Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1875-01-08

1unznnnRzzrxwsnnmzxwaaz
I have spent my entire life. | have Wit
messed whole families emigrate and re-
turn. others rise, flourish and like the
Autumn leaves wither and fall away -
my sands of tune have nearly run, it is
Fall now--it will soon be Wintcr--and
Spring will come no more for me !! Oh,
how my soul floats back into the calm
sweetness Of those old days, as child
that smiles in its sleep ut an angels
visit |"
I" Sir" said I, "the carnestncss with
which you have spoken and the sad inn
port of your words have made profound
impression upon me as well as aroused my
curiosity. Tell me, implore you. who
you are !? something Of your life-some
thing Of lis memories p
" Memories memories = he muttcred,
q they bring me no peace. their haunting
voices are ever sounding in my cars like
the ccascless murmurings Of the waves"
"Sir," repeated. Z" if compliance
with my request would awaken or arouse
emotions that would harrow your old soul,
or the narration Of events in life of such
remarkable duration be tedious or un-
pleasant, tell me at least why have these
trembling limbs borne you so far from
bome.at so late an hour, and to this par
ticular place r
The old man arose from his seat as
twilight comes from the grave Of the dead
day and as a pale sweet nun telling her
beads to the night winds, continued Il
stood at your cradle. saw you as an
infant
Mewling and pnkinp in The nurses arms
And the whining sclool-hoy, with bis satchel,
And shining morning face creeping like snail
Unwillinely 10 school And then the lover,
Signing like furnace with woful ballad
| watched you develop into rounded and
glorious manhood, and well do remem-
Der the morning in which you cut loose
the mooring that bound you to the old
homestead How far out into the world
the frail compass Of hope may have d.
iected your footsteps, | have no knowl-
edge---but see that time has dealt kind
" and gently with you the rough winds
of winter that have played with your
hair have left no signals of distress, nor
has the lummer's sun dimn 9 | the rosy
hue that mantled your check in youth |
know that you have had many glimpscs
of prosperity, you have drank deep from
the cup Of pleasure. you have ridden up
on the bubble Of reputation, you have
bowed in blind alteration at the footstool Of
popular applause and been the slave Of
popular sentiment-Dnt upon the white
and whirlng stream lave you been Gid
ing, but tile reflection Of the little green
branch with its wicker-cup" was too deep
/ ly fastened to your heart. aud now, as II
child that has played all the day long and
grown weary Of its toys, you hive come
home to rest as the shades of evening
deepen.
. You ask me why these trembling
limbs have borne me TO this place? will
tell you, there il soft little corner in
every mans heart where he keeps con-
cealed the sweet flowers he has gathered
through life and the image of those
whom he has loved All Of my cotem-
poraries have gone alone, in quiet hours
| delight to frequent orr accustomed
walks occasionally cross their foot
prints and fancy | can hear their voices
creeping on me like the murmurs Of lost
music When | saw you resting under
the shade Of this old tree, where so often
your father and myself have sat for hours,
told our cares and rcckoned Of the future,
| directed my steps hitler from no feel
ing Of curiosity. for knew you well, my
boy | thought | would approach and
ask If there was no language in these
lcrumbling and tattered landmarks, ii
there was no silent monitor to tell you Of
the coming hour Of decay, aud further,
to leave with you this question, which,
when | am gone, in your solitude you
can take into consideration If you so de-
sire but, mark me, the time will como
whenyou mnstfully realize its import
What will your past life have been worth
! iii swcetens not your last moments or in
other words, what pleasure will ripe old
age afford unless il be mellowed with the
reflection that your life has been good,
useful and yirtuousY'
Slowly be moved away. watched
I him until he disappeared in the dim dis
tance--as had many times the cloud of
incense raise from the sacred altar and lose
itself in the arcbed roof The morning
sunlight Of the dying year poured through
my window and aroused me from my
slumber--I had been dreaming
ing Of my childhood home
REyERrE.
alexandria, Va, Dec. 31a.