Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1897-12-24

knitting as the day dies out-thc children
who have grown tired Of their toys asleep
on the tuited 1Oor-the cat, the pet Of the
household, stretched at full length in the
warmth Of the fre-and last but not least,
the father, the head Of the household, in his
old arm chair, smoking bis accustomed pipe
whilst reading the daily papers-how calm
and happy he looks We never see the head
Of the family thus seated and enjoying his
pipe without regarding that same pipe as an
institution which we would hardly be will
ling 10 Danish entirely from the world.
There is much Of philosophy in pipe,
too, il one would but take the trouble 10
study II, great subjects for moralizing, much
food Tor reflection, and all this outside of the
physical enjoyment. 1t does not weaken
the power of thought nor stultify the brains.
1t quiets the nerves, makes a man look in
charity upon the world, and TO Judge with
chastened lenity the shortcomings of his
neighbor. 1t reconciles him to his lot, and
sends him TO his pillow, or about his labors,
with a calm deliberate cheerfulness, very
desirable TO those who come under the
law that requires people to earn their bread
by the sweat Of their brow.
We called the other day upon venerable
friend who is travelling down the hill of life
quietly, and though with the past summer
he has accomplished his three score years
and ten, his voice is as cheerful and his heart
as young as they were decades ago, when
his manhood was in the glory and strength
OF its prime. We found him sitting in his
great arm chair, smoking his accustomed
pipe, reading the evening papers. He seemed
to be 80 calm and happy, ss the smoke went
wreathing up from his lips, that we could
not for the moment refrain from envying
the calmness and repose which were visible
all around him. He has smoked his morn
ing and evening pipe, in his quiet way, for
nearly half century. We visit this vener.
able philosopher in his hearty and green old
age often during the Summer. We can see
him now, in our minds eye, sitting under
the spreading branches of the trees planted
by himself half century ago, discu ssing
politics, morals, history, religion, phloso.
phy-recounting anecdotes of the early set
Element of the county, of which he was q
pioneer See how calmly he smokes whilst
flood of memories from the shadowy past
sweeps over him, discoursing wisely of the
present, or speaking propheticaly of the
future. Happy old man, may the warm
light of domestic joy continue to shine upon
your hearth, and through the clouds CLEAN
ever star, to guide you onward and upward
as the Winter of life closes around you
when the last pipe has been smoked and the
last bowl of ashes is scattered
Want of space reminds US that we must
close these rambling thoughts AS we do
so, the twilight steals from the grave of the
dead day like some aged and almost pulseless
mourner whispering his sorrows to the night
winds Clouds are over the earth. Damoness
is in the valleys, and over hilltops the mist
hangs heavily The wind with fitful breath
rustles the dead leaves, and one by one they
slowly fall into their damp cold grave As
we look out Of our window we see
-"the lights of the village
CLEAN through the rain and the mist,
And feelings of sadness come over us
That our soul cannot resist"