LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS PAST MERIDIAN. BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. Here, at Earth's banquet, he's the wisest guest Who gladly takes whate'er his God doth send, Keeping each instrument of joy in tune, That helps to fit him for the choir of Heaven. bition. REVISED AND ENLARGED T THE AUTHOR. PRINTED BY JOHN F. TROW, NEW YORK. PUBLISHED BY BROWN AND GROSS, HARTFORD, CONN. LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S64, by F. A. BROWN, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Connecticut. JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER, STEREOTYPER, AWD ELECTROTYPER, 46, 48, & 50 Greene St., New York. PREFACE. IT is not considered polite to ask people their age, after the bloom of youth has departed. I would not willingly violate the rules of decorum, or tempt any one to hide the foot-prints of Time, as the Indian warrior covers his track with leaves. Making no invidious inquiry, let me simply whisper in the ear of those who have achieved more than half life's journey, that this book is for them. It is their own exclusive property. It is devoted heart and hand to their interest. Whoever is found reading it may be suspected to have attained the same ripe age. It is, therefore, a kind of confidential affair between me and my compeers we, whose faces are towards the setting sun. To all such, I offer the right hand of fellowship. We are in the same 4 PEEFACE. category a joint-stock concern that admits no young partners. Every camp has its watch-word. Every state its history. Every profession its policy. Have not we ours ? Aye, and our rights too ? And shall we not stand for them? Come, let us see. L. H. S. HARTFORD, CONN. CONTENTS. PREFACE, . . . . . .3 I. THE A. M.'s AND THE P. M.'s, 7 II. OLD, . ..... . . .15 III. REPORTERS, . . . . .25 IV. THE CUSTODY OF KNOWLEDGE, . . .32 Y. THE BEAUTY OF AGE, . . . ' . 43 VI. AIR, . . . * '.-',. .55 VII. DOMESTIC FESTIVALS, . . . . 71 VIII. BIRTHDAYS, . . . . . .91 IX. PATRIOTIC RECOLLECTIONS, . . .104 X. ACCOMPLISHMENTS, . . . . .120 XI. PRIVILEGES OF AGE, .... 131 XII. LONGEVITY AND INTELLECTUAL LABOR, . . 146 XIII. AGED DIVINES, . . N 173 XIV. REMARKABLE WOMEN, .. . . . 237 XV. WESTERING SUNBEAMS, . . . .275 XVI. ABOUT MONEY, . . . . .299 XVII. THE AMENITIES, . . . . .315 XVIII. THE PLEASURES OF WINTER, . . .325 XIX. A NEW EXISTENCE, .... 330 OHAPTEE I. Cfte &. H.'s aid % ft " AH ! what concerns it him whose way Lies upward to the immortal dead, That a few hairs are turning gray ? Or one more year of life hath fled ? Swift years ! still teach us how to bear, To feel, to act, with strength and skill, To reason wisely, nobly dare, Then speed your courses as ye will : When life's meridian toils are done, How calm, how rich the twilight glow, The morning twilight of a sun That shines not here on things below." PROFESSOR NORTON. THE equinoctial of human life, though vague ly denned, is not an imaginary line. Arithme tically speaking, thirty-five, as predicated on the allotted span of seventy years, is the true zenith. Yet life's latitude can not be computed 8 PAST MERIDIAN. with such exactness. Of Cuvier, it was said at sixty, that he was but in the climax of his scientific powers ; and Klopstock, at eighty, bore the epithet of " the youth forever." These instances are, indeed, but exceptions, and it must be, doubtless, admitted that the meridian of life is fully passed at fifty. It would be an exceedingly liberal construction to extend to sixty, the dividing line between the ante and the post-meridian people. Bound aries may diverge, here and there, but the char acteristics and possessions of those on each side of this debatable ground are sufficiently distinct. With the A. M.'s, are the beauty and the vigor, and the ambition of this present world. Of these distinctions they are aware and tena cious. Yet, the P. M.'s are not utterly cyphers. This, I trust, in due time to show. If with them, there is a less inflated hope, there should be a more rational happiness ; for they have winnowed the chaff from the wheat, and tested both what is worth pursuing, and worth pos sessing. Is there any antagonism between these par ties ? Is one disposed to monopolize, and the THE A.M.S AND THE P. M.S. 9 other to consider itself depreciated ? Does one complain that " Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage ? " and the other morosely withdraw from the battle of life, and its reciprocities ? We will not admit any just ground for such estrange ment. Rather are they differing tenses of the same verb, the verb " to love" whose root is in the blessed principle that binds the universe together. Children are they of the morning and of the evening, living on the bounty of one common Father, and lighted by the beams of the same rising and setting sun, to His home in Heaven. The duties that devolve on the P. M.'s are not often as clearly evident, or as strongly enforced as those which appertain to their pre decessors. One class comprises the planting, the other the garnering process. In agricul ture, the necessity of preparing the soil, and sowing right seed, is apparent and imperative. The requisitions to remove weeds, and destroy noxious insects, are equally obvious. But when the objects of culture approach their final maturity, vigilance declines. Still, the care ful gardener will give the perfecting peach the l* 10 PAST MERIDIAN. shelter of a wall, or the clustering grape a prop, that it may better meet the sunbeam. The laborer knows that the golden sheaf needs the vertic sun, and the boy seeks not his nuts in the forest, till the frost opens their sheath. So, in this our mortal life, though the toils that fit for action, are more obvious and press ing, yet the responsibilities of its period of re pose, deserve frequent and distinct contempla tion. For that richest fruit of the Creator, the soul of man, that which survives, when all other works of creation perish, goes on ripen ing and ripening as long as it hangs in this garden of time, and needs both earthly and divine aid to bring it happily to the eternal harvest. It has been said that the ethics of age have been less elaborately stated than those of youth or maturity. Still, the most perfect philosophy, the most sublime precepts, fail, without the ex ample of a good life. The morality of Socrates and Seneca, was beautiful, but their times fur nished no illustrations. The code of Confucius was fine, but lacked vitality. How much more impressive is the theory of Addison, he who was enabled to say at last, " Come see in what peace a Christian can die." THE A.M.S AND THE P. M.S. 11 "I know of but one way, he adds, of fortifying the mind against gloomy presages and terrors, and that is, by securing the friendship of that Being who disposes of all events, and governs futurity. He sees at one view, the whole thread of my exis tence, not only that part of it which I have already passed through, but that which runs forward into the depths of eter nity. When I lie down to sleep, I recommend myself to His care ; when I awake I give myself up to His direction. Amidst all the evils that threaten me, I will look up to Him for help, and question not but He will avert them, or turn them to my advantage. Though I know neither the time, nor the manner of the death that I am to die, I am not at all solicitous about it, because I am sure that he knows them both, and that He will not fail to support and comfort me under them." A serenity thus founded and sustained, pro motes the perfecting of the soul's best fruits. Earthly perturbations check their full develop ment, and may cause them to fall before their time. To pass through God's world unrecon ciled, or in hostility to Him, is fearful arrogance. To estrange from His service the powers that He has given, or the affections that He claims, is treason heightened by ingratitude. If this has been the case with any of us, let us lay aside the weapons of our warfare. When we first entered this pilgrimage, many paths allured us, each bright with flowers, and birds -of : " hope. Some we followed, till the flowers faded and the song ceased. Others we entered, and hastily retraced, finding only thorns and 12 PAST MEKIDIAN. pitfalls. Now, approaching the close of our probation, a single road strongly solicits us, one prominent object concentrates our desires, a happy entrance into the " house not made with hands ! " All along the way there is happiness for those whose hearts are in unison with the Di vine will. With a prayer of penitence for the erring past, and a hymn of faith for the joyous future, they pass onward, their Christian graces maturing day by day, under the " clear shining of the Sun of Righteousness." Thus may it be with us. until the last, bright drop of this brief existence shall be exhaled. Those who have completed half a century, if not literally numbered among the aged, have yet reached a period of great gravity and im portance. They should have gained an ascent w r hich discloses much of earth's vanity. They have passed life's meridian, and journey hence forth toward the gates of the west. The loved ones who like tutelary spirits presided over their earliest years, and rejoiced in their blossoming promise, have long since ceased those ministra tions, or departed to their reward. For the re sponsibilities that remain, they must gird them selves, and help to gird others. To a future THE A. M.'S AND THE P. M .' S . 13 generation they should pay the debt which they have incurred from the past. Time has also to them, a heightened and an increasing value. For should they reach three score and ten, which it is computed that only five in one hundred of our race attain, or even far exceed the prescribed date of man, every year is said to gather fleetness as it approaches its goal. The rapidity of the tide of time has been well depicted by one of our eloquent lecturers, the Eev. Henry Giles. " There is no Gibeon in life, upon which we can rest for a moment, the morning or the noontide ; there is no Ajalon in our age, whereon we can force the moonlight to repose beyond its appointed hour. We can not rekindle the morning beams of childhood ; we can not recall the noontide glory of youth ; we can not bring back the perfect day of maturity ; we can not fix the evening rays of age, in the shadowy horizon ; but we can cherish that goodness which is the sweetness of childhood, the joy of youth, the strength of maturity, the honor of old age, and the bliss of saints." The aids of philosophy to promote the com fort and dignity of advancing age have been often given, in the form of beautiful rules, or striking aphorisms. Yet these will be found frail, or rootless, unless the soul is at peace with itself and with its Maker. " I can scarcely think that man in his right mind " said the 14 PAST MERIDIAN. eloquent Cicero, " who is destitute of reli gion." It may be, that God's gift of life in its more protracted periods, is by certain classes of ob servers, undervalued, or vilified. Should it be our lot to reach any of those periods, may we do justice to the Giver's goodness. May we so cooperate with all heavenly influences, so con form our conduct to the precepts of the Gospel, so trust in our Redeemer, that " What is dark In us, He may illumine ; what is weak, Raise and support." Thus, striving to prove that age, though deemed unlovely, can be happy and holy, may we find the last note of its hymn sweetly har monizing with the angel's welcome, " Come up hither I " CHAPTER II. a "My Mariners! Souls that have toiled and wrought and felt with me, That ever with a simple welcome took The thunder or the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads, you and I are old. Yet age hath still his honor and his joy." TENNYSON. OLD ! Can you remember how you felt, when that adjective was first coupled with your name ? Perhaps your milliner in fitting a new hat, chanced to remark, that was a " be coming fashion for an old lady ; " or some coach man, by way of recommending his carriage, might have added, it was remarkably easy for an " old gentleman to get in and out of." Old, indeed ! How officious and rude these 16 PAST MERIDIAN. common people are ! Whereupon, you have consulted your mirror, and been still more indignant at their stupidity. But you may have been gently helped along to this conclusion, by the circumstance of pater nity. Old Mr. and Mrs., set in apposition with young Mr. and Mrs., lose much of their dis cordance and become familiar household words. The satisfaction of hearing your eldest darling thus distinguished, has softened the bitterness of your own unflattering cognomen. Possibly, you have been moved magnanimously to ex claim with the sententious Ossian, u Let the name of Morni be forgotten among the people, if they will only say, behold the father of Gaul." Still, it is hard to have a quietus suddenly put upon long-cherished hopes and vanities. " The baby shall not be named after me," said a young parent of his first-born, " for it will be old John and young John, while I am yet in my prime." " I wish my son had not taken it into his head to marry so early," said a lady in a remarkably fine state of preservation ; " for now, I suppose, it must be old Madam, and young Madam." The unmarried, whose recol lections can bisect a century, are prone to be OLD. 17 annoyed at the disposition to pry into dates, and are sure that no well-bred person would be guilty of such absurd curiosity. Yet, to veil the traces of time, and put fam ily records out of the way, are of little avail. There will be here and there, a memory stub bornly tenacious of chronological matters, and whoever labors to conceal his proper date, will usually find some Argus ready to watch over and reveal it. But, after all ! what is there so frightful in this little Saxon word old? This collocation of three innocent letters, why do they thrill the hearts of so many fair women and brave men, with terror and aversion ? Is everything that is old deteriorated ? What do you think of old wine ? We can not, indeed, say quite as much about that, in these temper ance times, as Anacreon did. But I've always understood, when physicians recommended its tonic or restorative powers in medicine, it was the old, and not the new. Ask the epicure to partake of new cheese. Saith he not, " the old is better." Does any one question the correct ness of his taste ? What do you say of an old friend, that best cordial of life ? Blessings on his smile, and on the hearty grasp of his hand. 18 PAST MERIDIAN. What if he does come, leaning on his staff? There is no winter in his heart. He was brought up in times when friendship was more than a name. " The vine produces more grapes when it is young," says Bacon, " but better grapes for wine, when it is old, because its juices are more perfectly concocted." Very true, no doubt. A wise man was my Lord Bacon. We see every thing is not worse for being old. Is it worth while to be so much shocked at the circumstance of becoming old ? Is it a mark of excommunication from our race ? On the contrary, we have a chance of finding some very good company. So then, we to whom thrice twenty years, each with its four full seasons, fairly counted out, pressed together, and running over, have been given, will no longer resist the epithet, old. " To this complexion we have come at last." We will not be ashamed of it. It is better to be old, than to be wicked. Let us draw nearer together. I hold that we are not a despisable body. Similarity of position gives community of interest. Have we not something to say, that others need not hear ? We'll say it in this book. OLD. 19 And first, I would whisper a proposition, that we depend not too much on sympathy from the young. Those who earnestly demand that commodity, having outlived their early associates, will stand a chance of being num bered among the repiners of old, " sitting in the market-place, and calling unto their fellows, we have piped unto you, and ye have not danced, we have mourned unto you, and ye have not lamented." Secondly, let us search after bright things, in the world, and among its people. " Ever}?- year of my Kfe," says Cecil, " I grow more con vinced that it is wisest and best to fix our attention on the beautiful and the good, and dwell as little as possible on the dart and the base." Yet it is said that the Past Meridians are prone to be querulous, dissatisfied, and dealers in complaints, I think I have heard a few of these. Supposing we should examine them. " The world is not what it used to be" No. It is in a state of palpable progress. It has thrown off its seven-mile boots, and travels by steam. Those who plod after it in their an tique, lumbering stage coaches fail to keep in sight the smoke of its engine. We can not 20 PAST MEEIDIAN. overtake it, and it will not stay for us. The world is in a different phase of action. It pleads guilty to this accusation. What next ? " We do not receive the respect that was once paid to age? Perhaps we expect too much. Is not something due from us \ We think the young neglect us. Do we not owe something to the young ourselves ? Those who linger at a banquet after others are gone, should take especial pains to make themselves agreeable. If we find less courtesy than we wish, let us show more. It becomes us to be very meek and patient, to make amends for our long enter tainment at life's board. " I had a beautiful dream," said a bright boy. " I thought we children were all in heaven, and so happy. By and by, grandfather came in frowning, and say ing, as he always does, ' Can't these children stop their noise ? ' So we all ran away." " People are tired of us? It may be so. The guest who tarries late, is sometimes counted intrusive or burdensome. Toward those who have long retained coveted honors or emolu ments, there is a natural impatience for rever sion. " That old lawyer has stood first at the bar, long enough," says the younger aspirant. " That old physician gets all the practice ; we OLD. 21 young doctors may starve." " That old author has been the favorite of the public an unreason able time ; the rest of us want a fair chance." The monopoly of wealth is equally hazardous, though expectant heirs may be less frank in their expressions of impatience. The resignation at the departure of the aged and distinguished, can be readily understood. Allusions to the majority of the early sum moned, may be sometimes significant. " Those whom the gods love, die young," said a pagan. In an age when all slow movements are un popular, speed in departure may possibly be counted among the graces ; and in a republic, a desire for the equalization of honors, is nei ther peculiar nor reprehensible, " We are not in good liealih? Very likely. It would be remarkable if we were. We could not expect to Avear the world's harness so many years, up hill, and down hill, without some chafing. It would be a wonder if none of our senses were enfeebled. They have served us a long time. Let us be thankful for the period in which we have seen clearly, heard quickly, and moved nimbly. Many mysterious springs, and intricate chords, and delicate humors, have been kept in order to this end. We will praise 22 PAST MEEIDIAN. the Architect of such wonderful mechanism, that it has so well served us, and that He has seen fit so long to keep the " pitcher from being broken at the fountain, or the wheel at the cistern." " Our early friends have departed? Ah ! there is sadness in that sound. But on this tenure we commenced our earthly journey. They were to go from us, or we from them. We linger in the deserted hall, and ought not to marvel that its flowers droop, and its lamps wane, or are extinguished. Yet our blessed ones, lost for a time on earth, are they not to be found in heaven ? Only a little in advance of us, have they forded the dark river. See we not their white garments glitter from the oppo site shore ? Does not their smile inspire us with courage ourselves to launch away ? We go not to a stranger's land. Is not that glorious clime of our hope, endeared by the thought that so many of those whom we best loved here, await us there ? that the hands which we here pressed so fondly shall renew the love-clasp, which death for a moment sundered ? that those voices which have never ceased to linger in our hearts as a treasured melody, shall be the first to welcome us to the society of an " innumer- OLD. 23 able company of angels, and to the spirits of the just made perfect ? " Whoever persists in complaining of this mortal life, virtually admits that he desires another. Are we ready for an untried exist ence ? ready at a moment's warning to launch away, and return no more ? ready for its atmos phere and service of love ? If any preparation for this change of clime is incomplete, let us address ourselves fervently to the work, without loss of time or energy, in murmuring. We might, indeed, from loneliness and morbidness, multiply complaints without end. The habit might grow with indulgence, till every breath became a claim for sympathy, or an objurgation if it were withheld. But cui bono ? Have not others infirmities and troubles as well as ourselves ? Why add to our own load ? Would it not be better to take a part of theirs ? " Bear ye one another's bur dens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." It hath been well said that " murmuring is a black gar ment, and becometh none so ill as saints." Oh friends ! let us not lose our interest in life's blessings, because we have so long enjoyed our share of them. Rather, as an eloquent writer of our own has said, will we " arise, and 24 PAST MERIDIAN.' throw open a window in our hearts, and let in the tone of the bird, and the breath of the violet." We will not permit that bright heart- window to be sealed, nor the hand, through our own inertness, to become paralyzed, while genial nature still spreads her charms around us, and invites us to rejoice in them, and in the God who gave them. CHAPTEE III. " Gather earth's glory and bloom within, That the soul may be brighter when vouth is past." MRS. OSGOOD. " THE senses," says Lord Bacon, " are report ers to the mind." No wonder that they should get wearied with taking evidence, when the case is kept before the court some three or four score years. It is only surprising that their declension should not be expected. Various expedients have the ingenuity of man devised, to strengthen their weakness, or supply their loss. The spectacle-maker fur nishes eyes, and the dentist teeth. The wor shipful fraternity of wig fanciers, cover bald temples with hair, to any desired pattern or 2 26 PAST MERIDIAN. hue. The crutch-vender, and the cork-worker, do their best to aid diseased locomotion. The tiny curving trumpet, promises to stir the dull tympanum. Yet, can any human power revivify the defunct ear ? If sound hath died in its myste rious temple, is there a resurrection, a second life ? Among the senses, that of hearing is prone to "be the most frequently impaired, and when lost, to awaken the least sympathy. The hand is involuntarily stretched to lead the blind, or to give a seat to the lame. But, at the approach of the deaf, there is a flight, or with those who remain a sense of labor. No long conversations can be anticipated, save with the long-suffering. Deafness, more than other infirmities, repels intercourse, and cuts the links that bind man to society. Has our ear grown weary ? It has heard many discords in its day, without a doubt. The nerves, its ambassadors, may need repose. It is true that we are thus prevented from ren dering ourselves agreeable in society. But, perhaps, when we were there, we did not do or receive any great amount of good. Possibly, our oral contributions to knowledge may not be much missed, and meditation may be as serv- REPORTERS. 2? iceable to us as the taking in of new supplies. It may be our true wisdom to withdraw from the traffic of words, and cultivate a more thor ough acquaintance with our own hearts, and our hearts' true friends, the angels. Perchance we have lingered long enough among earth's broken tones, and are called to reserve our list ening powers for the melodies of heaven. The eye, that keeps so fresh our blessed communion with nature, has that become dim ? Are those who " look out at the windows, dark ened ? " Must the world of books be in a great measure closed to us, or perhaps, the dear faces of friends shrouded ? Then, the soul's pictures gather clearness, and memory walks in halls where is perpetual light. Thought concen trates itself, and makes its work more perfect. Should we have had the Iliad of Homer, or the greater poems of Milton, or the histories of Prescott, if the outer eye had not been " quench'd by drop serene," and the flashing of the world's torches and flambeaux shut out from the mind's sanctuary ? Hear the brave, blind old poet, " So much the rather, thou Celestial Light, Shine inward, and the soul thro' all her powers Irradiate." 