Year: 1869

We perused an article in one of our
exchanges the other day under the above
caption, in which the writer lamented
the inevitable decree that sets upon the
milestone of the years behind us. and
brings US nearer to the close of our
journey. TO US the thought suggested
different train Of reflection We do
not feel that it is a sad thing to grow
old


AS We 90 forward and meet the years
each is a messenger that tells US pleasp
AIT story Of the land to which we have
taken up our pilgrimage; and though
we may not lay hands upon them and
detain them, yet they imbuc US with
very happy thoughts and pleasant mem,
ories, and cluthe each coming mcssen-
ger with halo. like garment of smiles
aud beauty. The long journey Of life
is but short, but it is long enough to
teach us tie idleness and lit,lcness OF
things earthly, and that our earthly
tabernacle is far too narrow to hold III
thrall that invisible FIRE of Immortality
that pulses through our being, or even
permit it to shine forth in that briIlian-
cy that it so much longs for.


Life is beautiful; but it is only beau
tliul as panorama that moves on to
the great and final climax, when the
curtains of eternity are drawn, and the
marvellous beauty ofthc universe opens
with its endless vision Of glory upon
our enlarged sight. and then dreams of
the past are veiled from view in place
Of the never-endine present The boy.
the sword aud the toy make up the
sum OF our existence, for the young
and old arc nearest Heaven. Prattliny
childhood and silver age walk hand in
hand, and laugh at the eamboiing
lambs aud make pretty speeches to the
bri ght birds and butterflies, for the
value Of time is but mist to the right
and to the left Of them, and love aud
innocence stand like cncrubs by the
cradle of the grave.


1t is only when we are among the
tropical clouds of the middle passages
Of life that we utterly forget the ems
blcms Of innocence and turn the edge
Of the sword against the unwarring
armies Of beauty, and this we do out
of very blindness, for when we pass
the mountain summit and 90 down the
gentle plain toward the gold and ame-
thyst pillars Of the sunset, We cast the
sword behind rs and reach forth for
the flowers that wave and beckon US
onward.


1here is nothing more touching and
beautiful than age. The bent form, the
feeble, tottcring step, the dimmed eye
aud the child-hke confidence Of the
aged, speak to every heart not dead to
every human emotion, with w0ndcr-
t'ul powerful power and pathos. We
do not envy the feeling of that person
that can say sighting word to or of
the aged Of C, cry condition of life and
whose strong hand is not held out to
them at every rough corner aud every
narrow crossing. Not many days since
we saw bright and beautiful girl, hay
lug almost the form and semblance of
an angel, rudely jostle a poor, decrepit
dame on the side walk, and tell her, in
tones Of petu!ance, to keep out Of hcr
way. That girls bright eyes will yet
be dim and luStreless, and her fair.
round shoulders bert with the weigh
of years and the burdens Of life; ant
if her lile's sunset is cold and obscurel
with clouds, it Will be because she her
self, in the bloom Of youth, poisoned
the challce with suicidal hand. o
all to be loved and cherished and kind


ly cared for, the aged ere the first dc


serving, for they have borne their shar


Of the burdens, aud their patient eye


are only waiting to see the gates lite


up, when they will be closed in ecstac.
of love. We grow old, but only tina
we may rchabilitate ourselves with th
garments of an endless yoath.