tonight makes a wild
lament through their branches.
Il recall the scenery of the familiar spot
There was a stream of water that dashed
down the rocks hundred yards from the
house, and which kept always full an acre
of pond, over which hung willows and ma
pies and other trees, while on the surface
the white blossom of the lotus nodded lazi-
ly on the ripples with Egyptian sleepine
and languor
The old house was built of dark stone
and had massive appearance, not relieved
by the sombre shade in which it stood
The sunshine seldom penetrated to the
ground IN the summer months, except in one
spot, just in front of the library windows,
where it used to lie and sleep in the grass,
as if it loved the old place. And if sun
shine loved it, why should not ]?
General Lewis was one of the pleasant,
old-fashioned men, now quite gone out of
memory, as well as out of existence. He
loved his horses, his dogs, his house, his
punch. He loved his nephew Tom, uncouth,
rough cub that he was; but above horses,
dogs, house, or all together, be loved his
daughter Sarah, and | loved her too.
Yes. you may look at me as you will,
loved Sarah Lewis; and. by all the gods, 1
love her now as loved her then and as l
shall love her if meet her again.
Call it folly, call it boyish, call it an old
mans whim, au old mans second childhood,
l care not by what name you call it it is
enough that tonight the Image of thas
young girl stands before me splendidly beau
tiful in all the holiness of her young glad
lite, and could bow down on my knees
and worship her now again.
"Why did say again? For forty years
] have not ceased to worship her. Ii |
kneel to pray in the morning, she passes
between me aud God. would read the
prayers at evening twilight, she looks up
at me from the page. If worship on a
Sabbath morning in the church. she looks
down on me from some unfathomable dis
tance, some unapproachable height, and
pray to her as if she were my hope, my
heaven.
Sometimes in the winter nights feel a
coldness over me- and icy fingers are feeling
about my heart, as if to grasp and still
IL | lie calmly. quietly, and | think