28 PAST MEKIDIAN. Good and faithful servants have the report ing senses been to us. Year after year have they spread for us the charms of nature, and "brought us the music of the living world, and the odor of the rose, and the thrill of the love- kiss, and the pleasure drawn from the essences of earth's fruits, and from that inferior creation which was yielded to man's dominion, that the nutriment of their life might sustain his own. If any of those sentinels at length slumber at their post, if they falter or decay, we will not view it as an infliction, or an affliction, but rather as a tranquillizing pause of preparation for a state where they are no longer needed. While we rejoice that they have for so many years been continued to us, we will not forget to be thankful that we have ourselves also been spared for further improvement. How many dangers have been overruled that we might be sheltered. What hosts of enemies have been trodden down that we might live. In how many nameless forms does death beset helpless infancy. From the cradle what an unending procession to the grave. The little hand falls powerless, the eye just learn ing to love the light, retires within its sealed fringes, the tongue that began to lisp the REPORTERS. 29 mother's name is mute, and she, with a sorrow that words have never told, is a weeper over a small, green mound, or, starting at midnight, stretches her empty arms in vain. Yet, from the foes that beset waking life, we have been aved. The child at school, having surmounted the perils of earlier years, is considered compara tively safe. Who says there is safety at any age, if he has heard the funeral prayer by the pale clay so late full of vigor, and seen the school-mates move a mournful train, to the cold bed of the loved sharer in their studies and their sports. Youth is forth, like the morning sun, upon the green hilltops. Its cheek is bloom ; its step, grace ; its voice, melody. ~No care hath touched it, and kneeling love worships it as an idol. Rose there a voice upon the saddened air, " ashes to ashes, dust to dust ! " All is over. Perchance, it was our bosom's friend. Yet we lived, and passed onward. The father and mother are the center of a happy circle. All their powers are in requisi tion to protect, to guide, to foster the children whom God hath given them. They seem essen tial to their welfare, not only for the " life that 30 PAST MERIDIAN. now is," but for that which is to come. Their place is empty. Their voice is silent. To the home of their love they return no more, and the orphans go about the streets. But, have we been permitted to see our nursery plants grow up, and cast a fair shadow ? Have we taken a blossom from their stem, a baby grandchild upon our knee, and felt its velvet fingers moving lovingly amid our silver hairs, and fresh life entering into our veins from its quickly beating heart, or merry laughter ? And, was not this new affection as fond as that of young paternity, as warm with fresh hope, and perchance even more pleasant, in being freed from an anxious burden of accounta bility ? Why should we ever forget to be thankful ? Does the soldier, standing at his own quiet door, having left most of his comrades stark and stiff on fields of warfare, feel no gratitude ? Does the sailor, whose companions sank with the wrecked ship, view with indifference the life boat that rescued him from the whelming wave ? Behold, from the battle and the storm, we have been saved. Wherefore we are thus dis tinguished, it is not for us to say. Yet a weight REPORTERS. 31 of obligation rests on us, to render, in some proportion, according to the benefits we have received, and the risks from which we have been shielded. Are we not in life's school, the highest class ? the longest under training ? and probably the first to be dismissed ? How can we best prove that our tuition has not been in vain ? that He who hath granted us such a protracted term of fatherly discipline, may not pronounce us idle scholars, or profitless stewards of his abound ing mercy 2 So faithfully served by his report ers, we should surely be able to present a good report at last. Sometimes, in seasons of earnest supplica tion, we may have felt as if we could adopt the appeal of the endangered debtor, " Have pa tience with me, and I will pay thee all." The Master hath had patience with us. How have we performed our part of the contract ? CHAPTER IY. Cnstoig of The old man sate in his elbow chair, His locks were thin and gray ; Memory, that early friend, was there, And he in querulous tones did say, " Hast thou not lost, with careless key, Something that I entrusted to thee ? " Her tardy answer was sad and low, " Alas, I fear that it may be so." KNOWLEDGE, in all ages of the civilized world, has been prized and coveted. The cloistered monk made it, of old, a substitute for life's warm charities, and the philosopher of modern times finds in it a more permanent distinction than rank or wealth can bestow. The pleasures of original thought, of deep re search, of high converse with nature or art, are a rich reward for the perseverance they require. THE CUSTODY OF KNOWLEDGE. 33 For them, contemplative and ambitious men have been content " To scorn delights, and live laborious days." To the mind thus elevated, even the bliss of heaven is enhanced by the thought that there its aspirations will be freed from the barriers and obstacles that fettered them here below. A fair, young creature, to whom death had dealt the final stroke, pointed up ward in ecstatic hope, and said, with her ebb ing breath, " There boundless floods of knowledge roll, And pour, and pour upon the soul." To retain, as well as to amass this precious treasure, is a point of immense importance. The " custodia," or military guard of the an cient Romans, led chained to his left hand, the prisoner or captive committed to his charge. Of memory, we are wont to expect similar vigilance. The tendency of advanced age is to impair this custody. Whether the tendency is inevitable, or to be resisted, is an inquiry of serious import. The venerable President Quincy, whose retentive powers, and mental elasticity, sur- 34: PAST MERIDIAN. mount the pressure of time, thus pleasantly alluded to this subject, in a speech on a public occasion in Boston, after he had numbered seventy years : " To an old man, Memory is wont to be an arrant jilt, and is no way delicate in letting him know that, like the rest other sex, she gives young men the preference." The fidelity of Memory is doubtless more entire, for trusts committed to her in early life. She had then fewer objects to divide her atten tion, and more room in her casket to arrange her accumulated stores. She attaches a height ened value to what was gained with toil, so that the axioms and precepts which were deep ened by education seldom escape her. There are some who propose the use of writ ten memoranda, as an expedient for mental re tention. Yet, they serve rather to nourish the sloth of Memory, than to gird her for health ful action. Is it necessary that she should fail with years, unless the action of disease impairs some of those organs through whose agency she has been accustomed to receive im pressions ? The women of our aborigines were the keepers of the archives and legendary lore of THE CUSTODY OF KNOWLEDGE. 35 their tribes. In extreme age, their powers of recollection have been observed to be perma nent and vivid. I saw a female of the Mohe- gan nation, who had numbered one hundred and seventeen years. The skin upon her face and hands was rigid and mottled as the bark of a tree, and from her eyes light had long de parted. Yet, within, the lamp of memory clearly burned. She spoke of the state of her people, in the far-off days of her childhood, of the terror they felt at the powerful and savage Mohawks, of the lineaments of different chief tains who had borne sway, and of the spread ing strength of the whites, who like a great oak-tree overshadowed them. She graphically narrated many circumstances of the visit of her brother, the Rev. Samson Occum, to England, of the kindness that was shown him there by the great and good, the presents that were made him, and spoke especially of the books that he so proudly brought back to his native shores. A highly valued friend of mine, who reached the age of a hundred, whose memory was not confined to the impressions of early years, took sympathetic cognizance of passing events. A perfectly amiable temper kept awake his inter- 36 PAST MERIDIAN. est in all around, and prevented the herrnetical sealing of what only concerned his own early and immediate sphere. That infirmity of the retentive faculties is inseparable from advanced age, seems the gen eral opinion. I would ask if it is a condition of mind, exclusively confined to the old ? I think I have known t'he blooming and the vig orous to forget many things. The young girl may forget to learn her lesson, and the gradu ate of college the lessons that he has learned. The philosopher has been known to forget his own theories, and the eloquent statesman to pay his debts. It is not the exclusive province of gray hairs to forget attainments, resolutions, or promises. There was a gentleman who had the reputation of forgetting the precise hour that had been appointed for his marriage, and was found prolonging a walk, when the bridal party had assembled. Whether this was real forgetfulness, or affectation, I was not given dis tinctly to understand. But, at any rate, he had not lost his memory through age. Consider what untiring efforts are made, to strengthen the retentive powers of the young. Stated lessons through their whole scholastic period, daily recitation and repetition, conversa- THE CUSTODY OF KNOWLEDGE. 37 tion with teachers and fellow-pupils, deepening, riveting, incorporating knowledge with the very structure of the mind. Memory is thus made a prompt, active servant. She is strong through exercise. She has no time to idle away. She i/ is busy, tinging dreams, even when the body sleeps. But we, who have been warned of her dis position to become a deserter, take few precau tions to detain her. Perhaps we feed her on the old, mouldy corn, and neglect to give her a taste of the new harvest. Cognizance of pass ing things, as well as of recorded events, is essential to her healthful condition. I had a friend, God bless every memorial and mention of him, who to the verge of eighty, labored to preserve a naturally strong memory, not only by interest in the concerns of others, but by learning daily, by heart, something from books. Can we not form the habit of acquiring, verbatim, every day, a few lines of poetry, or a single verse from the Bible ? Carit we remember? I suspect the failure to be that of sufficient repetition. No one is interested to hear us. The child, whose first faltering intonations we fostered with parental pride, is immersed in the cares of life, and can 38 PAST MERIDIAN. not regard our fragmentary gleanings. We need not expect our children, or grandchildren, to listen to our mental gatherings, as we have done to theirs. Friends and visitants we would not wish to annoy, and thus the privilege of repetition, on which memory so much depends, is forfeited. An aged gentleman, who was not willing to lose the advantage of deepening the traces of a course of history he was pursuing, devised an ingenious expedient. A promising youth, the expenses of whose education he was kindly defraying, came daily at a regular time to read to him. He employed a portion of this interval in a condensed statement of what he had pe rused in solitude, and was surprised how ten aciously it afterward adhered to remembrance. Thus the pupil unconsciously became a teacher, and the benefactor shared in his own gifts. Why would it not be well for neighbors who are advanced in years, to meet at allotted periods, and converse critically of the authors they are reading, and repeat what they have considered worthy to be committed to mem ory ? If it should seem too much like a school, is there any objection to that ? Why might there not be schools for the aged, as well as THE CUSTODY OF KNOWLEDGE. 39 "schools of the prophets?" Life is a school. " I shall be thankful to die, learning some thing," said a wise man. The truth is, that Memory requires more culture, than the aged are inclined to give her. They take it for granted that she must decay, and antedate the time. They release her from service among the living present, and force her to look only backward, until the sinews of her neck are stiffened. One method of engraving what we do not wish to forget, is. to teach it to others. An auditory of little ones will natur ally hang around the old person who tells them stories. Grave truths, and sacred precepts, may be thus enwrapped in " sugary narrative," with a salutary and lasting influence. One aged per son who had been in the habit of briefly writing in a journal, from early life, found it profitable, in his nightly self-examination, to trace back the same day through many years, recalling the dealings of divine providence with himself and others, and selecting some subject for the little descriptive entertainment his grandchildren had been trained to expect from him every morning. It has been already admitted that passing events are more difficult to be retained by the aged than those which were coeval with their 40 PAST MERIDIAN. prime. Is not the antidote to mingle as much interest and affection as possible with the mov ing drama of life, and its actors ? to entwine around each new generation the links of love ? Memory, thus fed Tby living sympathies, like the Roman captive, nourished at his daughter's breast, would sustain solitude and flourish. " Ah ! when shall all men's good Be each man's care ? and universal love Strike, like a shaft of light, across the land ? " Should it be felt, or feared, that, in spite of every precaution, Memory does indeed grow in ert to intellectual gatherings, or to the routine of daily events, that she records not, as former ly, the dates of history, or the names of men, let the heart breathe upon her. That is Ithuriel's spear. Though her key may have been so long used that some of its wards are worn, Love's hand can turn it. Heart-memories are the most indelible. A woman of more than fourscore, in whom sick ness had prostrated both physical and mental energies, failed to state correctly even the num ber of her children. A friend endeavored to restore the imagery of active years, but in vain. At length, the circumstance of her father's leav- THE CUSTODY OF KNOWLEDGE. 41 ing home to take a soldier's part in the war of our Revolution was accidentally mentioned. It had called forth the deep anxieties of an affec tionate family, when she was yet a young child. The fountain of the heart heaved, light came to her eye, and a tear glittered there, as she mur mured, " I remember yes I remember his kiss when he turned away from the door. It is warm on my cheek now." If Memory is weary, it is safe to sustain her on the arm of that blessed charity which em braces all mankind. The religion whose seat is in the affections, survives when polemic fervor and theological subtleties are lost in oblivion. The instance of the aged clergyman, who forgot his boyhood's friend, the favorite son under whose roof he dwelt, and the darling babe who was daily brought to nestle in his bosom, yet remembered the name of his " dear Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ," is well-known, but always worthy of being repeated. If holy love thus keeps alive the memory, like living waters at its root, when its green leaves are crisp with frost, let us labor to strengthen that love toward God, and likewise toward this fleeting world, precious because it 42 PAST MERIDIAN. is His world, and His hand has placed us as pilgrims in it. Yet, should we have evidence within ourselves that Memory has become vacil lating or infirm, we will be in no haste to pro claim it on the housetops. There are enough who are ready and swift to publish the declen sion, if we admit it ourselves. Rather should we straggle to keep hold of the hand of that old and tried friend as long as possible. We will not expose her weakness, nor say that she has deserted us, while we can touch the hem of her garment. We will not see her go forth, like Hagar from Abraham's tent, without put ting on her shoulder the water-bottle, that she may refresh herself in the wilderness. Though she return no more to the oaks of Mamre, yet, if we are at last so blessed as to meet the an gels who visited there, she will be with them : for, 6'he is never to die. CHAPTER V. of The principle of beauty hath no age, It looketh forth, even though the eye be dim, The forehead frost-crowned, yea, it looketh forth Like holy star, on all whom God hath made. THE beauty of age ! Does any one call me ironical, or point the finger in derision ? Verily, I ani speaking in good faith. Yet, am I not ignorant of what Time takes away. I know that he is prone to steal from the eye its lustre, and from the Parian brow its smoothness. The round cheek falls away at his ploughshare, and the dimples disappear. The hair, no longer abundant, leaves the bald crown or withered temples unshielded. Its hues of chestnut, or auburn, or raven black, vanish, and the complexion, unrelieved by their rich 44 PAST MERIDIAN. contrast, loses its tint of rose or lily, and settles into the trying companionship of iron-grey, or white. The erect form yields its dignity. The vertebral column bends, and the limbs resign their elasticity. Happy are they who are com pelled to call in no aid from crutch or staff, to sustain their footsteps. The beautiful hand loses its plumpness, and bones, and sinews, and jagged veins become protuberant. Even the ear sometimes forfeits its delicate symmetry, and grows elephantine. The voice is prone to forget its harmony ; or, unmodified by its dental allies, " pipes and whistles in its sound." All these deteriorations, and more than these, I admit, yet boldly sustain my argument, the beauty of age. Where is it ? In what does it consist ? Its dwelling is in the soul, and it makes itself visi ble by radiations that reach the soul ; by the smile of benevolence, by limitless good will, by a saintly serenity, by the light of heaven, shining upon the head that is so near it. The smile of Washington, w T hich had always possessed a peculiar charm, gathered force and sweetness from the snows of time. One who was accustomed to meet him in the family, says, " Whenever he gave me one of those smiles, I BEAUTY OF AGE. 45 always felt the tears swelling under my eye lids." What an affecting sketch of the tranquil beauty of age, on which death has set its seal, is given in a letter from Pope, to an artist whom he desires to preserve the likeness of the mother whose declining years were soothed by his filial love and duty. " My poor old mother is dead. I thank God that her death was as easy as her life has been innocent ; and, as it cost her not a groan, or even a sigh, there is still upon her counte nance such an expression of tranquillity, nay, almost of pleasure, that it is amiable to behold. It would afford the finest image of a saint ex pired that painter ever drew ; and, it would be the greatest obligation which that art could bestow on a friend, if you could come and sketch it for me. I hope to see you soon, ere this winter-flower shall have faded. I will defer the interment until to-morrow night. I know you love me, or I could not have written this, or indeed, at such a time, have written at all. Adieu. May you die as happy." At his villa of Twickenham, bought with the first fruits of his translation of Homer's Iliad, the poet sheltered and solaced this vener- 46 PAST MEE1DIAN. able mother. From her honored seat at his fireside, her tender, simple message cheered him amid his toils. " I send you my daily prayers, and I bless you, my deare." More touching and admirable was the interchange of these hal lowed sensibilities than all the melody of his verse. Of the intrinsic beauty of age, I have been so happy as to see some distinguished speci mens. My infant eyes opened upon one. My earliest perceptions of the beautiful and holy were entwined with silver hairs, and I bless God that the fourteen first years of life were nurtured under their serene shadow. The name of Lathrop has been ever dear to me, for her who bore it. A fair countenance, a clear, blue eye, and a voice of music, return to me as I recall the image of that venerated lady, over whom more than threescore and ten years had passed ere I saw the light. Her tall, grace ful form, moving with elastic step through the parterres, whose numerous flowers she superin tended, and her brow, raised in calm meditation from the sacred volume she was reading, were to me beautiful. Many sought to take counsel of her, both for the things of this life and the next, and her words were so uttered as to make BEAUTY OF AGE. 47 them happier as well as wiser. The sorrowful came to be enlightened by the sunbeam that dwelt in her spirit, and the children of want to find bread and a garment ; for, her wealth was the Lord's, and when she cast it into His treas ury, it was with a smile, as if she was herself the receiver. The beauty of the soul was hers, that waxeth not old. Love was in her heart to all whom God had made, a love not ending in blind indulgence, but seeking to elevate them in the scale of existence. Thus it was until eighty-eight years had passed over her ; and when she entered the exalted society for which she had been fitted here, tears flowed widely and freely, as for one in their prime. At her grave I learned my first lesson of a bursting grief that has never been forgotten. Let none say that the aged die unloved or uninourned by the young. It is not so. Another I knew without munificent endow ment of mind, person, or position. Yet had he to the last a beauty that love followed, (my own blessed father !) the beauty of kind re gard to all creatures, and of a perfect tempera ment that never yielded to anger. Hence, the wheels of life ran on without chafing ; and, at the age of eighty-seven, his step was as elastic as 48 PAST MERIDIAN. at twenty, the florid hue of his cheek unchanged, and his bright, brown hair, without a thread of silver. He loved the plants and flowers, and knew how scientifically to promote their wel fare, and to enrich the dark, brown mould with golden fruits, and fair vine-clusters. By these sweet recreations, life was made sweeter, and renewed its pleasures, like the fresh spring- buds, and the bird that returns again to its nest after the winter. Sorrows he had tasted, but they left no cloud, only a deeper tenderness for all who mourned. His religion had no mix ture of coldness toward those who differed from him, no exclusiveness, no bigotry. The frailties of those around, he regarded with gentleness, or with pity. He blamed not, upbraided not. On his loving soul there was no slander-spot. His life was like one long smile, closing with a music-strain. And on it was written, as a fair motto, " the man without an enemy" From the sacred pictures of the departed that hang in the soul's temple, I would fain select another. It is of a friend, Daniel Wads- worth, Esq., who, in early years, suffered from feebleness of constitution, yet, by care and tem perance, so renovated his health, that age was to him better and more vigorous than youth. BEAUTY OF AGE. 49 A strong perception of the "beautiful, both in nature and art, lighted up his mind with a per petual sunbeam. His fine taste went hand in hand with a beautiful philanthropy, so that what he admired he patronized, and what he patronized he spread abroad, that others might . share his enjoyment. The gates of his spacious rural villa were thrown open as a pleasure- ground for all the people ; and, with the treas ures of literature and the arts, he enriched the noble public institute that he founded. The holy truth walked ever by his side ; while independence of thought and action, with regard to men, was mingled with the deepest humility and reverence toward God. To draw merit from obscurity, to sustain honest indus try, to encourage humble virtue, to stimulate the young to higher effort, and silently to re lieve the suffering poor, were his pleasures. And, with these pleasures would sometimes steal over his brow an expression denied to what the world calls beauty, " the set of fea tures, and complexion, the tincture of the skin that she admires." It was the beauty of the soul, looking forth in the life of one, who faith fully, and without ostentation, held his large fortune in stewardship for God and for man. 8 50 PAST MEBIDIAN. By Ms side was a being of an angelic spirit, an accomplished daughter of the second honored Governor