Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-09-15
Old Age.

Growing old gracefully is an art in
which few study to acquire perfection,
and yet how beautiful is age with the
grace and tenderness that properly belong
to the autumn and winter of life. There
is poetry that should linger about and
crown it with respect, reverence and ad-
mlration. The latter days should be set
to quick, pleasant music, and only soft,
sweet notes should ripple from the heart,
where it is vet spring time with all its
cherished associations.
Old people deserve sunny niche in
the household; their loving faces should
be framed IN the memory, dearer and
clearer than the gems that come from the
artists brush which called for our ad-
mlration. Their deeds of mercy and low
ing kindness, of patience and endurance
through trials, of thoughtfulness for
Others and sympathy in the hour of need,
should be printed on the heart in charac-
tiers that will never grow illegible. 1
! their hearts have been full of kind hui
mainly and sweet friendliness and gener-
Gus acts, then the coming night should
be gemmed with the stars ofaffection and
devotion. Would they drift back with
the tide, we often ask? Perhaps, if they
could only redeem the errors of youth
could only stem the breakers more cour-
ageously and noblY, and make of life a
richer poem. If their lives all the way
through have been set to the music of
thoughts, noble aspirations and brave
deeds, then the blossoms of admiration
and honor should be laid daily at their
feet by kindly hands.
| To the old, the rush of early memories
comes back like the lost notes of a song
they once loved. They delight to live
over the past; for them the meadow daisies
grow again, the yellow dandelions are
plucked with fearless fingers, the running
brook murmurs no music sweeter than
that they once knew in their hearts, and
the fragrant clover blossom breathes only
the perfume of a vanished June. They
carry with them always the poetry and
sweetness of remembrance.
About those VINO grow old gracefully,
there fingers forever the freshness and
tenderness of youth The silver hair
wears "Time's gathered snows." The
foolish, baff1ed hopes of mere worldly
ambition fade away before the infinite
longing for things higher and holier, and
to those upon whom they depend there
come verses which never can be written,
of sympathy with sorrow, resignation in
affiiction, cheerfulness in disappointment
and the sweet faith that helped to over
come all obstacles. We ofttimes smile
at their odd fancies, and wonder why thew
cling SO closely to little keepsakes and
treasures of the past; they may be but
links on the chain of Time, that carry
them back to more golden dawn.
Ole age is full of study. 1t has battled
with life SO long, and grown weary so of:
ten over its broken ambitions, its repeat
ed failures, its vain hopes. They often
forget the world once held for them SC
many aspirations; as they drift silently
toward that unknown shore the rapture Of
that strange, beautiful song" of youth
seems only a dim reality, half forgotten
The sunset hours of old age are filled
with CLEANS Of fading pictures, tinted
with roseate clouds or Swallowed with
tears; but if it be season of content.
ment, restful and cheerful, it always
wears gracious coloring, the dew of it,
influence rests upon our hearts; and we
insensibly yield admiration, reverence
and love to the unconscious charm OF
peace, repose and serenity that crowns
beautiful old age, and gives it a poetry
grand and tender sweet.