The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1896-08-29
BILL ARP'S LETTER.
MAKING HIMSELF USEFUL IN
HIS OLD AGE.
Tho Philosopher Has Reached His
Seventeen Mile Post.

elbow many. miles to Milybright?
Three score and ten." Now, since I
have just passed my SEVENTEEN year on
this mundane sphere, I can't keep that
old refrain out of my mind. Three
SCORE and teni It follows mo about,
and seems to say: "Your time is out,
old gentleman. Every day you live
now Is del gratia-a favor-an extra
allowance that was not promised and
is not deserved. So, be thankful and
prudent, and don't drink too much ice
water this hot weather. A young
mans majority is twenty-one, an old
mans seventy. Twice he crosses the
Rubicon, if he lives that long, and
then comes another rivera dark one
and like Caesar he may say, Jacta
est alea'-the die is cast"
was terminating about this seventy
years-this magical sacred number
that is mans allotted age. Seventy
learned men translated the Old Tesla
ment 800 years before Christ, and sew
enty disciples were sent out by Him as
missionaries to preach the gospel and
establish His church. It was Moses
who wrote that the days of our years
shall be three score and ten, and yet
he lived to be one hundred and twenty
years-nearly twice the allotted age,
and half of which was labor and sor-
row-working with vexatious and
ungrateful people. 1t is curious how
gradually the age of mankind dropped
down from nine hundred to one hund-
red and twenty in the ten generations
that succeeded Noah; then it dropped
to seventy in the next ten, and there
it stands. There has been no change
for 4, 900 years. The long suffering OF
the Creator seems to have been ap-
peased.
Well, of course these seventy years
are not the fixed limit for any man or
woman, but they are certainly the
allotment of human longevity. But
few go beyond it. The wagon breaks
down all over. It can't be patched up
any more. For several years it has
been sent to the shop occasionally for
repairs, and been doing light work,
but the time will surely come when
wheels and axles and hounds must all
collapse. This is no misfortune nor
fault nor penalty, but, as Judge Ham
mond used to say, cit is the law OF
this case" and there is nothing SO very
sad or horrible about it. 1t is just
such change as ell nature is going
through, and if a man lives right, he
has no reason to lament its coming.
Every seed of tree or flower is SYM
boil of our own resurrection.
Old age has its rewards as we'll as it's
infrmities. Moses said that the young
men shall stand up and honor the faces
of the old men, and many of the prom
ises are good old age-a full age-a
ripe old age, as shock of corn in its
season. How considerate are the child
rem to their aged parents, and how
loving are their grandchildren. They
run our errands and comb my back
hair and black my shoes and 60 to the
postoffice. The years from seventy to
eighty are not always years of labor
and sometimes they are the
best of oil. Sydney Smith said: II
am seventy-four years old, am at ease
in my circumstances, in tolerable
health, a mild whig, o tolerating
churchman, much given to talking,
laughing and noise. I am, upon the
whole, q happy mau-have found the
world entertaining, and am thankful
| to providence for the part allotted me
in it,"
Much depends on mans surround.
ings, but more depends on his philoso-
ply. One poet says:
'The world is very lovely. Oh my God,
thank Thee that live."
Another says;
II would not live Away, ask not to stay
Where storm after storm grows dark DER
the way"
Bryant writes beautifully about life
and death and lying down to pleasant
dreams. DR.. Holmes pokes his ire
sistible humor at old age:
'.But now his moss is thin
And it rests upon his chin
Like staff,
And crook is in his back
And melancholy crack
In his laugh;
But kLow it is sin
For me to sit and grin
At him here"
| Aud it was. He should have risen up
according to scripture and tipped his
hat to the poor old man. But che
bears are extinct in that region, and
the doctor knew it.
Mr.. Shakespeare is somewhat sar.
castle himself, for he makes Prince
Hal say to Falstaff:
"Are you not written down with oil
the charters of old age? Have you moi
o moist eye, q dry hand, yellow
cheek, q white beard, decreasing leg,
an increasing corporosity? Is not your
voice broken, your wind short, your
chin double, your wit single, and
every part about you blasted with an
tiquity?"
That is vile SANDER upon the three
score and ten of this generation. Look