Jonathan Trumbull, who strengthen ed all his high resolves, and tenderly divided his sorrows and his joys. Methinks I see her, as if she now sate beside me ; her delicate, upright, symmetrical form, the grace of her movements, the magic of her smile, the cour teous manners, that charmed even the unre fined, the tasteful adaptation of costume to position, and the perfect judgment that led her to choose Best means for wisest ends, and speak right words At fitting times. She was said to have been exceedingly beautiful in youth, but the portraits of that period bore no resemblance to her countenance in advanced years, so much had Time changed its structure. Yet she held a talisman over which he had no power, a goodness, disrobed of self, enchanting all that came within its sphere, and a trusting piety that knew no cloud. Thus she, and the companion of her days, made their childless home attractive to every visitant, until the verge of fourscore, when they entered a mansion not made with hands. She BEAUTY OF AGE. 51 was first summoned, and through a lingering decline, sought strength from above, to adhere as far as possible to her habits of usefulness, and that gentle self-renunciation, which, in pro moting the good of others, forgot its own suffer ings. As her step grew feeble, her brow be came more sweetly serene, and daily she took her seat at the table, and the fireside, that she might cheer him by her presence, whose life of life was in her. The last night that she was with us below, she spent, as usual, some time in her oratory, ere retiring to her chamber for repose. What the angels said to her, in that sacred seclusion, or what she said to her God, we know not ; but, at the midnight hour, they came to bear her to Him. And she was ready. It was not for us to hear their whisper, " Sister spirit, come away ! " but, we saw that they left on the untroubled brow, a smile as calm, as holy, as their own. And we gave glory to God, through our tears, for her blessed example, who had departed this life in His faith and fear. Countless instances might be adduced of the subdued and saintly lustre that marks the sun set of well-spent life. And, it would be pleas- 52 PAST MERIDIAN. ant to me thus to enlarge, for it has been my privilege often to be near, and always to admire the "hoary head found in the way of right eousness." I must indulge myself and my readers with one more example. It occurs in a description from the graceful pen of N. P. Willis, of his own beautiful rural life on the banks of the Hudson. " Our venerable neighbor, of eighty years of age, with his white locks, and face beaming with the benignity of a summer's evening, came back at the first softening of the season. He goes to the city, this beloved neighbor of ours, when the roads become impassable for his tremulous feet ; but, he gains health (as he was saying, with his usual truthful wisdom, to day), not alone from the sidewalks and other opportunities of exercise. In the mental * change of air ' he finds an invigorating tonic (one, by the way, which I am glad of this bright example to assist in recommending to the dispirited invalid, for there is more medicine in it than would be believed, without trial), and he inhales it in the larger field that he finds for the instructive benevolence which forms his occupation in the country. He passes his time in the city in visiting schools, hospitals, prisons, every place where human love and wisdom would look in to gether. He speaks fluently. His voice is singularly sweet and winning; and, with his genial and beautiful expression of countenance, his fine features, and the venerable dignity of his bent form, in its Quaker garb, he is listened to with exceeding interest. Children particularly delight to hang on his words. One great charm, perhaps, is his singular retention of creative- ness of mind, though so old, still continuing to talk as he newly thinks, not as he remembers. The circumstances of the BEAUTY OF AGE. 53 moment, therefore, suffice for a theme, or for the attractive woof on which to broider instruction, and he does it with a mingled playfulness and earnestness which form a most attrac tive as well as valuable lesson. Can any price be put on such an old man, as the belonging of a neighborhood ? Can land scape gardening invent anything more beautiful than such a form daily seen coming through an avenue of trees, his white locks waving in the Avind, and the children running out to meet him with delight ? Friend S strolls to Idlewild on any sunny day, and joins us at any meal, or lies down to sleep or rest on a sofa in the library, and, can painting or statuary give us any semblance, more hallowing to the look and character of a home, more cheering and dignifying to its atmosphere and society ? Among the Arts among the refinements of taste in the culture of Beauty, in America let us give Old Age its pre eminence ! The best arm-chair by the fire-side, the privileged room, with its warmest curtains and freshest flowers, the prefer ence and the first place in all groups and scenes in which Age can mingle such is the proper frame and setting for this price less picture in a home. With less slavery to business, and bet ter knowledge and care of health, we should have more Old Age in our country : in other words, for our homes there would be more of this most crowning beauty." Youth hath its fascinating smile, Its cheek of rose-bud ray ; They charm the admiring eye awhile, Then fade, and fleet away ; But Age, with heaven-taught wisdom crown'd, That waits its Father's will, And walks in love with all around, Hath higher beauty still. Are not the changes in man's life, like those of the day and the seasons, beautiful ? Morn 54 PASTMEEIDIAN. is fair, but we would not always have it morn ing. Noon is brilliant, but the wearied senses crave repose, as from the excitement of an Arc tic summer. Evening, with her placid moon, through the chequering branches, disguises every blemish, bathes the simplest architecture in a flood of silver light, and makes the vine- clad cottage and the antique column alike beautiful. Even though it should chance to be winter, yet shrink not to come forth, with a heart to admire and love ; for, through the bare trees, the silver queen of heaven looks down more clearly, and the untrodden snow-hills rejoice in her beam, and, amid the pure, blue ether, the stars multiply, each giving secret sweet-voiced welcome to the soul that is soon to rise above their spheres. CHAPTEE VI. " And now, behold, your tender nurse, the air, And common neighbor, that, with order due, Whene'er you breathe, doth in accordance move, Now in, now out, in time and measure true ; And, when you speak, so well the art she loves, That, doubling oft, she doth herself renew ; For, all the words that from your lips repair Are but the countless tricks and turnings of the air." SIR JOHN DAVIES. " A mighty quaint old motto" do I hear any one say? Well, its quaintness does not destroy its meaning, and we need not take it upon ourselves to contemn it, because it hap pens to be old. Its author, Sir John Davies, who was born some three hundred years since, was a very respectable personage. He knew what he was about, and Queen Elizabeth, who was shrewd enough generally to know what she was about, 56 PAST MERIDIAN. placed him in posts of importance and respon sibility, notwithstanding he was a poet. An able lawyer was he, as well as a man of talents, and promoted to the office of lord chief justice of the king's bench, under James the First. He presents himself to us, as talking about the a&>, whose various ministries he seems to have studiously comprehended. Indeed, the affinity of all the elements with the comfort and welfare of man is beautiful. One inspires his infant frame with vitality, one warms it, one refreshes it ; and in the last dream less sleep, another mournfully spreads a turf cov ering, sprinkled with flowers. Each in their turns have won eloquent praise. Zoroaster and his followers deified the sub tle Fire, in which they recognized the great vivifying principle of the universe. Pliny, and other ancient philosophers, applauded the per vading love of the Earth for her offspring, which, like a watchful mother, fed and clothed the creature of the dust, and folded his latest sorrow in her bosom. Water has been the fa vorite of the moderns, who have discovered in it new affinities with health, and almost uncon trollable agencies in the realm of nature. Our own simple remarks will be confined to the re- AIR. 57 maining " ministering particle " of air, which, though not subjugated by man to such count less varieties of servitude, he is dependent on for every breath that he draws. Earth he bur dens with palaces and pyramids, the pent fires do his bidding, and his ships rule the moun tain-wave. But he inflates a balloon, and the storm-cloud overturns it, and, perhaps, takes the life of the headlong aeronaut. In his rev erie, he builds a castle on the air, and where is it? Yet, this imperious and impervious element, the master of his life, how varied and earnest are its ministrations for his welfare. If he will systematically combine it with active exercise, it gives him strength and vigor. Of this, the advanced in years seldom are sufficiently aware. They suffer lassitude to steal over them, till, like the sleeper among Alpine snows, they arise no more. A daily walk or drive in the open air, preserves energy, and quickens the tide of sym pathy for the living world. The mother country gives us, in this respect, good examples, if we w^ould but heed them. Her young infants are sent forth in the fresh morning air. Her little ones gambol in the lawns and parks. Her ladies are great pedes- 3* 58 PAST MEEIDIAN. trians, fearless of rain or cold. Her gentlemen, however burdened with important concerns, always find time for muscular action. Even those who have reached a patriarchal age, often persevere in equestrian exercise, that elegant form of recreation, which, more than any other, keeps alive the consciousness of manly power and dignity. I have seen, in my native land, some strik ing instances of the protracted power and en joyment of this invigorating exercise. Among childhood's unfading sketches of my native place, is the figure of a beautiful old man of eighty-four, Dr. Joshua Lathrop, of Norwich, Conn., who, until the brief illness that preceded dissolution, took daily equestrian excursions, withheld only by very inclement weather. Me thinks, I clearly see him now ; his small, well-knit, perfectly upright form, mounted upon his noble, lustrous black horse, readily urged to an easy canter, his servant a little in the rear. I see the large, fair, white wig, with its depth of curls, the smartly cocked hat, the rich buckles at knee and shoe, and the nicely plaited ruffles, over hand and bosom, that in those days desig nated the gentleman of the old school. Re peated rides in that varied and romantic region, AIR. 59 were so full of suggestive thought to his reli gious mind, that he was led to construct a good little book, in dialogue form, on the works of nature, and nature's God, entitled, "The Fa ther and Son," which we younglings received with great gratitude from its kind-hearted au thor : juvenile works not being then so nu merous as to be slightly prized. His quick, elastic step in walking, his agility in mounting and dismounting his steed, as well as his calm, happy temperature, were remarkable, and a model for younger men. Yet, it is not necessary thus to turn to the far-off past for examples of perseverance and grace in this exhilarating exercise. But a few years since, I saw the venerable Colonel E. Moss White, of Danbury, Connecticut, riding very firmly and gracefully on horseback when considerably past fourscore. It was on the occasion of the imposing ceremonies connected with the public erection of a monument to the memory of General David Wooster, the revolu tionary patriot and martyr. Amid thousands thronging the streets, he was observed passing and re-passing, at an early hour, to the lofty Cemetery-Hill, engaged in preliminary arrange ments for the splendid masonic rites that were 60 PAST MERIDIAN. to mark the burial of the fallen brave. As the long procession moved on, with civic and mili tary pageantry, his spirited animal took fright at the unfurling of a banner, when the octoge narian rider (to whom he was a stranger, hav ing given up his own horses for the services of the day) managed him with a serene self-pos session and perfect skill, which few men in the prime of their strength could have surpassed or equalled. In habits of activity he persevered to a very advanced age, his life being pro tracted amid affectionate descendants to the verge of ninety. " Always cheerful was he," said an intimate observer, happy at his work, happy amid his farm, happy in his home, with children and friends around him. He bore the very impress of contentment on his bland and beaming countenance. I have a framed medal lion of three photographic likenesses taken of him, at the respective ages of thirty, sixty, and eighty-seven the last of which I consider the most beautiful, as bearing most decidedly an ex pression of a goodness and happiness, which were confirmed by time. The late Rev. Dr. Kendal, of Massachusetts, who nearly completed the period of ninety years, persevered in that active out-door exer- AIR. 61 cise which, contributes to vigor and energy. Driving himself, at one time, several miles from home, the reins chanced to part, and the horse became unmanageable. It being in the coun try, none were near to render assistance. The venerable gentleman, leaping from the carriage, over the wheels, seized the horse by the head, while at a brisk movement, and subjected him to control. It was pleasant to see a feat of such activity, so admirably performed, at so ad vanced a period of life. To those not inured to equestrian exercise, a daily walk in the open air, not so far extend ed as to involve weariness or fatigue, is salu tary, even in extreme old age. To connect these excursions with a definite object, either the cherishing of friendly intercourse, the sight of an interesting prospect, edifice, or institution, or the dispensing some comfort to the abode of poverty, adds decidedly to their happy physical influence. Of Isaac T. Hopper, the benevolent Quaker, who, till his eighty-first year, continued his daily researches through the streets of New York, on errands of mercy, with such proverbial activity, it was said by his biographer, Mrs. Child, that " he would scarcely allow the dr;- 62 PAST MERIDIAN. vers to stop for him, at ascending or descending from their vehicles. Few ever passed him without asking who he was ; for, not only did his primitive dress, broad-brimmed hat, and antique shoe-buckles, attract attention, but the beauty and benevolence of his face, were sure to fix the eye of ordinary discernment. He was a living temperance lecture, and those who desire to preserve good looks, need not ask a more infallible recipe than that sweet temper and active, overflowing benevolence, which made his countenance so pleasing to all." Peregrine White, the first-born Saxon in New England, the lone baby of Cape Cod, who opened his eyes ere the tossing Mayflower touched Plymouth Rock, trod with firm step, until his death at eighty-four, the sands of Marshfield, taking, with unshrinking breast, deep draughts of the bleak sea-air. His eldest daughter, Sarah, the wife of Mr. Thomas Young, of Scituate, Mass., inherited his hardi hood and love of the open air, and retained an unusual degree of health and mental activity, till the advanced age of ninety-two. Peregrine White, over whose honored re mains a monument is soon to be raised, served the colony with fidelity, both in civil and niili- AIE. 63 tary offices. " He continued," say the ancient records, " vigorous and of a comely aspect to the last ; " battling the sharp breezes of a rock- bound shore, while monarch after monarch, reared in the luxury of palaces, fell from the throne of the parent realm. King James, the pedant, found a tomb, King Charles at Whitehall bled ; Stout Cromwell held a twelve years' rule, And slumbered with the dead ; The second Charles, with gibe and jest, His royal realm survey'd ; The second James, in panic haste, Fled from the wreck he made ; William and Mary, hand in hand, Their sceptre's sway sustain'd ; Queen Anne, the last of Stuart's band, In pomp and splendor reign'd : Seven sovereigns, from old Albion's throne, Stern Death, the spoiler, swept, While still his course, erect and firm, New England's patriarch kept. Frequent open communion with the atmos pheric air, if not an absolute necessity of our being, seems an essential condition of vigorous health. The pursuits that promote that inter course, such as horticultural, or floricultural, it is, therefore, desirable to cultivate. On inquiring for an aged man, at his door, a bright-eyed boy said, 64 PAST MERIDIAN. " My grandfather has gone out for his morning walk. I love to have him go, be cause he always comes back pleasant and happy." The child had gotten the true philosophy of the case. We met the silver-haired friend, returning with a freshened cheek, and a smile, as if he rejoiced in the sweet air, and in Him who gave it. A kind word had he ever for all, and so he said cheerfully, " I have just set up a banner, to wave in the breeze, when I am dead." It seems he had been transplanting a shade- tree, of a species often destined to attain con siderable size. ." The soil was not congenial," he added, " so I had it removed for an area of three or four feet, and stepped into the pit myself, to place the roots and delicate fibres at ease in their new bed. I sprinkled, at first, the pulverized earth and rich compost over them, while my man added water gradually, treading down the surface firmly, as much as to say to the new comer, ' keep at home,' and finishing with a cav ity around the trunk, as a casket to hold such pearl-drops as the clouds see fit to give." Perceiving that his practical remarks were A IE. 65 listened to with interest, he kindly proceed ed : "I caused the body and principal boughs to be bathed in soap-suds, and rubbed with a coarse cloth, to refresh it hydropathically after the trial of leaving its old home ; and before the high winds of winter come, shall have stones placed around, to keep the roots from being shaken and troubled. My wife takes an interest in these things. I love to have her hold the tree, when I transplant it. I fancy it is more likely to grow, and get a blessing, if her hand has been on it. We planted a tree at the birth of all our children. Perhaps we shall yet set out a grove before we die." The animated countenance of the aged speaker reminded me of the enthusiasm with which Sir Walter Scott used to expatiate on the " exquisite pleasures of planting." The greater part of the noble trees at Barley- Wood were placed there by the hand of the venerable Mrs. Hannah More ; and a cabinet-table, which she prized, and often pointed out to the atten tion of visitants, was inlaid with small diamond- shaped pieces of wood, from different trees of her own rearing. Those who in early life re joiced in the culture of flowers, their own em- 66 PAST MERIDIAN. blem of hope and beauty, might with propriety, in later years, transfer this care to the nurture of fruit and shade trees, those types of bounty and beneficence ; acceptable parting gifts to mankind, and blessings to the nested birds, " that sing among the branches." To those whose infirmities preclude the pleasure of active exercise out of doors, there still remain restricted forms of fellowship with the renovating air, which it is important to secure. The invalid lady who perseveres as far as possible in her daily ride, notwithstanding lassitude or debility tempts to the indulgence of repose, does not lose her reward. The blessed element, thus solicited, sustains the worn frame, and sweeps away many of the morbid fancies and groundless fears that disease engenders. A lady, who was not able to bear the fa tigue of systematic riding, told me she had maintained some degree of vigor, and, perhaps, resisted pulmonary tendencies, by a brief yet systematic intercourse with the morning air, for a short time, through her window. Opening it, and, if the current proved too fresh, wrapping herself in a shawl, she inhaled deep draughts, holding her breath until the minute vessels of AIK. 67 the lungs were saturated with air, and then casting it off, by throwing out the arms to ex pand the chest. Mrs. Emma Willard, of Troy, in her re markable treatise, " On the Motive Powers that produce the Circulation of the Blood," thus de scribes a course by which she had been enabled so long to persist in the preparation of those excellent works which have given her a high rank among American writers. After speaking of her care to preserve an equal and moderate degree of warmth, during the cold seasons, she says : " In the morning, I usually exercised about an hour, in ac cordance with some housekeeping habits. During the day, I took exercise once in two hours. Letting down the upper sash, and facing the current of fresh air, I began moderately, increas ing my exercise until it became, for a few moments, violent ; stepping backward and forward, to keep my face to the win dow, and moving my arms in a manner to expand the chest. Then, as the quick, deep breathing came on, and the inspira tions of air were as refreshing as water from a cool spring in summer, I checked my exercise to give full play to the respira tory organs, and, when I had breathed the pure air till I was satisfied, closed the window, sat down, and wrapped my cloak around me, to make, for a few minutes longer, breathing my chief employ. The additional garment kept the heightened temperature which exercise had given from passing off by evap oration, and I sat down to my writing, with fresh blood in my brain and hand, and with a warmth far more genial than that of a furnace heat. After dinner, I ' slept awhile,' and then em- 68 PAST MERIDIAN. ployed myself in reading ; and, after tea, completed the old rhyme by ' walking a mile.' In the evening, I thus found my self as vigorous for writing as in the morning, and often wrote several hours before retiring." As the result of this system, she states that, at the end of three years and a half, during which, especially in the winter, she labored from twelve to fourteen hours a day, in study and writing, she had better health than at the commencement of these severe toils, it was a source of satisfaction to her friends that, at nearly seventy, she should have made her sec- ond tour in Europe, with a bright spirit, and much of the lingering comeliness of her early prime, cheered also by that appreciation in for eign lands, which she has so well merited in her own. Gratitude is also her due, as a pioneer in the noble field of education, where she entered early, and continued long. Thousands of her own sex, who have enjoyed the benefit of her instructions, and those of her amiable sister, Mrs. A. H. L. Phelps, a resident of Baltimore, and likewise a successful authoress, proudly cherish their memories, and form, as it were, a line of posts through almost our whole extent of country where, in travelling, they are loving ly welcomed, as honored guests. AIR. 69 Air, whose free embrace greetetli every one wlio comes into the world, should be welcomed until they go out of it. Painful contrast has taught its value to the pining sufferer in the fever-wards of some crowded hospital, and to the pale prisoner in his grated cell. The cap tives in the hideous " donjon-keeps " of the feudal times, or the wretched victims in the Black Hole, at Calcutta, terribly tested the worth of that gift to which we are too often culpably indifferent. I hope to be excused for any minute or com mon-place detail, which may have occurred in this chapter, and for having written con amore of what has seemed to me an important adjunct, if not an essential element of that priceless pos session, mens sana, in corpore sano? But this subtle element of air, so powerful over our physical and mental organization, hath it aught to do with moral structure, or spiritual welfare ? Yes modified by eloquence, it rules the multitude of minds ; swelling into music, it stirs up passionate admiration ; wrought into words of compassion, it heals the broken in heart ; breathing from the soul of piety, it quickens the souls of others, as by the spirit of the Lord. 70 PAST MEKIDIAN. Whom see we on yonder couch ? One whose work on earth is finished. Air is about to forsake him. The lungs collapse. He is lifeless. Hath he then taken final leave of the air ? No. In the form of words here uttered, air sliaped into sound, in the form of deeds springing from those words, air shaped into action, it shall meet him at the