Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1873-02-22
Growing Old.

The departure of youth manifests it.
self as unmistakably in the habitudes of
the mind as in the gray hair and failing
strength. In youth, we live in the fu-
ture. Wesee visions and dream dreams.
We build castles of enchantment, which
we furnish and people with vivid i'm
agination. We picture the fairest bride,
the fastest friends, and the mostfowery
of pathways. Alas ! how does expert
ence disappoint us, and show us the
vanity of human wishes, as we find one
idol after another rudely shattered or
wisely withheld Our thoughts arenow
mainly in the past, and we are buster
with memories than with hopes. We
dream not so much of conquests to be
achieved as of the golden opportunities
now passed beyond recall, of the rich
treasures of time and talents we have
wasted. We think less of our merry
companions and the favorable impress
sions we make than we do of the con-
temporaries who are one after the other
passing away from us less of our con-
quests in love, now that smiles are
scarcer than kisses were then, than of
some whom we have sighted in that
olden time. Have we ever noticed, in
forming one of an assembly of people
in our youth, how every one seemed
mature compared with ourselves? Now,
when we look around us, how greatly
do the young seem to preponderate
When we remember the rose-tint of
romance with which the freshness and
vividness of every new impression tinged
our early days, and now find that exis-
tence is no longer dream, buta reality,
and that there is so little to look for
ward to, is it any wonder that we cast a
lingering look behind? The character
of our life is fixed, and our occupations
and associations promise to be in the
future very much what they are now.
Do we notice how much more rapidly
each succeeding year seems to pass
away? Cannot we remember how, in
our childhood, the term of year ap-
peared interminable, and we thought we
could compress into that great space
almost any amount of work and play :?
But as we get older, how is it that, with
all our industry, time seems too short
for the work we take in hand? We be-
come SO engrossed, that holy-days and
holidays are alike invaded and after
all is done, how much is left unfinished,
how many schemes remain untried ?
"It is the solemn thought connected
with middle life" says the late eloquent
T. W. Robertson, "that life's last bust
ness is begun in earnest ; and it is then,
midway between the cradle and the
grave, that a man begins to marvel that
he let the days of youth go by so half
enjoyed. 1t is the pensive autumn feel
ing, it is the sensation of half sadness
that we experience when the longest
day of the year is past, and every day
that follows is shorter, and the light
fainter, and the feebler shadows tell
that nature is fastening with gigantic
footsteps to her wintry grave. So does
man look back upon his youth. When
the first gray hairs become visible, when
the unwelcome truth fastens itself upon
the mind that man is no longer going
up hill, but down, and that the sun is
always westering, he looks back on
things behind. When we were children,
we thought as children. But now there
lies before us manhood, with its earnest
work, and then old age, and then the
grave, and thenEhome. There is a sec
ond youth for man, better and holier
than his first, if he will look on, and
not back. "-TjnSley's Magazine.