Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1879-04-15
For the SPECTATOR.
A Fragment.

The last night in the Old Year! I
leaned over the balustrade, watching
the crescent moon slowly sinking be-
hind the purple hills, smiling sadly,
thinking of the dying Year. Thetwink-
ling stars paled as they sang together
the requiem of the passing spirit. All,
what holy hush! The winter birds
tuck their little heads beneath their
downy wings, allowing no thrilling
song to disturb the last, sad hours of
the death watch. One! two!! three !!
nine long, startling strokes from the
town clock ring out, setting the curly,
crispy air into circular, quivering mo-
ton. Only three brief, winged hours and
the dear Old Year will be no more. Lis
ten !! wall. long, deep and bitter follows
those fearful peals. What is it? What
ominous fate portends? All. it is the
wall of the spirit months over ths pillow
of their sinking Mother January, with
his stern face and knotted staff; Febru-
airy, bearing tribute of pure fresh snow
drops, at the sight of which the sufferer
family smiles, while she tries to press
his piercing winds tanned to fan the
brow of his beloved parent; April, with
her swelling buds and cool rain-drops,
gentle tears; fair May, with her gar
lands of beautiful flowers; sunny June,
with her trophies of. sweet jessamine
and cleaning tube roses; July. with
her soft, soothing zephyrs and wheat
August. with ears of corn and wreaths
of yellow grain; October, with leaves
all crimson and gold, with hazy skies
and glorious sunsets; November, with
refreshing fruits and rich brown nuts !;
aud last, December, with an icy smile,
completes the magic circle round the
couch of Old Year-dying, dying! The
clock strikes ten, and softly steal back
into the great Cathedral, where the
mighty organ, together with the sweet
voices of men, sObs, throbs, swslls and
falls, reverberating through the long
allies, bidding last farewell to the Old
Year-mother alike of so many joys, of
SO many sorrows. There sit together the
bride and the mourner the one, though
sad to part with the Year which wit
messed her nuptials, yet whose face "a
dates with newborn happiness; the
other, weeping over the remembrance
of the new made grave of her fair haired
boy, who but one short month ago trod
on the flowers of health and beauty.
See! that mother kneels, she lifts the
folds of heavy crepe from her face,
while her pale lips move in prayer for
her darling, that Christ will keep him
close to His bosom till she comes. Moth
er, thy seraph child bends over thee !;
his sainted fingers almost touch thy
bowed form; he whispers in thy ear.
telling thee to weep not for the passing
Year, whose death brings thee nearer
him; that Fastening Time will soon
sound the silver summoner, welcoming
thee into the "Pearly Gates" and to
thy darling's arms. List! the deep
notes swell on, sob on my heart is
full; I cannot stay where that solemn
chant falls on my ear, but again seek
the balcony and lean over the balus-
trade, watching the fading, dying Year,
as the breath comes quicker and shorter.
"Tell them not to grieve for me-" she
family murmurs, those in this beauti-
full world, my loving subjects. I go to
the land of Everlasting Bliss-and after
all with sigh) there are many troubles
here, many hearts lacerated with secret
griefs." Eleven awful peals burst SOL
emnly on the chilly air; the watchers
gather closer round the couch the suf-
ferer turns her face from them, whis-
pering brokenly. "dying-dying-tare-
aUeW-f0reverW The spotless snow be-
kIllb W loii, olo"AyJ oASnSiJ ShAOuOiHS
the pale sleeper, sleeper forever more,
for the last sad funeral rites. See the
hands are crossed on the pulseless breast,
the lips are parted in a cherub-like
smile, while still the snow falls noise
lessly, gently; shutting out with its soft,
fakey folds the loved and tranquil Wis.,
age of our dear Old Year. Twelve
O'Clock! The white robed hours. tender
pall-bearers, lift the bier of the late Old
Year reverently, bearing it gently to the
cold grave prepared-the dusky Past.
turn to leave my post Of observation
but some joyous strains greet my ear,
and turning see triumphal car ush-
cred in by the hours-not white robed
now; they have assumed some rosy,
gold-fringed drapery, which floats about
the gilded car like glorious sunset clouds.
The New Year, think I, and scarcely
has this conjecture been formed, when
the New Sovereign steps from the car
and ascends the vacated throne, the
beautiful earth. The organ peals out
q rapturous welcome, and voices from
all sides catch up and REUTER- the
joyful greeting-"Happy New Year!
Welcome New Year!n
HOPE CLOUDE.