judgment. Let us, therefore, dear friends, as long as we are dwellers in the body, beware how we use this wondrous element of air, lest that on which we have never laid our hand, should fearfully confront us, when the " books are opened, and the dead, small and great, stand before God." CHAFTEE VII. Domestic " This is the place. Stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy Past The things that once have been : For, Past and Present here unite, Beneath Time's flowing tide, Like footprints hidden by a brook, But seen on either side." LONGFELLOW. GEKMANY, where domestic anniversaries are the most pleasantly cherished, is distinguished by a healthful growth of domestic happiness. Recurrences of the marriage-day, of the births of children, grandchildren, and especially of the silver-haired grandparents, are welcomed with fond and fervent congratulations. In that country, the Golden Bridal, as it is called, or the fiftieth return of the marriage-day, is marked by ceremonies peculiarly striking and PAST MERIDIAN. national. Preparations for a domestic festival are made, and the rooms richly adorned with flowers. The venerable pair, arrayed in their best garments, and surrounded by children and near relatives, receive visitors and congratula tions as if about to begin life anew. This senti ment pervades, in some measure, the whole en tertainment. Wedding gifts are brought, and, mingled with them, are notes of love and good wishes, bursting forth, as the German heart is wont to do, into strains of poetry. Mr. R. S. Willis has thus graphically de scribed a scene of this nature, which he was permitted to witness. " The venerably youthful pair sate side by side, in two great arm-chairs, the very picture of mellow and serene old age. Those capacious chairs were also among the gifts, having been exquisitely embroidered by fair hands. Suspended above them hnng their portraits, taken, indeed, at a much earlier period, but which seemed not half so beautiful, in their youthful linea ments, as the venerable heads which now, in the calm Indian summer of life, rose beneath them. From two large vases below, on either side of the portraits, sprang two vigorous shoots of living ivy, ascending and enwreathing them, and forming a kind of triumphal arch over the couple beneath, whose accomplishment of fifty years of such unclouded, exem plary married life, might well be regarded as a triumph, and as such be celebrated." Then follows an enumeration of the pres- DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 3 ents, many of which were costly, for the aged bridegroom, having been a composer and teach er of music, had instructed some pupils of wealth and rank, who vied with each other, on this occasion, in testifying their affectionate regard. A wreath of laurel was thrown over the snowy locks of the patriarch, and one of myrtle placed on the head of his companion, by a fair young girl of the Rhine, an affianced bride, who, in her kiss, besought the blessing of one who had so long beautified that " holy estate," upon which she, as a novice, was about to enter. After the dinner, where two long tables were filled by descendants and guests, a depu tation of the musical pupils assembled in an adjoining apartment, to cheer, by the melody of voice and instrument, the heart of their old master, and his friends. " No sooner," continues the narrator, " had he recognized the performers, and the tones of his own early devotional music, than, lifting the little velvet cap which always covered his head, his silver locks floating out, and raising his glistening eyes to God, to whom those solemn strains were addressed, he seemed for a moment overcome with gratitude to Him." In our own country, these household eras are winning more frequent regard, though with less of romantic accompaniment. John Quincy PAST MEEIDIAN. Adams, the last summer that he passed on earth, celebrated in his own sacred home-circle, the Golden Wedding ; an epoch which was also reached by his ow~n venerable parents, walking hand in hand toward that clime where " love is indestructible." An instance of the quiet observance of the sixtieth anniversary I have heard described a rare occurrence in this world of mortality. The age of both the parties, Mr. and Mrs. Se- bor, of Middletown, exceeded fourscore, yet their forms were unbowed ; there was even a lingering of early comeliness, and that smile of the spirit which gathers depth and meaning from long knowledge of this life, and firm hope of a better. They had entered, in the bloom of youth, the conjugal relation, and " commended it in the sight of all men," by an example of steadfast affection. Three generations sur rounded them with loving reverence, and, in the arms of one bright-eyed young mother, was the germ of a fourth, a rose-bud within a rose. Among the antique things which w^ere pre served and exhibited, were the small salver with which they commenced housekeeping, and the very same little cups of transparent china, in which the young wife, threescore years be- DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. fore, had poured tea at her first hospitalities. Warm words of greeting cheered this festival, and a fair table of refreshments, while another was spread with love-tokens, and gifts of friend ship. Among them was a simple offering, yet of singular significance ; a small parallelogram of the purest w r hite marble, wrought into a double watch-case, and surmounted in the cen tre by a cross of the same material. In the cavities, lined with crimson velvet, reposed the two watches of the aged pair, the golden links of their chains intertwined and enwreathing the cross. There were the monitors and meas ures of time, long used, but soon to be needed no more, and the symbols of their own undy ing love, clasping the prop that could never fail or forsake it. Heartfelt cheerfulness marked this occasion, yet nothing that could war with the prayer and hymn which began and closed it, for so many of the descendants shared in the piety of their honored ancestors, that such worship was in unison with their aspirations and joys. Six ty years to have walked hand in hand, helpful and loving, on their appointed way over moun tain and fiood, and through gardens wherein were sepulchres, lending the shoulder to each PAST MERIDIAN. other's burdens, and keeping God's sunbeam bright in the soul ; to have impressed the precepts of a Redeemer on the young creatures who came into life under the shadow of their tree of love, and to become themselves more and more conformed to " the example of His great humility," was a victory that might not only be admired on earth, but approved in Heaven. An interesting celebration of the sixtieth anniversary of the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Wright of East Hampton, Mass., took place on the 14th of January, 1856. Truly a winter's day was it, cold, icy, keen, but with a pure exhilarating atmosphere. The evening lamps glittered early, and at six o'clock commenced the festive scene. The aged couple were in health and happi ness. The memory of God's great goodness to them sate on the smile with which they wel comed kindred and friends. Four sons were there, with their households. The fifth, whose family altar was amid the snows of Wiscon sin, cheered their hearts by an affectionate epistle. A few invited coevals and neighbors gather, with their congratulations. But what vener able form enters, with such a saintly smile ? DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 77 All cluster around him. It is the same man of God who, sixty years before, had pronounced the nuptial benediction, the Rev. Dr. Williston, whose ninety-third winter sits freshly on him. Still he lifts his hand, and blesses them in the name of the Lord. Four of the guests at the original wedding are present at this commemoration. Two more survive, but denizens of a distant State. It was a touching part of the scene when the eldest son, well known as the former Principal of the Wil liston Seminary, gave utterance to his feelings of gratitude and reverence for his aged parents, interweaving appropriate facts and circum stances that absorbed the attention of every hearer. Happy and forcible remarks were familiarly made by others, on the beauty of bringing forth fruit in old age, and of that filial piety which has kept the blessed commandment with prom ise. " Then the young rose up and praised the aged, as having done well in their generation ; and the aged replied by modest disclaimer, in sisting that they had not done so well but that the young should do far better, following more closely the Higher Pattern, even Christ." When the season allotted to refreshments 78 PAST MERIDIAN. arrived, there were seen seated around the board of distinguished honor six personages, whose united ages amounted to four hundred and eighty years. That table of ancients ! What countless memories were there embodied, what treasures of experience, what wealth of Christian hope. Sweet and solemn was the voice imploring a blessing and rendering thanks for that rich repast : the voice of that beloved, white-haired minister, soon after called to a more exalted and eternal banquet, The closing exercises of this cheering and rational festivity were reading from the Scrip tures, prayer, and the Doxology in the -devout " Old Hundred," swelled by every voice. Then came the kind parting wishes, and the separa tion at nine, that hour wisely set apart by the early fathers of our country for drawing home ward every wandering wing to its rest, and folding it in supplication that hallowed the nightly repose. Rare was this sixtieth anniversary, not only in itself, but for the number of the aged there convened, their comfortable health, their possession of muscular activity and men tal vigor, their sympathy in social feeling and the faith of the Gospel, their Christian DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 79 rejoicing in their children and their childrens' children. It has been mentioned, that Music bore a part in this varied festival. The melodies, so often overlooked in modern psalmody, were summoned, and many an aged heart thrilled with early, tender associations, at the full tones of " St. Martin's " and Lenox," " Majesty " and " Greenville." Among the hymns adapted to these antique tunes, was the following one, composed for the occasion. Three times twenty ! Three times twenty ! How those years have sped away, Since the wreath of young affection, Brightened on our Bridal Day ; Like a shadow o'er the mountain, Like a billow on the main, Like a dream, when one awaketh, Tinted both with joy and pain. Three times twenty ! Three times twenty ! While the years their circles wove, Smiling infants sprang around us, Scions from our Tree of Love ! And, with patriarchal pleasure, Still another race we view, And, in their unfolding promise, Seem to live our lives anew. Three times twenty ! Three times twenty ! He who gave our marriage vow 80 PAST MERIDIAN. Hallowing it with prayer and blessing, Cheers us by his presence now : Faithful Pastor ! here we greet thee May the flock that heard thy voice, Near the great Chief Shepherd meet thee, And forevermore rejoice. Three times twenty ! Three times twenty I Many a friend of earlier days, To a higher sphere translated, Swells the angel hymn of praise ; And the glorious hope we treasure, Side by side with them to stand, Whensoever our Father's wisdom Warns us to that Better Land ! I had long been desirous of being present at a golden wedding, and was much gratified to receive an invitation to one, in my fail- native city of Norwich, in May, 1862. The charms of a flowery spring, and the romantic surrounding scenery, conspired to heighten the attractions of the event. General and Mrs. William Williams were the givers of this fes tivity ; and that she should have been my schoolmate, and early friend, added an impulse of tenderness to the pleasure with which the in vitation was accepted. The gifts of Flora, in bouquets, vases, fes toons, and arches, decorated the apartments of the spacious mansion. The wealth of neighbor- DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 81 ing green-houses, with those from New York, was poured forth to overflowing. A magnificent pyramid, composed entirely of white camelias, several feet in height, and surmounted by a stately callae, stood upon a frame, in the post of honor, by the side of the principal group. The bridegroom, who remarkably retained health, erectness, and vigor, irradiated by his courteous greeting and amiable smile all who approached ; while his companion, having been but seventeen at the time of their marriage, with still unfrosted hair, graceful form, and ele gant costume, received their guests in the most agreeable and queenly manner. The reception was to be from four until eleven, and about an hour after the arrivals commenced, two clergymen came forward, one of whom uttered a devout prayer, and the other a brief and appropriate address. He remarked that in the ecclesiastical record of his predecessor, the Rev. Joseph Strong, he found the announcement of a marriage solem nized by him on the 13th of May, 1812, between William Williams and Harriette Peck. That many of those now present could witness that the union had been eminent for happiness, hos pitality, and a consistent example of the Chris- 82 PAST MEEIDIAN. tian virtues. Not unmarked, indeed, by the dis cipline of a wise God, who saw fit to remove from them both their children the fair boy just entering into life, and the noble, distin guished man, in his prime of days, on whom the parents were beginning to lean. Yet had He given them the great gift of charity, to guide, educate, and love the children of others, and by unwearied benefactions to missions, churches, schools, and other forms of benevolence, find, in the free distribution of their large wealth, solace for their sorrows, and confirmation of the assur ance, that it is " more blessed to give than to receive." A portion of this address might have been somewhat trying to those who, in their benevo lent deeds, had ever shunned the applause of men, yet seemed a fitting ascription of praise to Him who had prompted and palpably crowned their bounties with His blessing. After these religious exercises, the numerous guests, gathered from distant townships and different States, enjoyed the pleasures of con versation, of reunion, or recapitulation, prome naded through the parlors and halls, filled with the incense of flowers, or participated in an en tertainment, where all that taste, luxury, and DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 83 liberality could suggest, were presented in theii most elegant forms, with the exception of aughl that might intoxicate, which was, from princi ple, omitted. No gifts had been anticipated by the munifi cent authors of this festivity, yet several tables were covered by a trousseau seldom surpassed in richness and variety. Many of the articles were peculiarly beautiful and costly the great er part being modifications of that precious metal which gave appellation to the festival. Goblets, vases, boxes, card-receivers, fancy bas kets, and ornaments for the person, were inter spersed with rare volumes, bearing on their covers inscriptions in letters of gold. Two groups of statuettes, illustrating the Silver and Golden Weddings, won admiration from all. In the first, the principal figures, though evi dently past their prime, were still symmetrical and beautiful. The second marked definitely the lapse of years, but with that expression of deepened tenderness and mutual trust, that touch ingly enforced the hallowed sentiment and purport of heaven-ordained wedlock. The enjoyment of the younger part of the assemblage had not been overlooked by their kind and thoughtful entertainers, who wisely 84 PAST MEKIDIAN. kept alive their sympathies for them, as well as for older friends. To a very large room in the upper story, tastefully enwreathed with flags and festoons, the grand piano had been con veyed, and to its enlivening music many bright and fair creatures were seen gracefully timing their movements. Becoming, yet not showy costumes, refine ment of manners, and such an exuberance of beauty marked this blooming assemblage, that I viewed with pleasure, not without some mix ture of pride, this new generation in my loved birthplace. Having the privilege of being a guest for a few days previous to and after this celebration, I had an opportunity of witnessing the energy with which the lady of the mansion superintended and rendered personal aid in every arrange ment, however laborious or minute. Knowing that, in addition to these fatigues, she had stood up for seven hours during the duties of the re ception, and had not retired until past mid night, I supposed that some extra indulgence in sleep would be the natural result. But what w r as my surprise to see her up among the first in the house, preparing and sending donations of fruit, flowers, cakes, and other delicacies, to DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 85 the sick, or those who had unavoidably been withheld from the acceptance of her invitation, merging in such sweet acts of benevolence all sensation of fatigue. This admirably managed celebration seemed one of those few prominent events in human life, in which there was nothing to regret, either of omission or commission. Much happiness was imparted the old and young rejoiced to gether and separated, with higher respect for the dignity and felicity that may attend the protracted union of loving and pious hearts. And I have been also favored with an invi tation to a diamond wedding, which had long been my object of ambition. It was held in New Britain, one of the most pleasant and prosperous townships of Connecti cut, on a bright, cheering day, near the close of autumn. The parties were Mr. and Mrs. Eman- uel Russell, the same who are mentioned, without name, in the chapter on the " Privi leges of Age," as enjoying and imparting so much happiness in the retirement of their sweet cottage-home. This remarkable anniversary was celebrated in the neighboring mansion of their son, whose spacious apartments and exten sive grounds were better adapted to the recep- 86 PAST MEEIDIAN. tion of guests and accommodation of carriages. The elegant rooms and halls were adorned with flowers, and tables heaped with tokens of re gard for the venerated bridegroom and bride. Among the pictures upon the walls, wa.s one ingeniously constructed by her own hands, of the hair of all her descendants, where buds, leaves, and wreaths were curiously and gracefully intertwined. At its base, were two fair, sym metrical morning-glories, formed from the snowy locks of her husband, which, she said, with a pleasing naivete, were " the most beautiful of all." As they stood, side by side, surrounded by children and grandchildren, so healthful and comely, it was difficult to realize that three score years of conjugal life, with all their bur dens and vicissitudes, had indeed passed over them. It was interesting to note the occasional varying of color on the still fair cheek of the aged matron, as the address of the clergyman recounted the changes, of sorrow or of joy, with which the wise providence of God had diversi fied their long and loving union. Music, social intercourse, varied refresh ments, and a superbly-spread dinner table, marked the festival, which, with thoughtful at tention to the comfort and proprieties of ad- DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 87 vanced years, terminated as daylight departed. Ere the time of separation, the following stan zas, prepared for the occasion, were read aloud, in a spirited manner, by the venerable gentle man, the centre of a listening group. There's a wondrous spell of beauty In the smooth, unwrinkled face, The maiden's eyes of sparkling ray, The brow and cheek where ringlets play, And the form of fairy grace ; Fond love, by admiration led, Is bent to win the prize An exulting boon for a young man, friends, If not for the old and wise. But the love that Time hath tested By change of joy and woe, Though the lip may have lost its ruby hue, And the cheek resigned the peach- bloom dew, An'd the tresses turn'd to snow, Transcends as far the fleeting flame That dazzled and blinded the young, As the diamond's lustre surpasses The charcoal from whence it sprung. The impressive manner and intonation of the ancient reader will not soon be forgotten by his auditors, who departed with gratitude for the courtesy and delightful entertainment accorded them. Among his accomplishments and sources of 88 PAST MERIDIAN. amusement for the leisure with which serene Age closed a life of activity, was the power of constructing delicate articles for use or orna ment, nicely carved with the penknife, and ex quisitely polished. A curving ear trumpet, adapted to the enfeebled hearing of his wife, he invented and executed, saying, with a touching tenderness, that her " wrinkles were dearer to him than her roses." I was favored by him with the gift of a night lamp, and small writing apparatus, which, with a vase of classic aspect and symmetry, made by his taste ful companion, adorn a small table, where speci mens of the skill and continued industry of my octogenarian friends are exhibited. Those from his hand now assume a mourn ful interest, from the fact that he has recently been removed from us, full of days and of honors. A gentleman of the old school, of strong and original mind, educated when honesty and integrity were the pole-stars of social intercourse his reliability in all the obligations and du ties of life, his fearless truth, his fervent affec tions, his earnest piety, constituted a type of character that leaves behind strong remem brances, and could never have been more pre- DOMESTIC FESTIVALS. 89 cious as an example than at the present day. It would seem as if his image and cherished traits had been all the more deeply riveted, by the circumstance of this genial celebration, which we have endeavored to portray. HYMN, EOR THE SIXTIETH MARRIAGE ANNIVERSARY. O, diamonds from Golconda's mine, Though sought by prince and peer, How poor ye are, compared with this, That sheds its lustre here ; That now, for threescore changeful years, Hath made our home so bright, And, shrined within our heart of hearts, Enriched us, day and night ; That sent a purer radiance forth If sorrow dimmed our sky, Still borrowing brilliancy from a clime Where love can never die ; That brighter grows when seasons fade, When summer fleets away, And now, to winter's lengthening eve Imparts a hallowed ray. O Thou ! the giver of this gem Which on our breast we wear, We praise Thee for Thy boundless grace, Thy kind, protecting care. 90 PAST MERIDIAN. Still may Thy blessing on our race Descend, with influence free, And bind our children's children's souls In pious trust to Thee ; That, entering through the pearly gates Which open wide for those Who by their Saviour's precepts walk, And in His faith repose, Our band, without a missing link, May in that temple join, Where the unclouded Sun of Love Forevermore shall shine. CHAPTEE VIII. This is your birfch-day, friend, I trow : May blessings o'er your pathway flow, And blessings in your heart abide, Higher to swell its grateful tide With all the melodies of praise To Him the Giver of your days ; And may this opening year, whose morn Like an auspicious babe is born, Bring gladness in its waking eyes, Give added fitness for the skies, And in true goodness, joy and rest, Be of all your life the best. VERY likely the first person who took note of a birthday was a mother. Who, like her, would so thrillingly remember the introduction into life of a helpless being, nourished by her own ? who every week and month, by new de velopments and endearments, had grown more beautiful and more beloved ? Even if the lim its of the astronomical year had been unfixed 92 PAST MERIDIAN. or unknown to her, would she not say at the peeping forth of the first grass-blade, or at the budding of the rose, or the whitening of the harvest, or the siftings of the snow-flake, " This was the time my baby came among us," and fold it to her bosom, with warmer rapture ? Yet, what might have originated in the im pulse of nature and its affections, early became a custom among the nations. Heroes and con querors celebrated their own advent, though the down-trodden people might have yielded but enforced and heartless concurrence. A hal lowed Record teaches us that, more than 1700 years before the Christian era, one of the Egyp tian monarchs signalized his birthday by a feast to his servants, and the release of prisoners, as well as by an act of despotism. That Herod took it upon him to keep his birthday gor geously, is memorialized by the shameful decapi tation of a prophet, and his own consequent re morse. " The king was sorry," said the inspired historian. In ancient Rome, such anniversaries were especially observed. She kept her own birth day, April 21st, 753 B.C., when she paid hon ors to her wolf-nursed father Romulus. Julius Caesar says of the Gauls, that notwithstanding BIRTHDAYS. 