The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1878-07-04

great painting into fairy land. q tho case
has been with W, when oil the lovely hues
and aerial distances seemed to be portions
Of the legion to which we travelled. and
into which the coming years were surely
to bring US; no single dash of color in
the sky fills us with unspeakable DELIGHT
and longing after the unknown; we do
not lean out into the star-lit nights with
conscious companionship of the spirits Of
tie stars and the deeps and the dark-we
are little afraid of the damps and the
draughts and rheumatisms; we remember
all these things; we do not feel them
afresh. Nor do the same books please lis.
We ind, that once we read and re-read
the poems that We ruined with our pencil.
marks and under. scoring have ceased to
charm, and tho volumes that in the DAYS
OF those pencil-marks we would have
scorned, now attract US at first sight; the
bread-and- butter novel moves us to de-
rision we feel sufficient acquaintance with
life and its passions and subtle motives
and secret springs to read the books OF
darker dealings. Dancing does not seem
to Us, either, the pleasantest way in the
world in which tC spend time.
We do not think youth of twenty.
one or twenty-five the ideal being 70.
whom the heavens and earth were ere.
ated. Possibly We prefer lamp-light and
people to all the moonlight and solitude
in the world. What then2 It seems
that middle age has its pleasures, which it
would not exchange for those of youth
why will we persist in looking back 90
regretfully on those of youth, which il
seems We would no longer enioy if We
had theme If we do not wish to dance,
why do We envy those who do? If a
dried date does not taste to US rich
with all the spicy favors of unknown
lands, but like commonplace sweet
meat, compensation comes in the fact
that we have no craving for the date
And yet it seems to be insufficient com
pensation: We wish we had that craving,
remembering the pleasuse Of its satisfac-
ton. We are not like the old proverbs
dog in the manger, that neither wants a
thing himself nor is willing that another
should have it; on the contrary, we are
much more like the little boy who eats
his cake and wants it, too. Nothing
would induce US to forego the various
happinesses of the period to which we
have arrived, the calmness and repose,
the clear-headed comprehension of vexed
problems. the wealth Of memory, the
power of looking out on the world and
and not only seeing, as in youth, but of
summarizing and philosophizing on
what you see.
Yet for all that We remember how
round was the cheek of youth, how delic-
ious was life at the dawning: and here is
the shadow of the Unknown Future be-
ginning to iall over us, and full soon shall
we feel the breath of the lark River; and
we seen fresh meaning in the words Of the
old Preacher; "rruly the light is sweat,
and pleasant thing it for the eyes to be-
hold the sun; but if man live MANY
years and rejoice in them ali,
yet let him remem6erl the days of dark
ness, they shall be many" AS the mon
arch considers demand for the surrend-
er OF his sceptcr, SO do we hate to lay
down our sovereignty, to retreat as the
new generation becomes resnant, to be-
come not only the mere commoners and
superannuaries Of the present, but the pen
sioners Of the past, to feel perhaps, a
passing remembered and reflected thrill
of the keen, quick joy at the fragrance of
wind, at bell notes on the evening air,
at so many other delightful things that
once we felt in full, but to feel, when that
wind blows, and that bell rings, and that
love story is sung, and the evening air
grows purple, that our thrill is only the
memory of the thrills Of years and years
ago, to known that multitude of choic-
est pleasures now are no more the object
OF actual experience, but are only an i'm
palpable procession Of bloodless ghosts.
-Hoypers Bazur