The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1878-07-04
The Days That Are No More.

There comes season to most of us
when, all at once, we awake to the fact
that we are no longer young, and some
thing angry with fate, with ourselves,
with laws Of the universe, and with those
that observe them in relation to us, we
experience surprise and indignation, as
IT we were the only ones who ever grew
od. The strange boys playing under
the window, who, when we had occasion
to demonstrate with their annoyance, used
to speak of US as that girl,' now give a
second glance and say "that woman''-a
little thing, the mere scratching of
match, but it kindles a great fire, in
! which the dreams and hopes of youth be-
gin to dissipate in smoke and vapor. Some
one incidentally speaks of us as ''middle-
aged" whereas our mothers hardly seem
to us to have passed that meridian. the
boundry line of different land from
youth; but, after fair debate with facts
and the look'ng'glass, we have had to
yield the point.
The daughter of our old schoolmate.
married on or about her graduation day,
who has now grown up and come before
US to replace her mother in some mysteri.
Gus way, receives our em GRACE as ''good
motherly kiss" and arouses us to the cir.
cumstance that whatever We have been
thinking of her as our contemporary, she
has been thinking of US as her mothers
contemporary. We have neve. given the
subject thought before; it has been one
OF the things taken for granted with us
that OF course we are young, Just as the
sky Is blue or the earth round, because
we always have been young-that, in
truth, all people are young till they feel
| old. But what are the facrs2 For the
first time We consider them. As far as
years 90 to make up the count, we must
admit that We nave crossed the median
line, perhaps; our years are no longer the
years OF romance and poetry. As far as
| looks go--well, it is true there arc silver
threads among the gold we had regarded
| them as accidents; but they were not &C.
cidcnts-they were necessities; there are
wrinkles round the eyes, more or less,
which have no longer the firm young
muscle, to hold them full; some teeth are
missing, or the dazzel of the enamel is
gone; thsre is the suspicion Of a horrid
hollow On tile cheek; under the best con-
ditions, and however attractive the face
may remain, the rosy roundness there is
gone.
So far as feelings go-well, it has only
seemed to us till now as if lite deepened
and enriched itself each year. Then we
begin to look about us, peradventure to
sea how the thing strikes the rest of the
world. We have spent years in listening,
in learning, in making ourselves compan-
ionable, possibly entertaining; we see the
veriest chit, with her luacious flesh and
color, ignorent of life and everything else
6u: her own senses, preferred before US.
All! then other people found out long
ago what has just been revealed to us;
we are old, and have been making fools
OF ourselves in masquerading as young.
We declare to our selfinvestigation, then,
that We do not care for the success
OF the pretty girl; 1t may be that We had
as much in our day; we do not find it in
our heart to envy her; perhaps we pity
her that the beam in which the sports 50
soon must fade. Their suddenly we see
that We are plying the young; truly we
are not of their numberl And if We had
no sensation OF the sort before, henceforth
We acknowledge that We have one foot in
the grave.
Then, by slow access of meditation. we
are aware that much of the freshness of
feeling is gone, much of that which once
gave US rapture, our powe, of Joyous ap-
probation, our tNllpess Of enthusiasm; we
are not again aspt by the. spell Of any