93 their rude habitudes, they " kept birthdays and the beginnings of years." The Roman aristocracy regarded as memo rable eras, not merely their nativity, but the period of their attainment of any distinguished honor. u For men are not born only on those days when they first come into the world, 1 ' says one of their authors, " but when they arrive at their chief greatness." Adrian observed three birthdays : one of his entrance into life, one of his adoption by his predecessor, and the other, his. assumption of the imperial purple. Not merely emperors and nobles, but com mon people, in private households, regarded birthdays, according to their ability, by enter tainments to their friends, giving presents, and exchanging good wishes. The classics give frequent allusions to such customs, and to the religious offerings and vows with which they were interspersed. An inter esting poem, entitled " De die natali," was written on the occasion of the birthday of a friend, by Censorinus, a Latin grammarian and philosopher in the time of Alexander Severus. It treats of the birth and life of man of the influence over his fortunes then supposed to b'* 94 PAST MEBIDIAi*. exercised by the stars, and gives valuable in formation respecting some of the usages of antiquity. But, apart from all historical prestige, we recommend that notice be taken of 'the birth day of aged persons. A cheerful call at such a time, a note of congratulation, or the simplest gift, may reassure those who may imagine them selves forgotten, and brighten the eye that was dim and downcast with dejection. It may be alleged that some individuals of a certain age, especially if unmarried, do not like to have their birthdays designated. Very well. Wait a while. There comes a time when people are proud of their age. I have known hale and hearty old persons take pains to prove the seniority of only six months over some coe val. In this, as in other respects, the beginning and end of life coalesce. " I am a year older than you," says the exulting child to his crest fallen playmate. But look ye, my compeers ! Let none of you speak a word at any time against Age. Do not decry it. Do not discredit it. It is treachery in our camp. Excuse this episode. I was just about to repeat the wish that we should, as far as practi- BIRTHDAYS. 95 cable, notice the birthdays of our friends who are advanced on life's journey, and by affection ate reference to the path in which they have faithfully walked, and the blessed home to which they are drawing near, aid in giving strength for the remainder of their pilgrim age. It is true that, to prolonged life, funeral an niversaries multiply. Many of our way-marks are tombstones. We may render there the offering of a strewn flower and a heart-felt tear. Yet, let the tribute be in silence, between God and our own soul. Why need we sadden the young with the ghosts of our buried joys ? Still, these " oaks of weeping " may yield a salutary influence. The poet has well said, that he best " mourns the dead who lives as they desire." The return, both of their nativity and departure, may be made serviceable to the liv ing. We may then give new vigor to their ex ample, continue their good works, or complete their unfinished charities. I had a friend who consecrated the birthday of the loved ones who had gone before, by some labor in their favorite field of benevolence, or in that sphere of chari table effort, which he knew they would have approved, had it been presented to them. The 96 PAST MEEIDIAN. heart of the sad orphan, or lonely widow, was made glad, cells of sickness entered, as by an angel of mercy, the page of knowledge spread for ignorance, and salvation on mission-wings sent to those who sate in the shadow of death. Was not the melody of such gratitude heard in heaven ? Was it not a memorial meet for glorified spirits ? Touched it not their pure brows with a new smile, that their entrance into high Heaven's bliss should have annual record of praise and thanksgiving on earth ? " Again returns the day," says the mournful mother to her heart, " in which my darling, the light of my eyes, went down into silence. The very hour draws nigh, when, for the last time, his eyes beheld and blessed me, and his hand would fain have once more clasped mine. Ah ! how faint was its trembling pressure : the chill entered into my soul. " Many charities did he love : for his sake will I cherish them. He felt for the toil-worn sailors, l mounting up to the heavens, going down again to the depths, their souls melted because of trouble.' I will send a donation to the good men who have combined to shelter them, and teach them the way to Heaven. BIRTHDAYS. 97 " He pitied those for whose dim eyes the beautiful things of creation were shut out. The poor blind shall be glad through him, this day. " How his eye kindled with varying emo tion, as he read in his young boyhood of the mutiny in the ship Bounty, of the open boat in which Bligh and his fellow-sufferers doled out so long the bullet's weight of bread, and the few water-drops, and, of the Crusoe settle ment on Pitcairn's island, from whence, as good may spring out of evil, now rises the Sabbath worship of a little Christian community. A token of his remembrance shall go forth to that lone oasis of the Pacific. " He loved little children. When he was himself a child, he wished to give every desti tute one food, and a garment, and a book. The orphan institution shall be reminded through my gifts of his birthday. And, if my heart should single out any one from that number, to provide for, to watch over, and to guide on life's future way with maternal counsels, I know it would be pleasing to the departed, for in such things he ever took delight. " He revered the old and grey-headed, how ever poor and despised. I will seek them out 5 98 PAST MERIDIAN. this day, in their desolate abodes, and put into their withered hands his alms, and speak such kind words as shall bring joy like a sunbeam over their furrowed brows. And, when they would fain express their gratitude, I will say, ' Thank not me ! I have done it for his sake ! -for Ms sake? ' So, the mother was comforted for her son, and found that solace for his birthday in heaven, which it had never given her while he dwelt in tents of clay. But, for us, who, having passed far on our journey, and lost many friends, are tempted to linger long among the graves, it is peculiarly desirable that cheering anniversaries should have free scope, and predominate. We had rather shed a sunbeam than a midnight chill. Let us render the birth of every new year, and each return of the season of our dear Redeemer's nativity, a time of joy to every heart within the sphere of our influence, not overlooking the lowliest servant, or the humblest child. It is better to be harmless finger-posts, pointing to paths of innocent happiness, than flaming swords to fright away the traveller from Eden. Pleasant mirth, and amusing recollections BIETHDAYS. 99 of earlier days, are medicinal to the old, and not uninteresting to younger auditors. Per haps the following original Valentine, which has never before been published, may serve to illustrate the sprightliness of mind that some times lingers amid declining years. 'Tis more than threescore years and ten, Our life's allotted span, Since first, in youthful, happy days, Our friendship true began. 'Tis more than threescore years and ten, Since, as a joyous child, I played with you on Stratford Green, In many a frolic wild. As I look back upon those years, Threescore and ten and five, Of all the mates we numbered then, But we two are alive : We two of all that happy band, Of sportive girls and boys, Who wept together childish griefs, Or smiled o'er childish joys. And we're far down the vale of years, And time is fleeting fast, Yet, I would be a child once more, And live again the past. Years seventy-five ! how thrills my heart, As memory bears me back, To tread again, with buoyant steps, My girlhood's sunny track. 100 PAST MEKIDIAN. But, in life's retrospect, I see Full many a saddened scene, For life has not been all a play On dear old Stratford Green ; We've drank, dear friend, its mingled cup, Of sorrow and of joy, Since I was but a sportive girl, You a free-hearted boy. "We both were blest with many friends, How few are left alive ! The dearly loved have passed away, And yet we still survive : We still survive, and it may be A year, perhaps a day, When, like the loved ones gone before, We too shall pass away. God grant that, in life's parting hour, Our toils and labors done, We may go gently to our rest, As sinks yon setting sun. When we were young were stirring times, The age of iron men, Who rung the trumpet's warlike shout, From every hill and glen : Who stood for country and for home, For liberty and life, ' God and the right ! ' their battle-cry, They conquered in the strife. 'Tis true, we were but children then, But we remember well, How many a heart was desolate, How many a patriot fell. BIETHDAYS. 101 For oft, the parent on his knee Would seat his lisping child, And tell strange tales of battle scenes, And legends stern and wild ; And oft our childish cheeks were blanch'd, And childish tears would flow, As wonderingly we listened then, To deeds of blood and woe. But joy best suits the youthful heart, Its pulse is light and free, And so, as it has ever been, It was with you and me. And still your boyhood's sports went on, My girlhood's laughter rung, For, in those days of sternest deeds, Both you and I were young. Do you remember, dear old friend, The simple village school, Where Mr. Ayres taught little folks To read and write by rule ? Children were timid, teachers stern, In those our youthful days, When, copy-book in hand, we went, Trembling, to seek his praise. And, when you won the wished-for boon And I stood sadly by, You often caused a ray of hope To light my downcast eye, No matter what the teacher said, Fresh from your generous breast, Came to my ear the flattering words That mine was always best. 102 PAST MERIDIAN. Do you remember that I sent You, then, a Valentine ? Fine sentiment, perhaps, it lacked, But love breathed in each line, It seems but yesterday, these five And seventy years ago ; You then had owned no other belle, And I no other beau. I, in return, a ribbon got, Bright with true love's own hue, And much it pleased my girlish taste, For 'twas the bonniest blue, But, childhood quickly passed away, And hearts were lost and won, And you soon owned another love, And I, another John. With him, I journeyed many a year, Happy and blest were we, He lived to see his bairnies' bairns Prattling upon his knee ; We climbed ' thegither up the hill,' But, down alone I go, And soon, ' thegither at its foot,' With him I'll lay me low. Yet, not alone, for loving hearts, Are left in children dear, Who, in my downward path of life, Smooth each declining year, And oft, to glad my aged eye, My children's children come, And merry laughter rings again, In my old happy home. BIETHDAYS. 103 For you, sole mate of earliest days, I've cast a backward eye, Along tlie changing track of time, As swift it hurried by ; And forward may we dare to look ? Another opening year Hath dawned upon us, and its close May scarcely find us here. One may be taken, one be left, It may be I, or you, Still, while we live, dear, early friend, Shall live our friendship true ; My years now number eighty-eight, And yours are eighty-nine, Yet, once more, as in days of yore, Accept my Valentine. CHAPTEK IX. fatriotir " The brave, great spirits who went down like suns, And left upon the mountain-tops of death A light that made them lovely." A. SMITH. WHAT chronology is to history, are dates to the memories of actual life. They give adhe siveness and force to impressions that might else be desultory, and perishable. What mathematics are to the mind, they may also be to the lieart, adding stability and power to its better sentiments and affections. Sweet and salutary is it to review the varied events of God's providence, with regard to our selves and others, on the return of their respec tive anniversaries. By thus deepening the imagery, and refreshing the colors on our mov ing diorama, we may renew a grateful sense of PATEIOTIC RECOLLECTIONS. 105 His goodness, perhaps make more permanent the benefits of His discipline. National anniversaries give fervor to the pa triotism of a people. I have seen the whole heart of England stirred up on the fifth of No vember, from the white-robed priest, and the chanting choir in the cathedrals, to the merry urchins let loose from school, perchance, more inclined to laud than to denounce the " Gun powder plot," that had given them a holiday. Yet a truer fellowship and stronger nationality sprang up from this general sympathy of gratu- lation. The birth of our own country, so peculiar in itself, and so fraught with blessings to her chil dren, should be warmly and reverently regard ed. That event might be so embalmed and brought forward year by year, as to perpetuate the blessings which first flowed from it. The fourth of July, ITT 6, is a date that every American remembers, from the snows of Minnesota to the Floridian orange-groves from the sounding shores of the Atlantic, to the new found realm of gold. A wanderer perchance, on Chimborazo, or in the Eternal City, or among the tropic isles, or daring, with frost- bound sails, the ices of the Arctic zone, he 5* 106 PAST MERIDIAN. bares his head at his country's birth-day, while his heart quickens with their proud joy, who of old exclaimed, " I am a Roman citizen" An aged friend, whose birth was on the consecrated fourth of July, 1776, never failed till the close of life to rejoice in that circum stance, as a heritage of glory. That this date should have been marked by the transition to another world, of two of the venerable signers of our Declaration of Independence, each digni fied by the highest office in our country's power to bestow, adds a mystic sacredness to its his toric interest. John Adams, whose far-reaching mind saw the incipient rights of his native land, when in the chrysalis of her colonial state, she herself understood them not, who with boldness and enthusiasm unfolded and demanded them, to whom, next to Washington, she first accorded the honor of her chief magistracy, lay at the age of ninety, on his dying couch, at his fair, pater nal residence in Quincy, (Mass.,) where he first drew breath, surrounded by objects of his fond est love. It was a holy sight To look upon that venerable man, PATRIOTIC RECOLLECTIONS. 107 Remembering all his honors, all his toils, And knowing that his earth-receding grasp, Was on the anchor of eternal life. It was the fourth of July, 1826. Raising his head from the pillow, the last brightness gathering in his eye, he said, " It is the glorious Fourth. God bless it. God bless you all. This is a great and glorious day." And so, he resigned his spirit. On the same day, Thomas Jefferson, his friend and compeer in toils and counsels for a nation's liberty, the third President of these United States, at his Virginian home of Monti- cello, which he had beautified by taste and hos pitality, received, while still lightly bearing the burden of eighty-three years, that guest who cometh but once to the children of men. It was his fearless pen, rich in varied literature, that drafted our Declaration of Independence : Forth from that pen of might, Burst the immortal scroll, Which gave a living soul To shapeless clay ; Which said, " Let there be light," And the old startled realms beheld a new-born day. John Adams, among his latest words, had said, " Jefferson survives" Yet almost at the 108 PAST MERIDIAN. same hour of the day that completed the fiftieth year of that nation's life, the beating of whose infant pulse they had counted and registered, both those great men expired. As Solon shrouded his head 'and departed, that the mys tery of his absence might add efficacy to the laws he had established for Athens, they gave to their country's first jubilee, that last solemn seal which death sets on love and patriotism. The twenty-second of February, the birth day of Washington, should be regarded with demonstrations of national enthusiasm and gratitude. Especially should they who stand nearest in proximity to those tempestuous times which his wisdom helped to change into the broad sunlight of freedom, speak of the virtues of that king of men, to all in the forming period of life. Not as a warrior would we chiefly com mend him ; that was indeed a prominent exi gence to which he was called by Heaven, and in which he conducted nobly, but we press on the imitation of those who are to come after us, his disinterested patriotism, his patience in ad versity, his unswerving truth, his wisdom in the greatest matters, his just attention to the smallest, the punctuality of his dealings with all men, the godlike dignity, the serene, unostenta- PATEIOTIC RECOLLECTIONS. 109 tious piety, which made a more perfect balance of character than has appertained to any hero in any age. Another approach to a remarkable coinci dence of dates, is the death of the venerable John Quincy Adams, on the completion of half a century from that of the Pater Patrise," and also within a single day of the anniversary of his birth. He was himself the sixth President of the United States, and the son of the second who had sustained that honor. Though he had surpassed the age of fourscore, he still kept his seat among the representatives of our nation, at Washington, watching with keen eye and unim paired intellect, whatever concerned her vitality or renown. It was on the morning of February 21st, 1848, that he appeared in the lofty halls of Congress, with his usual vigor, and gave, in a clear, emphatic voice, his vote on the opening question. Suddenly there was a cry, " Mr. Adams is dying ! " Throngs rushed to the side of that " old man eloquent," and bore him fainting to a sofa in an inner apartment. Partially recover ing from insensibility, he said slowly, " This is all of earth. I am content" Repeating the as surance of his calmness and preparation, he re- 110 PAST MEEIDIAN. lapsed into silent repose, until the evening of the twenty-third, when the country whom he had so long served, mourned at the tidings that he was no more. Thus fell nobly at his post, and in the man ner that his patriot heart might have chosen, this man of stainless integrity, of universal ac quirements, of diplomatic training from early boyhood, and one of the few in whom preco city of talent continues to advance through the whole of life, and to ripen amid the frosts of age. But not in the splendor of the fame of statesmen or chieftains, would we lose the memory of others, who, in humbler stations, gathered firmly around the endangered cradle of our common country. Some of these were our own sires. By the hearth-stone, they have told our listening infancy of toils and perils, bravely and cheerfully borne. It becomes us to impress them on our children, who, amid the luxurious indulgences of a great and prosperous land, can scarcely conceive the hardships and dangers by which its freedom was wrought out. Standing as we do, literally as well as poli tically, on the " isthmus of a middle state," it PATRIOTIC RECOLLECTIONS. Ill seems incumbent on us to deliver unimpaired to a future age, such records as the Past may have entrusted to our care. The liberty which was enkindled upon our own altars, amid blast and tempest, should be guarded as a vestal flame. The voice of the actors in those " times that tried men's souls," speaks through us. Let us strive that it may enkindle pure love in the hearts of the young, to that native land, which, though it has indeed gained a proud seat among the nations, has still the same need of protection from their virtues, that it once had from their fathers' swords. The patriotism which we would fain cherish, by keeping in life and freshness the events of our earlier history, struck deep and time root in the hearts of the softer sex, amid the storms of revolution. The privations which they content edly and bravely endured, should not be for gotten. In many a lonely home, from whence the father was long sundered by a soldier's destiny, Woman stifled the sigh of her own hardships, that she might, by her firmness, breathe new strength into her husband's heart, and be " An undergoing spirit, to bear up Against whate'er ensued." 112 PAST MERIDIAN. How often, during that long war, did the mother labor to perform to her little ones, both the father's duties, and her own, having no ref uge in her desolate estate, and unresting anxie ty, save the Hearer of Prayer. I have often reflected on a simple narration, once given me by a good and hoary-headed man, the late Kev. Dr. David Smith, of Dur ham, Conn., who with unimpaired intellect, and cheerful piety, completed the period of ninety- four years. " My father was in the army, during the whole eight years of the Revolutionary war, at first as a common soldier, after ward as an officer. My mother had the sole charge of us, four little ones. Our house was a poor one, and far from neighbors. I have a keen remembrance of the terrible cold of some of those winters. The snow lay so deep and long, that it was difficult to cut or draw fuel from the woods, or to get our corn to mill, when we had any. My mother was the possessor of a coffee mill. In that she ground wheat, and made coarse bread which we ate and were thankful. It was not always, that we could be allow ed as much even of this, as our keen appetites craved. Many is the time that we have gone to bed with only a drink of water for our supper, in which a little molasses had been mingled. We patiently received it, for we knew our mother did as well for us as she could, and hoped to have something better in the morning. She was never heard to repine, and young as we were, we tried to make her lovely spirit and heavenly trust, our example. When my father was permitted to come home, his stay was short, and he had not much to leave us, for the pay of those who had achieved our liberties, was slight, and irregularly PATRIOTIC RECOLLECTIONS. 113 rendered. Yet when he went, my mother ever bade him farewell with a cheerful face, and not to be anxious about his children, for she would watch over them night and day, and God would take care of the families of those who went forth to defend the righteous cause of their country. Sometimes we wondered that she did not mention the cold weather, or our short meals, or her hard work, that we little ones might be clothed and fed, and taught. But she would not weaken his hands, or sadden his heart, for she said a soldier's lot was harder than all. We saw that she never complained, but always kept in her heart a sweet hope, like a well of living water. Every night ere we slept, and every morning when we arose, we lifted our little hands for God's blessing on our absent father and our endan gered country." Yet the spirit of patriotism has not deserted our sex. It has only changed its form, with the aspect of the times. No one can doubt this, who beholds the energy and zeal that pervade every rank, prompting to benevolent effort for the comfort of suffering and wounded soldiers. Those Sanitary Fairs which spring up spon taneously in so many cities of our land, to which the accomplished lady brings the exqui site creations of her taste, and the ancient one, the production of her knitting-needles, and the little child the fragments of calico she has diligently gathered and united, reveal a quick ening impulse which binds stranger-hearts in a hallowed sisterhood, and sheds lustre over the sadness and misery of civil war. 114 PAST MERIDIAN. There is also a modification of patriotism, which without seeking notoriety is admirable, whose object is to elevate or beautify the re gion where it dwells. Of this, the late Hon. James Hil] house of New-Haven, was an illus trious example. With his professional labors as a lawyer, with the honors of a statesman, having held for sixteen years his seat in the Senate of the United States, and being the oldest member of that body, at the period of his resignation, and also, with the onerous business of Commissioner of the School Fund of Connecticut, whose financial affairs evidently prospered under his vigilant superintendence, and with fidelity to other important public trusts, he possessed the skill to combine, as the Duke of Sully had done some two hundred years before, the pleasure of enriching the landscape with noble trees planted by his own hand. The city of his residence, which in summer, and especially during the leafy month of June, is one of the most picturesque spots in New England, illustrates in her numerous and grace fully waving shades, his philanthropic spirit, and persevering industry. To the borders of four score, his earnest habits, and endearing virtues extended, and those who were familiar with PATEIOTIC EECOLLECTIONS. 