Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1882-06-22
Old Age.

What eloqLence in the wrinkled face!
The "hoary head" is called by the
wisest of men "a crown of glory" We
can not wonder that it is SO. Think
of life extending over a period of
three-score years and ten! Think of
heart bearing the test of toll and
trial for three-quarters of century!
Think of one man breasting the storm,
year after year, till his head grows
white with flakes that have gathered
there, bearing the burden Of care and
anxiety until his pulses grow feeble,
his limbs lose their tension, and 'the
pitcher" is ready to be "brokcn at the
| fountain" Can we wonder at the
command, "Thou shalt rise up before
the hoary head, and honor the face of
the old man ?" But how often it is
forgotten. Instead of generating old
age we learn to treat it lightly. Ere.
quently the smile Of amusement sup.
plants the answer of gentle respect.
The homely advice, the old-fashioned
ways, are made the subjects Of jokes
and puns. Even the titles Of tilial
respect, father" mother" are drop
ped for "the old man," "thc old wo-
man." or "the governor" All! can
we with impunity speak thus OF the
dear ones who have spent their best
years in toll for US? Can we see the
form once strong and erect becoming
bent and feeble, the waving brown
hair daily whitening, the firm, elastic
step growing slow and weary, and
heartlessly call that dear father "the
old governor" !" Can we note the fur
rows upon the once clear brow, the
glasses shading the once bright eyes,
and the wrinkles in hands that have
lost their whiteness in toll for us, and
lightly speak of that patient, loving
mother as "the old woman?
Our warmest friends should be
among those who are aged The weight
of years does not necessarily chill the
heart or sour the disposition. How
many furrowed faces can We think of
that are ever wreathed with smiles ?
How many wrinkled, toilworn hands
have held our own in clasp warm
and clinging as that of youth? How
many an aged heart ycarns over u
with love rs tender and ardent n We
ever can receive from our light-heartcd
young companions?
Let us, then, give love for love.
Smooth their declining pathway with
gentle words and kind attentions and
when they linger upon the scenes of
their own early days, let Us learn what
memories they cherish, what actions
they regret, that, by cmulating their
worthy deeds, gentle rccolcctions may
enhance the joys of our latter years.
Some of Us will doubtless live to be
old. Silver locks will take the place of
the brown. Dimples will be cX-
changed for wrinkles. The lily and
the rose, that now vie with each other
in freshness and beauty, shall both be
blighted by lifes chilling blast. The
eye that now glows and sparklesAall
be dimmed by the dust Of lile'sf -
way. The firm, elastic step viii be
feeble and tottering the erect form
bent and unsteady. When we have
climbed the rugged steep that now
frowns before Us, aud liugcr upon it,
summit, so weary and feeble, just wait
ing for the summons TO launch into
eternity, will there not be an awful
sublimity oyerhanging that brief time? ?
How our glance will wander back
along the path we trod from childhood
to old age! How strange will seem
the thought that we we're once merry,
light-hcarted children-that youth, |
with all its joys and pleasures, was
ours. How tcnderly then shall We
think of our carly friends. Others
will not remember them, only that
their names are carved upon the
cleaning marble in the churchyard. /
But how distinct to us will be the /
memory of each face aud form, each /
smile and word. How we shall long
for just one such day rs we spend with /.
the aged now. Aye, we shall rejoice |
to meet even a stranger who knew one /
of them in youth. Oh, we cannot
conceive how earnest and touching the |
memory of that past. What a solemn,
beautiful thing, that serene old age. |
How he would claim for it the respect
and veneration Of the young. Then
obeying that grand old rule let us do
to Others as We would they should do
to us. These aged ones around US
look back over youth as sweet and
as precious as our own. The friends
and companions Of their early days
were Just as dear to them AZ ours are
to us. They cherish memories as ten
der and sacred as We ever can. Their
life-work has been as noble and as
faithfully discharged as ours ever can
be. Can we feel the tenderness of the
thought, they once were young and
unxv ara nid 2 Thee or, C,,I. o.,tcxy.,,.,