The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1886-02-25

Sn0t lO WI nNo 0aA VOllbCu ubulSCIB "
death; that in short, he died from
some exceptional agencies. Happy is
he if, after scanning the causes Of the
death, he can say: None Of these have
IT,
So interested does he become in this
morbid study that when he meets a
funeral procession he curionsly scans
the coffin, and il it be short enough to
Indicate that its contents are not the
remains Of an adult, he experien ces .
thrOb OF satisfaction. 1T is not the
full-grown who are dying" in his
exultaEt thought.
".
To him the past presents itself in
constantly varying prospects. Hither-
to it has given him but little occasion
for thought. Now it spreads out like
a map, and he studies it. Under this
examination it changes necessarily,
and things which before were prom
inent shrink into Insignificant dimen-
siOns, and others which had been re-
garded as petty and inconsequential as
sumo Importance. Thus, many acts
which were regarded at the moment Of
their occurrence as being possessed Of
grandeur, of worth. resolve themselves
into puny tribes in their consequences,
and unworthy in their motives. This
view over the long stretches Of the past
when taken from the heights rising be-
yOnd middle age, strangely dwarfs the
eminences, and reduces the most of
the distance into mOnOtOnOus level.
What IS curious about this back view
is not only the leveling of the heights.
but the bringing into view Of the little
-of things, events, and of people that
have long been out of sight. They rise
as it were from graves in which they
have been entombed from q generation
or more. and which would be supposed
to contain only ashes. But they are
not dead. They reappear in all the
freshness of their original existence.
They relate to no particular period of
life. save that perhaps they are fresher
and more distinct and life like the
nearer they are to the cradle. He sees
himself, on cold winters night, nest
ling in the lap Of his mother. He re-
calls distinctly the grateful warmth to
his bare feet Of the wooden dress. the
cracking Of the wood. and the flying
sparks in the open fire place. Scores,
hundreds Of incidents of this period,
long since forgotten, come into the
memory and repeople the remoter past.
While the early portion OF his life is
thus reviyified. that which is nearer
him grows more deserted.
The last dozen years are sparsely
populated. A little fignre remains
here and there, but the vast thrOngs
which once occupied the space have
disappeared. A haze hangs over the
nearer areas, through which things are
seen dimly. or are obscured beyond
sight Yearly the vaporous obscurity
grows denser, and he cOmprehends
that the time is not remote when this
portion of his life will be obliterated
from his vision. But as the darkness
increases on the foreground Of the
past, the dimncss Of the distance
wherein are located infancy and youth
is becoming infused with a growing
light, as the Ubscurity Of night is made
effnlgent by the elories of the day.
He is transported, as it were, back
to this early period of life. He dwclls
in it more than in the present. His
weary frame is again rocked in the
cradle; he races over the hillsides with
rOistering boys; he once more trembles
and shivers in the presence of some de-
mure schoolgirl. and dreams over the
delicious and disturbing experiences Of
his early loves. He is again robust
filled with indefinable aspirations
without care, healthy. and hopeful o.
the bright, and apparently endles.
future which extends before him.
Y.
These occasional excursions into thu
past afford him some little consolation
He then forgets for the moment hi
failing strength, the brevity Of th.
space which lies in front Of him, and il
rid, for q brief interval. of the harrow
ing uncertainties Of his condition. Th,
memories Of youth are his single re
fuge. All the greater efforts Of hi
life distress him with their littlcness q.
he contemplates them from his distan
standpoint. When near them the,
| were mountains, and now they hav,
sunk down on the horizon, and exhibi
no more than thin, wayy line agains
the sky. He sees them now a
the world does, If it sees them at all
nothing which he has built at the COS
of infinite labor remains within view
There comes to him the humiliatin.
conviction that his life has been useless
and that when he goes away he will b
forgotten as instantly as ifhe had neye
existed.
Directly in front of him. and 50 clos
that he can almost touch il, hangs ;
palllike curtain, which shuts off hi
vision. He regards it with unmixe,
horror and apprehension. Beyond j
lies the unknown, the inexplicable, tn
menacing, the troublous No-Man
Land, with all its frightful possibilitie
and its dread uncertainties.
/ In vain are the efforts to obtain
glimpse of the secrets lying beyond tn
veil with which the man who has grow
old occupies himself. 1t is course o
se!f-inflicted torture. He haunts tn
adyta of the Christian temples, inhale
the mystic .vapors of so-called inspira
ton, listens to the utterances, tn
promises OF the oracles, and secures II,
assurances that leave him Mt rest
From Delphi to Didyma. from Colophol
to Achaia, he wanders, invoking tn
priestesses of humiliation, of eterna
pain, of immortal felicity. and from
each gains--nOthing. Still the i'm
pcnetrab.e curtain shuts out the be
yond, and to his frantic Interrogation
there is no response. A horrible, in
exorable. deaf silence receives his de
mands aud absorbs them with 4 sub
lime and tranquil indifference.
Bafiied at every step; thrust dow
when he attempts to climb; given gauz,
legends aud mystic specnlations whel
he asks for facts; told to hope when
dizzy aud fainting, he is about to fal
into appalling and bottomless depths
commanded, when weak and stumbling
to lean on intangible faith; given al
ways vapor when asking for sub
stance, with regret behind and despai
before him. he falls into condition O
reckless hopelcssness, and as likely a