115 the tones of his voice, and the smile that lighted up to the last, his dark expressive eye, will not forget them. The City of Elms is his debtor to-day ; She owes him a statue, and should not delay, In deep, sculptured bronze her memorial to pay. I would like to speak of another form of patriotism, not frequently exhibited, which turns with filial tenderness to the scenery of its birth. Of this, there .is among us a con spicuous instance. Asa Fitch, Esq., having spent the early part of his life in Marseilles, France, returned about thirty years since, a rich banker, and rejecting the alluring solicitations of metropolitan cities, returned to the secluded village in Connecticut, where his departed parents had resided, and where he was himself born. There was nothing peculiarly attractive in the locality to one accustomed to the excite ments of French society, but his affectionate heart lingered around the farm where his father, a respected officer of the Revolution, had reared a family, and where his sightless mother had laid her hands on his head and blessed him. Thither he bore the energies of a discriminat- 116 PAST MEEIDIAN. ing and original mind. Rocks and stones dis appeared as by magic, and gave place to smooth, velvet turf. The beautiful things of Nature sprang up. Vegetable wealth flourished, and in his green-houses and graperies the rich plants and fruits of tropical climes found themselves at home. He erected of solid masonry, beside the edifices upon his own immediate premises, a church, a parsonage, a school-house, and a large manufactory to employ the surrounding people, which when destroyed by conflagration, he patiently and liberally rebuilt. In his habits he is strictly systematic, rising early and break fasting throughout the year by candle-light, and going immediately forth to superintend in person the operatives upon his domain, which by repeated purchases, now comprises thou sands of acres. He leads an abstemious life, amidst elegant and luxurious hospitalities, and by this prudence, united to constant exercise in the open air, has succeeded in fortifying a con stitution naturally delicate, until in his seventy- eighth year, it resists and surmounts the intru sions of disease with singular elasticity. Such a course of exertion and philanthropy so long pursued, without the prompting of gain, or am bition for applause, constitutes an eminent and PATEIOTIC RECOLLECTIONS. unique example, which it is interesting to con template. The principal events in the history of our native land, arranged according to their dates, would be profitable to us, both as a review, and as an exercise of memory. Thus might we with more variety and freshness, impart to the young, that which they so well gather from books, details of the self-sacrifice, the courage and the piety which God recompensed with the life and liberty of a nation. Thus might we, perchance, lift a barrier, slight, yet not power less, against venality and luxury and ambition, those banes of a republic, arrogantly polluting the pure sources of patriotic health. The diligent formation, and regular refer ence to a daily list of dates founded on uni versal history, is a salutary habit. Every day in the year, has, doubtless, more than one feat ure of distinction, " if men would carefully distil it out." Though not an historic fact of impor tance, it might probably bear the record of the birth or death of some individual whose biog raphy it would be pleasant to review, or im press on others. For if an ancient writer has truly said, that " the moral beauty on which we fix our eyes, presses its own form upon our 118 PAST MERIDIAN. hearts, making them fair and lovely with the qualities that they behold," the lives of the great and good must be a profitable contempla tion for plastic youth. Hints derived from our daily list of anniver saries, with some tact in avoiding prolixity, might be rendered valuable to the young who surround us. Let us hazard any aspersion of pedantry that might chance to flow from it. Ridicule of that sort should be pointless to us. If through adduced illustration or example, we may be made the medium of implanting some great truth or holy precept, which shall bear fruit for our country after we are dead, let us neither shrink nor loiter ; for the time is short. The people who have past their prime, have reason to rejoice that so many of their own im mediate band have been enabled to leave such enduring traces on the sands of time. If the satisfactions of rural life, the transmutation of the unsightly mould into fruits and flowers, are so soothing and salutary, is it not a privilege to plant in the region where we were ourselves reared, trees, whose " leaves are for the healing of the nations ? " If the founding of those time-honored edifices, the pyramid, the obelisk, and the temple, on which the storms of ages PATEIOTIC EECOLLECTIONS. 119 have beaten in vain, are inquired for with earnestness, should not higher honor be theirs, who have been enabled to erect for liberty and law, columns on whose Corinthian capital, lingers the smile of heaven, as a never-setting sun ? CHAPTEE X. If a diamond was ours, at the opening of day, Because it is eve, shall we cast it away ? ACCOMPLISHMENTS for old people? Yes. And why not ? It would seena as if the world thought they had no right to them. Whereas, having been obliged to part with many personal attractions, there is the more need that they should take pains to make themselves agreeable. Every other period of life has its peculiar prospect of improvement, and its prescribed modes of promoting it. What care is expend ed to teach childhood the theory of language. Through ignorance, grammatical error, and sol ecism, it steadily advances, nothing daunted, or discouraged. What efforts are put forth to induce the young to make the most of any attainment ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 121 they may possess, and strenuously to acquire those in which they are deficient. And this is right. Maturity has its beautiful occupations, its hallowed responsibilities, and an array of resistless motives to excel in each. Nothing seems expected of the aged but to put themselves decently away into some dark corner, and complete the climax of the great poet, " second childishness, and mere oblivion." Let's see about that. Why not adopt the sug gestion of another poet, to " live while we live ? " In looking about for some relief, or loophole though which to escape, forgive me, if I hint what at first view might seem trifling, the pres ervation of a cheerful countenance, and a neat, becoming costume. Inattention to these points is prone to mark those who feel themselves of little consequence in society, and the effect is to render them still more disregarded. " A merry countenance, said Jeremy Taylor, " is one of those good things which no enemy or perse cutor can take away from me." On the subject of apparel, whose import ance, ladies may, at least, be ready to admit, Madam Hancock, the dignified consort of the President of our First Congress, used to say, u I can never forgive any person in good 6 122 PAST MERIDIAN. society for not being well dressed, or for think- ing of themselves after they are dressed." To a very advanced age, she was herself a fine illus tration of her theory. The stimulant of example, also, as well as of precept, is strenuously brought to bear upon the young, in their different departments of study and accomplishment. For instance, in the science of music, requiring the daily, labor ious practice of years, emulation is continually exerted. More than one fair aspirant has cheered her long session at the piano, by re calling what was said of the captivating Ann Boleyn, that " when she composed her hands to play, and her voice to sing, it was joined with such sweetness of countenance that three harmonies concurred." What a striking picture ! Though waning years may preclude from this combination of three harmonies, yet be it known to all whom it may concern, that there have been old people who retained, and even made progress in what the world styles accomplishments. I have had the honor of being acquainted with ladies, who after the age of eighty, excelled in the various uses of the needle, executing embroidery by the evening lamp, and sitting so erect, that ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 123 younger persons, more addicted to languid po sitions, asserted that " it made their shoulders ache to look at them/ 7 I am in possession of various articles, both useful and ornamental, wrought by the hands of such venerable friends, and doubly precious for their sakes. The widow of our great statesman, Alexan der Hamilton, with many other feminine accom plishments, exhibited to a great age, the ex quisite uses of the needle, and continued to be admired for the ease and courtesy with which she entertained her numerous guests, during a life which comprised almost a century. Mrs. Madison was distinguished, not only while in the presidential mansion, where she won the heart of every visitant, but throughout a long life, by one of the most kindly and queenly natures that ever belonged to woman. So fully developed and unchangeably sustained were her social powers, and brilliance of con versation, that after the age of eighty, I have often heard her in the large assemblages at the court of our nation, address to every person some appropriate remark, or touch some train of familiar thought, that would make the em barrassed at ease, or the happy, happier. She was unwilling, even for hours, to indulge in 124 PAST MERIDIAN. the repose of a seat, lest some one should escape her notice, whom she might cheer, or gratify. Especially when children were present, she never forgot or overlooked the youngest, but with ad mirable tact had something to say, which they might take with them as a pleasant memory onward to future years. In the high and rare attainment of elegant reading, I have never known any lady so con spicuous to advanced age, as the mother of the late Bishop Wainwright. Her distinct articu lation and perfect emphasis made listening a pleasure, and drew out the full beauty of the thought which they rendered vocal. To her also, belongs the high praise of having formed, in early boyhood, the habits and style of elocution of her distinguished and lament ed son. Many precious pictures have I, in that niche of memory's gallery, where the hoar frost sparkles. One of these, I must indulge myself in transferring. It is entwined with the scenery of my own native place. I see again, a tall, dignified lady, whose elastic step age failed to chain. High intellect was hers, O O i the stronger for being self-taught, and a place among the aristocracy, that she might the more ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 125 plainly show the beauty of gentle manners and a lowly heart. In the varieties of conversation which, without pedantry or display, unveil ex tensive learning and suggestive thought, I have never known any of my own sex her superior ; I was about to have said, her equal. Fabrics of use and of taste, she wrought and ornament ed, and with her delicate scissors, imitated the beauties and wonders of the animal and floral world. Children, she especially charmed by these efforts of her skill as well as by her great descriptive powers, ever keeping in view their instruction as well as pleasure. Clustering around, they listened, holding their breath, lest they should lose a word. She also de lighted them with the sweetness of her ancient o and sacred songs, for to the verge of fourscore and ten, her musical powers remained, a source of wondering gratification to all around. Even now, those swan-like melodies that enchanted my earliest years, revisit me, rich, clear, and softened by the lapse of years, as if borne over untroubled waters. The time would fail me to tell of her excel lent knowledge in all that appertained to the domestic sphere ; as it also would to mention other ladies in my own New England, who in 126 PAST MERIDIAN. the delicate elements of that great feminine attainment, good housekeeping, yielded neither energy nor skill to the frost of seventy years, but dexterously continued to touch every clock-work spring, on which the order and comfort of a blessed home depend. It would be quite impossible here to enume rate those of the other sex whom it has been my privilege to know, who in their various de partments and professions, derived added dig nity from age ; merchants, whose mental acute- ness time seemed to have refined ; physicians, whose large experience gave such confidence to the sick as to prove an element of healing; jurists, whose time-tried judgments, were as beaten gold ; divines, whose silver locks were a talisman to the hearts of their hearers ; statesmen, whose eloquence was never more fervid or vigorous than when their sun went down. A gentleman, whose period of collegiate ed ucation had been cut short by the absorbing toils of a life at sea, having found in advanced age a haven of repose, resumed with zeal, the perusal of the classics, remarking, that after fourscore he had been led decidedly to prefer them to his native tongue, which was " so easy ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 127 as not to keep the mind awake." I have often found him deeply engaged over the pages of Homer or Cicero, in the original, his eye brightening at every gem of genius, and his florid complexion pure with temperance, re minding one of Miss Mitford's description of the beauty of her own venerable father. The efforts that sustain social intercourse, and the attractions that adorn it, are in our Re public, too soon laid aside. Of these, the gray- haired seem in haste to absolve themselves, as of a sin. In France, they are kept in constant and prosperous exercise. The idea of being superannuated seems not there to have entered the mind of the people. The aged are received in mixed society, as marked favorites, and bear their part with an inextinguishable naivete. Many instances of this, I beheld, with admir ing wonder. One evening, in particular I recollect being interested in watching Isabey, the celebrated miniature painter, of Paris, who with hair like the driven snow, glided through the mazes of the dance, at a state ball given by the elegant Marchioness Lavalette, the agility of his movements not at all impaired by more than eighty years, nor the graceful courtesy with which he delighted to introduce and 128 PAST MEEIDIAN. bring into notice, his fair, young wile, while frequent allusions to their home proved how affectionately their hearts turned thither amid all the gaieties of fashion. Yet it is not in mercurial France alone, that men " frisk beneath the burden of fourscore." The philosophic Socrates, though not indeed, at quite so ripe an age, used to dance, and play upon the lyre ; one, to preserve his physical vigor, and the other to tune and elevate his mind with cheerfulness. Macklin, after he had numbered a full cen tury, appeared on the stage, and in the charac ter of the Jew, Shylock, held his audience in absorbed attention. He also successfully occu pied himself in revising and remodeling his own dramatic compositions. It will be said that these instances are ex ceptions, rather than examples that we may hope to reach. Of some, this is true ; but from others we derive encouragement and hope. If at the age of eighty, Cato thought proper to go to school to learn Greek, why should we not consider ourselves scholars, as long as aught remains to be learned ? Yes, life is ever a school, both in its discipline and its aspirations. Let us take our places in that class who both ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 129 learn and teach. We will speak of the mani fold goodness of God, which we have so long tested, and strike that keystone of praise, whose melody will be perfected in Heaven : " Yet oh ! eternity's too short, To utter all His praise." Among the highest accomplishments of age, are its dispositions. It should daily cultivate the spirit to admire what is beautiful, to love what is good, and to be lenient to the faults of that infirm nature of which all are partakers. As sensual pleasures lose their hold, the char acter should become more sublimated. While we would avoid that fixedness which repels new impressions, and resists improvements as innovation, let us seek the accomplishment of an active, unslumbering benevolence. Dear friends, whom I love better for the linked sympathies of many years, do some thing to be remembered when you are gone. Let your words, either spoken or written, bring forth fruit when you are dead. Endow a school. Open a fountain. Plant a tree. Put a good book in a cottage, or a public library. It was a beautiful reply of a white-haired man, to the question why he should trouble himself 130 PAST MERIDIAN. to be setting out a pear tree, who could scarcely hope to taste its fruits, " Have I all my life long, eaten from trees that the dead have planted, and shall not the living eat of mine ? " Let us hold to the spirit of progress and the capabilities of improvement of this im mortal nature, as long as it sojourns in the flesh. " There is no reason," said a clear- minded philosopher, " why we should not make advances, as long as we are in a state of probation." If our pilgrimage is almost finished, does that create a need to forfeit our admiration or relax our pursuit of " whatsoever is fair, lovely, or of good report ?" " Excelsior " may as well be our motto at the close, as at the commence ment of life's journey. If we are, indeed, so near the Better Land as to catch the whispers of its camp, hear we not, in a great voice, as of many harpers, the inspiring strain, " Forgetting the things that are behind, reach forth unto those that are be fore ! " and is there not in our own hearts, an answering chant, as of antiphonal music, " Not as though we had attained, or were already perfect. But we follow after." CHAPTEK XI. f ribtUjjes of Say ye, who through the round of eighty years Have proved life's joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, Say, is there not enough to meekness given, Of light from reason's lamp, and light from heaven, To teach us where to follow, what to shun, Or bow the head and say, God's righteous will be done ? " MRS. BARBAULD. THE motto here selected was composed by the venerable author after she had passed the bounds of fourscore. In her well-regulated mind there was no disposition to disparage the comforts that linger around the later stages of human life. Why should this disposition ever be tolerated ? Many enjoyments have, indeed, run their course ; their lease having expired by limitation of time. Yet others remain, the birthright of advanced years, which it is both unjust and unwise, not to appreciate. 132 PAST MERIDIAN. We have spoken of the privileges of age. Has it, in reality, any inherent honors, emolu ments, or immunities, to justify such an assump tion ? Originally, it was in possession of a charter, sanctioned by Divine authority, demanding reverence for the hoary head, and for the counsel of those to whom years had given wis dom. Modern times have indeed modified this charter. Our own republic has been pro nounced by observant foreigners deficient in the sentiment of respect. Still, among well- trained and noble natures, there will be ever a willingness to honor those who have long and well borne the burdens of time, and a veneration for the " hoary head, if found in the way of righteousness." The inquirer if age has any emolument, may be reminded of the wealth of experience. Are not the whole beautiful, ever-moving world of the young, in poverty for the want of it ? searching, trying, tasting, snatching at garlands and grasping thorns, chasing meteors, embarking on fathomless tides, and in danger of being swallowed up by quicksands ? The aged, through toil and hazard, through the miseries of mistake, or the pains of penitence, THE PRIVILEGES OF AGE. 133 have won it. Safe in their casket, are gems polished by long attrition, and gold dust, well washed, perchance, in fountains of tears." " Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, for it bears a laden breast, Still, with sage experience, moving toward the brightness of the west." Has age immunities ? Its sources of reve nue seem to be negative rather than positive. It has probably dissolved partnership with per sonal vanity. And was not that a losing con cern ? There remains no consciousness of beauty, no feverish hope of admiration, no undue excitement of competition, no bewilder ment from flattery, to put out of sight higher purposes,, or exclude more rational pleasures. The consequent gain, both of leisure and quiet, must be great. Has it not also a respite from the toils of money getting, from that science of accumulation which is but practical slavery? It is surely time. Having borne the yoke for many years, rising early, and late taking rest, and eating the bread of carefulness, it would be desirable to taste the sweets of such enfran chisement, while yet " the lamp holds out to burn." In age, is not the over-mastering force of the 134 PAST MERIDIAN. passions broken ? Is it as irascible at opposi tion as when the current of life rushed fiercely on, battling all obstacles with the impetuosity of a cataract ? Is it still led in blind and deep captivity, as of yore, by " Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's syren train, Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain ? " If a more serene and self-sustained philoso phy is a natural concomitant of age, is it not a privilege for which to give thanks ? Yet not in exemptions alone, do the advan tages of the aged consist. Have they not more aid, and stronger promptings to disinterested ness, than in the earlier stages of their journey ? The young acquire accomplishments, that they may be distinguished or admired ; the old strive to continue agreeable, that they may please or edify others. The man of mature years toils to achieve wealth, as a means of influence ; the study of the old is, or should be, how to dispense it. Their business is to shower back upon the earth the gifts she has bestowed, having no further expectation from her, save of a couch in her bosom. Since those who have the slightest admix ture of self, escape countless discomforts by THE PEIVILEGES OF AGE. 135 which others are annoyed, the aged are assisted by their condition to find that happiness which is more independent of " things that perish in the using." " That which, they are, they are, Made weak by time, perchance, but strong in will, To strive, to seek, to grasp, and not to yield." \ If, to compensate for the visible losses of time, there are correspondent gains, less obvi ous, but still secure, it concerns all to under stand their amount, that they may be able to balance the books, ere the Master calleth for an account of their stewardship. An ancient classic has well remarked, that Nature, after having wisely distributed to all the preceding portions of life their peculiar and proper en joyments, can scarcely be supposed to have neglected, like an indolent poet, the last act of the human drama, and left it destitute of suit able advantages. The God of nature has decreed to every season of life its inherent happiness, and fit ness for the end it was intended to serve. In spring, fair blossoms glow even among the grass blades, and in summer, the fruit-laden boughs are clothed with beauty. Vigorous autumn comes with his reaping hook, and win- 136 PAST MERIDIAN. try age await eth the Lord of the harvest. Not unmindful of its privileges, or reluctant to re store the mysterious gift of life, should it watch for his coming. Age should clothe itself with love, to resist the loneliness of its lot. Yet does it not some times cherish a morbid and mistaken conscious ness that it no longer retains the power of con ciliating affection ? It has been beautifully said that " the heart is as warm after life's day's-work is over, as when it began ; after the harness of manhood is cast off, as before it was put on. The love generally felt for genial and kindly old persons, with their unselfish sympa thies, their tried judgment, and their half- mournful tenderness toward those they are soon to leave, has not been enough remem bered in poetry. Their calm, reliable affection, is like the Indian summer of friendship." The aged, especially if their conquest of self is imperfect, are prone to underrate the advantages that remain. Their minds linger among depressing subjects, repining for what " time's effacing fingers " will never restore. Far better w r ould it be to muse on their re maining privileges, to recount them, and to rejoice in them. Many instances have I wit- THE PRIVILEGES OF AGE. nessed, both of this spirit, and the want of it, which left enduring impressions. I well remember an ancient dwelling, shel tered by lofty, umbrageous trees, and with all the appendages of rural comfort. A fair pros pect of hill and dale, and broad river, and dis tant spire, cheered the vine-covered piazzas, through whose loop-holes, with the subdued cry of the steam-borne cars, the world's great Babel made a dash at the picture without coming too near. Traits of agricultural life, divested of its rude and sordid toils, were pleasantly visible. A smooth-coated and sym metrical cow ruminated over her clover meal. A faithful horse, submissive to the gentlest rein, protruded his honest face through the barn window. A few brooding mothers were busy with the nurture of their chickens, while the proud father of the flock told with a clarion voice his happiness. There were trees, whose summer fruits were richly swelling, and bushes of ripening berries, and gardens of choice vegetables. Those who from the hot and dusty city came to breathe the pure air of this sylvan retreat, took note of these " creature comforts," and thought they added beauty to the land scape. 138 PAST MERIDIAN. Within the abode, fair pictures and books of no mean literature adorned the parlors ; in the carpeted kitchen ticked the stately old family clock, while the bright dishes stood in orderly array upon the speckless shelves. Visit ants could not but admire that union of taste and education which makes rural life beautiful. It might seem almost as an Elysium, where care would delight to repose, or philosophy to pur sue her researches without interruption. But to any such remark, the excellent owner was wont mournfully to reply : " Here are only two old people together. Our children are married and gone. Some of them are dead. We cannot be expected to have much enjoyment." Oh, dear friends, but it is expected that you should. Your very statement of the premises is an admission of peculiar sources of comfort. " Two old people together? Whose sympa thies can be so perfect ? And is not sympathy a source of happiness ? Side by side ye have journeyed through joys and sorrows. You have stood by the grave's brink, when it swal lowed up your idols, and the iron that entered into your souls was fused as a living link, that time might never destroy. Under the cloud THE PKIVILEGES OF AGE. 139 and through the sea, you have walked hand in hand, heart to heart. What subjects of com munion must you have, with which no other human being could intermeddle. " Two old people" Would your experience be so rich and profound, if you were not old ? or your congeniality so entire, if one was old, and the other young ? What a blessing that you can say, there are two of us. Can you realize the loneliness of soul that must gather around the words, u left alone ! " HOW T many of memory 7 s cherished pictures must then be viewed through blinding tears ? how feelingly the expression of the poet adopted, " 'tis the survivor dies ? " " Our children are married and gone" Would you have it otherwise ? Was it not fitting for them to comply with the institution of their Creator ? Is it not better than if they were all at home, without congenial employ ment, pining in disappointed hope, or solitude of the heart ? Married and gone ! To teach in other homes the virtues they have learned from you. Perchance, in newer settlements to diffuse the energy of right habits, and the high influence of pure principles. Gone ! to learn the luxury of life's most intense affec- 140 PAST MEK1DIAX. tions, and wisely to train their own young blossoms, for time and for eternity. Praise God that it is so. " Some are dead" They have gone a little before. They have show r n you the way through that gate where all the living must pass. Will not their voice of welcome be sweet in the skies ? Dream ye not sometimes that ye hear the echo of their harp-strings ? Is not your eternal home brought nearer, and made dearer by them ? Praise God. Several cottage homes, have I been lately favored in seeing, where age delightfully re poses. Two of them especially dwell in mem ory, as pictures not easily forgotten. One, in a retired part of the most admired city of Connec ticut, united every appliance of comfort, with elegance and refinement. There dwelt the saintly sage of more than ninety, looking calm ly back upon a w r ell-spent life, enlivened by the animation and cheerfulness of his compan ion, who, though only a few years younger, re tained in a remarkable degree, the attractions of manner and person, which had fascinated his youth. So near their cultured grounds, that intercourse through the windows might be per- THE PRIVILEGES OF AGE. 141 mitted, rose like a tutelary genius, the loftier mansion of their children, attentive to every wish and movement of the blessed parents, and anxious to accord the same protection and happiness which they had themselves received when life was new. This union of filial piety, with the calm enjoyment of honored age, gave a charm to this beautiful cottage, which made the heart thankful for the privilege of behold ing it. The other, in one of our most thriving rural townships, was bright with the roses of June. The aged pair who occupied it were considerably past fourscore, and happy to resign the more exciting cares of a city residence, for the quiet of the simple abode and beautiful garden, which their own skill and health ena bled them to cultivate. Not ambitious were they of wealth, but rich in the recollections of active and virtuous years, social, courteous, religiously satisfied with this fair world and its Maker. Methought the mildness of such a sunset was more beautiful than the uncertain bril liance of life's morning. One feels better for such a visit, and for the sight of such people. Looking upon the inhabitants of these two 142 PAST MEEIDIAN. peaceful abodes, I was reminded of that fine passage from Mountford : " Old age is a public good. It is indeed. Don't feel sad because you are old. Whenever you are walking, no one ever opens a gate for you to pass through, no one ever honors you with any kind of help, without being himself the better for what he does; for fellow-feeling with the aged ripens the soul." I once knew an aged couple, who for more than sixty years had dwelt in one home, and with one heart. Wealth was not theirs, nor the appliances of luxury, yet the plain house in which they had so long lived, was their own. Humble in every appointment, that they might keep free from debt, they were respected by people in the highest positions, for it was felt that they set a right example in all things. Every little gift, or token of remembrance from friends, and all who knew them were friends, awakened the fresh warmth of grati tude. Though their portion of this world's goods was small, benevolence, being inherent in their nature, found frequent expression. Always they had by them some book of slight expense, but of intrinsic value, to be given as a guide to the young, the ignorant or the tempted. Cordials also, and simple medicines for debility, THE PRIVILEGES OF AGE. 143 or incipient disease, they distributed to the poor, for they were skilful in extracting the spirit of health from herbs, and a part of the garden cultivated by their own hands, was a dispensary. Kind, loving words had they for all, the fulness of their heart's content, brim ming over in bright drops, to refresh those around. That venerable old man, and vigorous, his temples slightly silvered, when more than four score years had visited them, how freely flowed forth the melody of his leading voice, amid the sacred strains of public worship. His favorite tunes of Mear and Old Hundred, wedded to these simp]y sublime words, " While shepherds watched their flocks by night," and " Praise God, from whom all blessings flow," seem even now to fall sweetly, as they did upon my childish ear. These, and similar ancient harmonies, mingled with the devout prayers that morning and evening hallowed his home and its comforts ; she, the loved partner of his days, being often sole auditor. Thus, in one censer, rose the praise, which every day seemed to deepen. God's goodness palled not on their 144 PAST MERIDIAN. spirits, because it had been long continued. They rejoiced that it was " new every morning, and fresh every moment." By the clear, wood-fire in winter, sate the aged wife, with serene brow, skilfully busy in preparation or repair of garments, as perfect neatness and economy dictated ; while by the evening lamp, her bright knitting-needles moved with quickened zeal, as she remem bered the poor child, or wasted invalid, in some cold apartment, for whose feet they were to furnish a substantial covering. In the later years of life, their childless abode was cheered by the presence of a young orphan relative. She grew under their shadow with great delight, conforming her pliant heart to their wishes, and to the pattern of their godly simplicity. When they were seated together, she read to them such books as they chose, and treasured their Christian counsel. Her voice in the morning was as the carol of the lark, and they seemed to live again a new life in her young life. She was to them " like the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley." Love for the sweet helplessness of un folding years, increased with their own ad vancing age. Little children, who know by THE PEIVILEGES OF AGE. 145 instinct where love is, would draw near them, and stand lamb-like at their side. Thus they passed on, until more than ninety years had been numbered to them. They were not weary of themselves, or of each other, or of this beauti ful world. Neither was Time weary of bring ing them, letter by letter, the full alphabet of a serene happiness, and when extreme age added the Omega, they were well educated to begin the bliss of Eternity. CHAPTER XII. anft ntellectual " Their age was like a second winter, Frosty, but kindly." SHAKSPEARE. opinion has been expressed that literary labors, or habitual excursions into the regions of imagination, are adverse to the continuance of health, or even the integrity of intellect. Grave charges, truly ! and examples to the con trary may be easily adduced. Premature death and mental declension are confined to no profession or condition of life. Too early, or undue stress laid on the organs of the brain, is doubtless fraught with disastrous consequences. Still, their constant, and even severe exercise, may comport both with physi cal welfare and longevity. It is indeed, true, that Swift " expired a ETC. 147 driveller and a show," but not until lie had passed seven years beyond the span allotted to human life ; and the amiable author of the "Task," closed his pilgrimage in a ray less cloud at sixty-six ; and Walter Scott sank at sixty-one, under toils too ambitiously pursued, for the safe union of flesh with spirit ; and Southey, whose reckless industry precluded needful rest, subsided ere sixty-eight, into syn cope and the shadow of darkness ; and Henry Kirke White faded at twenty-one, in the fresh blossom of his young renown ; and Byron, at thirty-six, rent the fiery armor of genius and of passion, and fled from the conflict of life/ Yet Goethe, unimpaired by the strong ex citements of imagination, saw his eighty-second winter ; and the sententious architect of the ' Night Thoughts,' numbered fourscore and four; and Voltaire, at the same period, was still in love with the vanity of fame ; and Colley Gibber, for twenty-seven years poet laureate of England, reached eighty-six -; and Corneille con tinued to enjoy his laurels till seventy -eight ; and Crabbe, at an equal age, resigned the pen which had sketched with daguerreotype minute ness the passing scene. Joseph Warton, until 148 PAST MERIDIAN. his seventy-ninth year, made his mental riches and cheerful piety sources of delight to all around him ; Charles Wesley, on the verge of eighty, called his wife to his dying pillow, and with an inexpressible smile, dictated his last metrical effusion ; and Klopstock, the bard of the " Messiah," continued until the same period to cheer and delight his Mends. Isaac Watts laid down his consecrated harp at seventy-four ; and our own Trumbull, the author of " McFin- gal," preserved till eighty-two, the bright, origi nal intellect, whose strains had animated both camp and cottage. His friend, the distinguished Dwight, author of " Greenfield Hill," and for many years President of Yale College, died at sixty-four ; and Joel Barlow, ten years younger, found a foreign grave ; and Percival, another of our Connecticut poets, laid down his varied learning and hermit life at sixty-one. Philip Freneau continued his varied labors until his eightieth year ; and Roger Wolcott, better known as a statesman, than as the writer of a volume of poems, published in colonial times, lived to be eighty -nine. The illustrious Metas- tasio detained the admiring ear of Italy until eighty-four ; and Milton, at sixty-six, opened his long-eclipsed eyes on " cloudless light se- LONGEVITY, ETC. 149 rene." Who, that now thrills, while reading the sublime strains of " Paradise Lost," can forbear to smile at the criticism of one of its cotemporaries, the celebrated Waller ? " The old blind schoolmaster, John Milton, hath pub lished a tedious poem on the fall of man ; if its length be not considered as merit, it hath no other." Mason was seventy-two, ere the " holy earth," where " dead Maria " slumbered, admit ted him to share her repose ; and the tender Petrarch, and the brave old John Dryden, told out fully their seventy years ; and the ingenious La Fontaine, seventy-four; while Fontenelle, whose powers of sight and hearing extended their ministrations to the unusual term of ninety-six years, lacked only the revolution of a few moons to complete his entire century ; and Sadi, the poet of Persia, is said to have passed twenty years beyond it. Those masters of the Grecian lyre, Anacre- on, the sweet Sophocles, and the fiery-souled Pindar, felt no frost of intellect, but were trans planted as evergreens, in the winter of four score ; at the same advanced period, Words worth, in our own times, continued to mingle the music of his lay with the murmur of Ry- 150 PAST MERIDIAN. dal's falling water ; and Joanna Baillie, to fold around her the robe of tragic power, enjoying until her ninetieth year, the friendship of the good, and the fruits of a fair renown ; while Clotilde de Surville, the poetess of Languedoc, who flourished two or three centuries earlier, saw the autumnal vintage almost a hundred times. Montgomery, the religious poet, so long a cherished guest amid the romantic scenery of Sheffield, enjoyed life with an unimpaired zest till eighty-two ; and Rogers, long the most venerable poet in Europe, departed at the age of ninety-four. His first gift to the world, was the " Pleasures of Memory ; " his last effusion, an epithalamium, to a friend. It was composed, or rather uttered, at Brighton, to whose salu brious waters he had resorted, for a short sea son, in his extreme age. " Forth to the Altar, and with her thou lov'st, With her who longs to strew thy path with flowers, Nor lose the blessed privilege to give Birth to a race immortal as your own, That trained by you, may make a heaven on earth, And tread the path that leads from earth to heaven." So much for the poets, who have been ac cused of burning out the wheels of life, in the flames of passion, and the vagaries of imagina- LONGEVITY, ETC. 151 tion ; though according to the theory of one of their own number, " their thoughts make rich the blood of the world." " The solace of song," says Southey, " cer tainly mitigates the sufferings of the wounded spirit. I have sorrowed deeply, and found com fort in thus easing my mind ; though much of what I wrote at such times, I have never let the world see." True Poetry has surely an affinity with the higher harmonies of our being, with religion and its joys. Gathering the beautiful from na ture, and soaring into the realm of fancy for what reality withholds, she feeds her children on angels' food. She looks to the stars, and hears melodies that are above their courses. Of wits and humorists, Cervantes fed on his own mirthful conceptions, to the verge of three score and ten ; and Lady Mary Wortley Monta gue, until two years beyond it, indulged her lively and capricious temperament ; Mather Byles, who wrapped his bright fancies in verse as well as prose, reached his sixty-second year ; and Sidney Smith, at seventy-six, retained in a remarkable degree his intellectual keenness and originality. Literary pursuits seem not to have been 152 PAST ME BID I AN. adverse to the happiness or longevity of fe males. Mrs. Hoffland and Miss Jane Porter reached seventy-four in dignity and honor ; Mrs. Chapone, seventy-five ; Mrs. Piozzi, the biographer of Dr. Johnson, eighty-one ; Miss Burney, eighty-eight ; Mrs. Carter, eighty-nine ; and the venerated Hannah More died only one year younger, having with indefatigable in dustry, composed eleven books, after she had numbered her sixtieth birthday. Mrs. Eliza beth Montague and Mrs. Sherwood lived to be eighty-one ; and Mrs. Barbauld, to a still more advanced age. Of the latter, it was said by Mrs. Mary L. Ware, who visited her in 1823, " Though now eighty-two, she possesses her faculties in full perfection ; her manner is pecu liarly gentle, her voice low and sweet, and she speaks of death with such firm hope, that I felt as if I were communing with a spiritual body. 51 Didactic and philosophical writers seem often, in their calm researches, to have found refuge from that strife of thought which embit ters or shortens existence. Plato wove for the men of Attica his beau tiful and sublime theories, to the age of eighty- one. At eighty-five, John Evelyn closed his LONGEVITY, ETC. 153 eyes at his fair estate in Wotton, which he had embellished both as a naturalist and an author, engraving on his marble monument, as the result of long experience, that " all is vanity which is not honest, and that there is no solid wisdom but in real piety." The diligent and acute Bentley reached fourscore ; and Walker, seventy-five ; and Dr. Samuel Johnson, " whose name is a host," attained the same age, having with characteristic energy applied himself to the study of the Dutch language, but a short time before his death. Scaliger and Parkhurst fell only a few months short of threescore and ten ; Ainsworth passed three years beyond it ; Dr. Noah Webster, our own New England lexicographer, retained unimpaired until eighty- four his physical and mental health, with the rich store of his varied attainments. Lindley Murray, at more than eighty, continued in the active duties of Christian philanthropy ; and the philologist, Mitscheiiich, the Nestor of the German schools, and uncle to the famous chem ist of that name, died at" Gottingen, at the age of ninety-three. One who visited Humboldt, after he had passed his eighty-sixth birthday, says, " this illustrious philosopher is still in the full enjoyment of bodily health and vigor, 7* 154 PAST MERIDIAN. continuing as heretofore, to devote himself to the interests of science, with wonderful activity and perseverance," not having, it is asserted, in the last half-century, spent an idle hour. Sir Isaac Newton, as illustrious for Christian hu mility as for intellectual greatness, laid down his earthly honors at eighty-five ; and Franklin, who, in the words of Mirabeau, " stole the light ning from heaven, and the sceptre from ty rants," cheered us with the mild radiance of his philanthropy till eighty-four ; and Herschel rose above the stars, with which he had long communed, at eighty ; while his sister, whom he had so kindly made the companion of his celestial excursions, survived until ninety-eight. Yet it was not our intention to gather from the lists of science, its multiplied examples of ripe age and rare fame, but rather devote our pre scribed limits to the affinities of literature with longevity. The sympathies that spring from community of labor in the field of intellect, are salutary and graceful. Those minds that are above the petty asperities of rivalship, have often thus enjoyed a friendship of singular depth and fervor. This seems to have been the case with many of the distinguished writers of England's Augustan LONGEVITY, ETC. 155 age. Frequent association led to intimacy of plan and pursuit. They criticized each other's works, and in the attrition of kindred spirits, found that as " iron sharpeneth iron, so doth the countenance of a man, his friend." It has been finely said of Pope, that he " reverenced his equals in genius, and that of those friends who surpassed him, he spoke with respect and admiration." Of Gay it was asserted, by one of his literary associates, that " everybody loved him." Even the witty and sarcastic Swift shrank to open a letter which he feared might announce the fatal termination of a sickness that oppressed this friend. It lay long on his cabinet, unsealed, and was afterward endorsed by him, as communicating the mourn ful event of his " dear friend Gay's decease, re ceived December 15th, but not read until five days after, by an impulse foreboding some mis fortune." One would scarcely have expected such sentimentality from the fierce-tempered Dean of St. Patrick's ; but literary friendship softened him. The intellectual communion of Addison and Steele, cemented an interesting attachment ; and the majestic old Johnson, though with less of mental congeniality for Goldsmith, still from affectionate regard ex- 156 PAST MERIDIAN. cused his eccentricities, praised his talents, and rejoiced in his reputation. This amiable and salubrious element of in tellectual intercourse, is by no means confined to any particular age or country. In Germany, where native and noble impulse is the least fettered by conventionalism, in France, where genius and the labors of literature open the gate of distinction more readily than a key of gold, and in our own land, where, more than in any other, knowledge should be the heritage and glory of the people, there are many exam ples of unity of heart between those who, in different departments, advance the great work of mental progress. The poetic friendship of the Saxon mind has embalmed itself in the interwoven lines and lives of Beaumont and Fletcher. The Lake Spirits, Wordsworth, Southey, and Cole ridge, beautifully attested the . brotherhood of genius, until the " threefold cord " was sunder ed at the tomb. Much of this affectionate, generous sympa thy between gifted minds seemed to me still to exist in Great Britain, and though I was there too late to witness it in those most ge nial spirits, Sir Walter Scott and Mrs. Hemans LONGEVITY, ETC. 157 its sweet revealings were manifested by Maria Edge worth and Joanna Baillie, as well as by many younger and distinguished authors, who still live to bless us. May I be forgiven if I here add a little epi sode to please myself ? an interview at Hamp- stead, which Memory cherishes among her pen cil-sketches. It was a brighter vernal day than often occurs under English skies, when I drove thither from London, to see Joanna Baillie. I found her seated on the sofa, in her pleasant parlor, surrounded by many portraits, herself to me the most pleasant picture, of dignified and healthful age. On her cheek was some what more of color than usual, for she had just returned from a long walk among her poor pensioners, and the exercise, and comfort of active benevolence, lent new life and expression to her smile. She was not handsome, at least, so the world said ; her high cheek bones be spoke her Scottish extraction, and seventy-six years had absorbed any charm that youth might have bestowed. Yet to my eye she was beautiful. On the same sofa was her sister, Agnes, whom she so intensely loved, and to whom one of her sweetest poetical effusions 158 PAST MERIDIAN. was addressed. Though several years beyond fourscore, her complexion was singularly fair, her features symmetrical, and her demeanor graceful and attractive. Between them, was seated Rogers, the banker-poet, with locks like the driven snow, having come out several miles from his mansion in St. James's Park, to make them a friendly call. His smooth brow, and fresh flow of conversation, made it difficult to believe that this could be indeed his eightieth spring. It seems he had been kindly advising the authoress of " Plays of the Passions," to collect her" fugitive poems, from their wide spread channels, into the more enduring form of a volume. As she felt disinclined to the labor, he had himself undertaken and accom plished it, and was now discussing the success of the publication, and enjoying the high suf frages of criticism, as if they were his own. While their cheering, joyous tones, so pleas antly blended, and mental communion and ser vice seemed to have given them new youth, or rather to have kept it perennial, I felt that the world could not furnish another such trio, and was grateful for the privilege of beholding it. Even now, I imagine that I hear the voice of that venerable man, repeating with deliberate 159 intonation and perfect emphasis, his favorite pas sage from Mrs. Barbauld, who herself resided in the immediate vicinity, at Hampstead. It was written in extreme old age, but with unfaded vigor of intellect. " Life ! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather, 'Tis hard to part where friends are dear, Perhaps 'twill cost both pang and tear : So, steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time, Say not good night, but in yon happier clime, Bid me good morning." The power of fine writing, sometimes re mains unimpaired to the later evening of life. One of the most distinguished instances of this was found at the fair home of Sunny Side, on the banks of the noble Hudson. There Wash ington Irving, though approaching the eightieth milestone upon his journey of life, continued with much of the spirit, and external aspect of earlier years, to increase the number of his literary laurels. England, foregoing her prejudices against American literature, vied with his native clime, in paying him high and due honor, while in a dignified retirement, respected by all who 160 PAST MERIDIAN. * knew him, he marked the shadows lengthen ing in his path. The pen which had won for him so illustrious a place in the annals of the world, continued a loved companion, until his country stood a mourner at his tomb. Professor Silliman, senior, of Yale College, for so many years editor of the " American Journal of Science," is one of the most distin guished instances of vigor and symmetry both of mind and person, overcoming the frosts of time. Among his literary productions are two works, each descriptive of an extensive tour in Europe, made with an interval of half a century between them ; the later one yielding nothing of force, variety or brilliance to its predecessor, and possibly possessing even the advantage, by a greater admixture of the bone and muscle of science with the drapery of narrative. Over this author, eighty-five years have stolen, apparently forgetful of their effacing power. His noble form is still unbowed, his un spectacled eyes daunted by no obscurity of type or chirography, and his urbanity and courteous hospitality in full exercise. When considerably past threescore and ten, he re turned apparently unfatigued from a journey of four thousand miles to our far West, enjoying LONGEVITY, ETC. 161 the varied scenery as keenly as ever, and adding to the cheerfulness of his travelling companions, especially entering into the pleasures of the young, with a fresh, unclouded spirit. After ward, he was induced to deliver a course of Lectures on Geology, at St. Louis, Missouri, regarding the distance, the wintry season, and the consequent toil, as no greater obstacles than in early manhood. His maternal grandfather, the Rev. Joseph Fish, was for half a century the faithful and revered pastor of a church in North Stoning- ton, Conn., where a monument has been recently erected to his memory, by the descendants of those who had the privilege of his ministra tions. An interesting scene is recorded as having taken place in his chamber when death approached. General Silliman, the husband of his only daughter, appeared, leading to the bedside, his two little sons, Gold Selleck and Benjamin, to request for them the blessing of their saint ly ancestor. . This he solemnly gave, with an earnest prayer over those bright, bowed-down heads, which, now, with their silver locks, are still held in honor among us. 162 PAST MERIDIAN. Beside his dying couch there stood Two boys of beauty rare, And tenderly his hand was laid Amid their lustrous hair ; While sweet a grandsire's benison Fell on their reverent ear, As erst the patriarch Jacob blest His offspring held so dear. Say, did that prayer of faith obtain The joys that round them spread, And in the casket of their lives Such precious jewels shed ? "Wisdom and health, and length of days, And treasures that attend, The happy home, the pious heart, And to their race descend ? The accomplishment of lecturing, which re quires such a combination of talent is occasion ally among the perquisites of age. Dr. Cald- well enumerates several striking instances. " Dr. Shippen," he says, " delivered after his seventieth year, some of the ablest and most instructive lectures I have ever heard from his chair. " Cullen was a splendid lecturer in the medical school of Edinburgh, at the age of eighty-three, and Monroe, the elder, was equally distinguished at about the same age. Boerhaave, when more than seventy, attracted to his lectures, crowds of pupils from all parts of Europe. Blumenbach did the same from eighty-three to eighty-five ; and Professor Hufeland, when upward of fourscore, was the pride of his profession in Berlin, a city scarcely inferior to any in science and letters." LONGEVITY, ETC. 163 The popular lectures that so agreeably di versify the winters in most of our cities, and often attract such dense and delighted audi ences, are sometimes uttered by men past their prime. Distinguished among these, was the Rev. John Pierpont, a poet as well as a scholar, and one of nature's noblemen ; who when in his seventy-second year, delivered during a single season, his eightieth lecture, having travelled, to meet their consequent engagements, more than twelve thousand miles. Those who have had the privilege of listen ing to the Honorable Edward Everett's ele gant and classic lectures, especially that on the character of Washington, would scarcely imag ine that seventy winters had passed over him, or ever forget the impression of his perfect ora tory and pure patriotism. Turning again to those whose age did not shrink from the complicated toils of authorship, we perceive a work from the pen of the late George Griffin, LL.D., of New York, entitled " The Gospel its own Advocate." It was writ ten after he had numbered more than threescore and ten, and shows the research of a mind disciplined by the severe studies of jurispru dence, accustomed to weigh contending claims, 164 PAST MEEIDIAN. to throw words into the crucible, and through all their fermentations watch for the witnessings of truth. It embodies the force of a clear in tellect, and the conclusions of a long life. The learned author, whose life was protracted to beyond fourscore, might in his hours of literary labor, -have readily selected from the wide range of nature, or the familiar archives of history, a theme more accordant with the taste and spirit of the times, but religious]y chose in this, as well as in a previous work, to devote the gathered lights of his experience to the defence and illustration of that gospel wherein is our hope. The Memoir of the late Rev. Dr. William Croswell, of Boston, by the venerable Dr. Cros- well, for more than forty years Rector of Trin ity Church, in New Haven, Connecticut, is an octavo of more than five hundred pages, and undoubtedly the most affecting as well as judi cious tribute that a man of genius and piety ever received from a father of almost fourscore. Girding himself to lay in the grave the beloved one, who, according to the order of nature, should have closed his own dying eyes, instead of sinking under so great a sorrow, he roused himself, and with the same zeal and patience LONGEVITY, ETC. 165 that marked Ms own ministry until its close, constructed a monument which will endure when brass and marble perish. An interesting catalogue might doubtless be constructed of authors, who after the period of seventy or even of eighty years, have continued to interest and instruct mankind. Dr. Johnson prepared his celebrated " Lives of the Poets," when more than threescore and ten ; Hannah More wrote her work on " Prayer," at seventy- six ; Richard Cumberland, his attractive auto biography, at seventy -two, and his poem on " Retrospection," several years later. Dr. Blair, so celebrated for his Lectures on " Rhetoric and Belles Lettres," pursued his literary labors to a great age, and was engaged in preparing for the press an additional volume of sermons, when Death took the pen from his hand, in his eighty-second winter. At a still more advanced age, Walter Savage Landor retains the force and elasticity which marked his youthful style, and has recently interested himself in editing a work, entitled " Letters of an American." At his pleasant house in Bath, England, healthful and happy, he delights by that peculiar wit, which in early days irradiated the pages of his " Imaginary 166 PAST MEKIDIAN. Conversations," and gave him so high a rank among men of genius. The compositions of Dr. Franklin after he was eighty, some of which were dictated only a few days before his death, display much of that freshness and simplicity which gave a charm to the productions of his earlier years. The Rev. Sidney Smith, to the last, wielded a pen of power and versatility. " I do not con sider my education by any means finished," said he at seventy-four. Ever w r as he learning some thing, not only in the intellectual field, but in those sciences that promote the comfort of domestic life, and in the healing art, that he might benefit his poor parishioners. When in his remote and ill-remunerated curacy of York shire, he managed to erect a dwelling, to con struct a carriage that might bear him to his distant posts of labor, or accommodate his del icate wife, and also provide articles of furniture for the parsonage, combining convenience with some degree of grace, though the materials with which he could supply the workmen, were but deal boards. To elevate the condition of the surrounding villagers, he devised gardens for them, dividing several acres of his glebe LONGEVITY, ETC. 167 into small portions, and giving instruction at his intervals of leisure, in their right cultivation. A pleasant sight it was, those little expanses of rich vegetables, their crevices adorned with a vine, or flowering shrub, and the women and children cheerfully working there in early morning, ere they went forth to the labors of the day. There was not only added comfort for these families, but a pleasant emulation in their own hearts, to obtain the prize he had kindly offered for the best-cultured and most productive domain. The later years of his life were spent amid comparative wealth, and the clerical duties of London, yet his benevolence and delight in social pleasures did not yield to time. " Should old age prove a state of suffering," he says, " it is still one of superior wisdom. Then a man avoids the rash and foolish things to which he was tempted in youth, and which make life dangerous and painful." Those who have already attained that period, he thus advises : " Be diligently occupied in the highest em ployments of which your nature is capable, that you may die with the consciousness of having done your best. Keep on ; be energetic to the 168 PAST MEEIDIAN. last. Take short views ; hope for the best, and trust in God." A volume of poems, recently composed, during the short period of six months, by James Henry, M. D., and published in Eng land, show that warmth of fancy and grace of versification may flourish amid the snows of fourscore. "We give a specimen of this octogenarian poetry, which, like the other effusions in the book, is characterized by a spirit of gladness and hope, proving that the heart has not grown either old or cold. " Pleasant are the sun's rays, Hill and vale adorning ; Pleasant are the small birds Singing in the morning ; Pleasant is the Spring's breath, Thro' the thorn-hedge blowing ; Pleasant is the primrose In the garden growing ; Pleasant is the kettle O'er the bright fire singing ; Pleasant are the joy-bells In the steeple ringing ; Pleasant is the wild bee's Right contented humming ; Pleasant is the old friend's Long-expected coming." LONGEVITY, ETC. 169 No author of modern times, has probably reached the date of Lewis Cornaro, the Vene tian. His three treatises on health, and the means of its preservation, were written at the respective ages of eighty-one, eighty-five, and ninety-one. They are brief records of his own life and regimen, mingled with the reflections and precepts of a clear mind and sound judg ment. Their style is as perspicuous and spright ly as that of a young man. They earnestly recommend the strict temperance and judicious exercise of both body and mind, by which he was enabled to restore the health which at forty seemed prostrated, but which for sixty years, with unimpaired intellectual power, it was his privilege to enjoy. At the age of more than one hundred years, while seated in his arm chair, and apparently without suffering, he ceased to breathe. The author of the admirable " Essay on Old Age," remarks : " The propensity to inaction which makes its insidious visit at the commencement of the decline of life, is a weakness which, by temperance, and determined resistance, may be vanquished and banished. Three observances are necessary : strict tem perance in diet, drink, and in emotions, moderate exercise in the open air, and mental industry carried to a suitable extent, and bestowed on suitable subjects. Men of a high order of 8 170 PAST MERIDIAN. mental constitution, may thus render their decline capable of vigorous and efficient action to a very advanced age, not un fre quently to their eightieth or even eighty-fifth year." It might be pleasant to enlarge the list of those who, to the extreme point of human life, have continued to enlighten others by their intellectual efforts. But the present purpose is rather, by a desultory selection of examples, to prove that the mind may continue expand ing, and refining to the utmost limit of mortal existence. The only reason to the contrary, is the disease or decay of those organs through which it receives and conveys impressions. By the foregoing instances, as well as others which might be adduced, it will appear that there is no necessary connection between this declension and their diligent use. Indeed, through the action of the brain, the nervous system may doubtless be so developed as to acquire even a more vigorous tone. The fever of literary ambition, the rivalry of authorship, the morbid and insatiable thirst for popularity, are not numbered among the sanitary tendencies, or worthy ends of intel lectual effort. Neither of the abuse of God's great gift of genius to the gratification of selfish and depraved tastes, have I wished to speak, LONGEVITY, ETC. 171 but rather of its unison with the highest respon sibilities, of its open harmony with the peren nial flow of the springs of life, and of the long peace with which the Great Task Master hath sometimes seen fit to crown it. Friendship for the authors who have cheered or instructed us, is one of the peculiar pleasures of this present state of existence. We may have never seen their faces in the flesh, yet we have heard their voices. They may have died long before we were born. " But their speech hath gone forth to the end of the world." We are their debtors for high and holy thoughts. Pearls have they gathered for us from the pro- foundest depths. Flowers that are ever fra grant they strew around our solitary study. Their diadems sparkle through the darkness of midnight, as on our sleepless pillows we com mune with them. Benefactors are they, to whom ingratitude is impossible, for their gifts have become a part of ourselves. Literature, like those fields of benevolence in which all Christians can agree, offers a fair meeting-ground of compromise and of peace. It has room enough and to spare. Its laborers may come and go as brethren, and not impede each other. They may glean in safety, all day, 172 PAST MERIDIAN. like the true-hearted Moabitess, and " at night, beat out what they have gathered." Perchance, the world, like Naomi, may listen for their foot steps and bless them. CHAPTEK XII. " Like living, breathing Bibles ! Tables where Both covenants at large engraven were ; Gospel and Law, on heart had each its column, Their head an index to the Sacred Volume, Their very name a title-page: and next, Their h'fe a Commentary on the text." REV. BENJAMIN WOODBRIDGE.* IT is an interesting study to trace the influ ence of the varied employments of man upon his physical welfare. Some are manifestly hazardous, others destructive to life. They who " take the sword, are liable to perish by the sword." They who " go down to the sea in ships," prove by their brief average of years, at what risk they grapple with adverse ele ments. They who excite the earth to fruitful- ness, not unfrequently find added vigor among * The first graduate of Harvard University. 174 PAST MERIDIAN. the rewards of toil. Would it be irrational to infer that they who cultivate the fruits of immortality, might sometimes gather from their richness and fragrance, strength for the life that now is, as well as for that which is to come ? Among the less exposed and more sedentary professions, the employment of an instructor of youth has been considered favorable to lon gevity. The cheering influence of companion ship with the young, like an indwelling with fresh and beautiful thoughts, aids in preserving the youth of the mind ; and if in the perpetual inculcation of good principles, and a right prac tice, there is a development of feeling that makes even strangers dear, a solace for joys that are withheld, or have departed, it might be con genial also to physical as well as moral pros perity. It would, therefore, not be surprising to find among those who have chosen as their life's vocation, the highest interests of the soul, and by voice or pen labored to promote them, many instances of healthful adjustment of structure to pursuit, and the prolonged use of those powers which benevolence and piety called into action. Looking back to the earlier periods of Chris- AGED DIVINES. tianity, we find the venerated Jerome, on the borders of ninety, and Epiphanius on the verge of a hundred. Bishop Burgess, in that remark able work, entitled " The Last Enemy," so dis tinguished for learned research and profound piety, says, in adducing instances of long life : " St. Polycarp seems to have been an exception to the com mon lot, and Simeon, the second Bishop of Jerusalem, reached one hundred and twenty years ; both dying by martyrdom. Many of the saints and anchorites of the earlier ages, were famed for length of days. Paul the Hermit is said to have lived to be a hundred and thirteen : his follower, Antony, to a hundred and five ; and John the Silent to a hundred and four. The cenobites of Mount Sinai not unfrequently attained ex treme age. In our own day, a Baptist minister, at one hundred and eight, has addressed a congregation from the pulpit." Recently also, has been announced in Eng land, the death of the Reverend G. Fletcher, of the Wesley an denomination, who continued active in duty to the same great age. Bishop Leslie completed more than a cen tury, and Bishop Barrington, in his ninety-third year, having read the usual Sunday course with his household, told them it " was the last tim#" and ere the return of that hallowed day, yielded his breath so gently, that those who stood by his bedside were unconscious of the moment of transition. 176 PAST MERIDIAN. Thomas a Kempis, whose writings filled three folio volumes, and whose principal work, "The Imitation of Christ," which was com posed at the age of sixty, is said to have passed through more than an hundred editions, com prising forty in the original Latin, with its translations into various modern languages, reached his ninety-second year, not only with unimpaired mental powers, but with the per fect use of eyesight, unaided by spectacles. At an equally advanced period, was Bishop Huet removed, and also Bishop Wilson, whose " Sacra Privata," still breathes like living in cense upon the altar of the pious heart. The venerated Bishop Lloyd numbered ninety win ters ; and at the same age, Archbishop Har- court, having attended divine service at York- Minster, announced not again, beneath the arches of that noble cathedral, the " Lord is in His holy temple," being summoned ere the close of the week to a more glorious company, and a " house, eternal in the heavens." John Wesley was enabled to persevere in his wonderful toils till eighty-eight, having, be fore he reached his seventieth year, published more than thirty octavo volumes. On his sev enty-second birthday he writes : AGED DIVINES, 177 " I have been considering how it is, that I should feel just the same strength that I did, thirty years ago ; that my sight is even considerably better, and my nerves firmer than they were then ; that I have none of the infirmities of age, and have lost several that I had in my youth. The great cause is the good pleasure of God, who doeth whatever pleaseth Him. The chief means are, first, my constant rising at four, for the last fifty years ; second, my generally preaching at five in the morn ing, one of the most healthful exercises in the world; and thirdly, my never traveling less, by sea and land, than four thousand miles a year." Bishop Hurd, at a similar age with Wesley, closed a life of calm piety, by consigning him self, at the usual hour, to quiet sleep, from which he awoke no more on earth. Theodore Beza lived to be eighty-six, and Hoadley, eighty-five ; Lardner was a year younger at his death, and John Newton, four score and two. Warburton closed his learned la bors at eighty-one ; and Lowth and Porteus and Simeon, completed their Christian example at seventy-seven ; and Richard Baxter, at seventy- six, rose from the " Saint's Rest," which he so touchingly depicted, to that " Certainty of the World of Spirits," which he serenely antici pated. Archbishop Seeker, at seventy-five, taught how saints can die ; and William Jones, of Nayland, and Thomas Scott, the commenta tor, passed from faithful service to their great PAST MEKIDIAN. reward, at the age of seventy-four ; and Bishop Andrews, the master of fifteen languages, who was appointed by James First one of the princi pal translators of our present version of the Scriptures, continued until seventy-one his un tiring toils and devoted charities. Beveridge, beloved by all, ceased from his peaceful pil grimage at seventy, and Philander Chase, long the senior Bishop of the Episcopal church in these United States, closed the earnest labors commenced in early youth, and the pioneer bravery of his unresting age, in his seventy- eighth year. At eighty-six, the Kev. Solomon Stoddard, for more than threescore years pastor of but one church in Northampton, Mass., was still a zealous and effective preacher; and the Rev. Dr. Archibald Alexander closed eighty years of Christian example, in the serene light of in tellect and happiness. At seventeen he became a teacher in his native Virginia, at eighteen commenced preaching the Gospel, with singular fervor and fluency, and for the ensuing forty years discharged the duties of a professorship of eminence, in the theological institution at Princeton, New Jersey. Old age was never adduced by him, as an excuse from any labor. AGED DIVINES. 179 " There are two errors," he said, " to which the aged are exposed. One is that of refusing to admit that they are old. The other, that of permitting themselves to become so prema turely." Beautiful instances here and there occur of divines who have devoted all of life to one post of duty, thus enjoying better opportunities to mature their plans of usefulness, and to see blessed fruit ripen in fields of their own plant ing. Conspicuous among these was the Rev. Dr. Routh, who sustained for sixty -four years the presidency of Magdalen College, Oxford, and died at the age of ninety-nine. This learned and venerable man preserved good health, and habits of intellectual research, until the last. A bright link was he between the present and the past, having in youth known those who had personally conversed with Ken, Bull, and Bev- eridge. On the flourishing branch of the Church of England established in America he looked with a peculiarly affectionate interest, having, more than seventy years before his death, used his influence in inducing our own Seabury to seek consecration from the Bishops of Scotland. 180 PAST MERIDIAN. The extent and accuracy of his knowledge, and his suavity in imparting it, were proverbial. His judgment was so reliable, and his self-con trol so absolute, that men took counsel of him as of an oracle. Notwithstanding his extreme age, he was ever courteous to strangers, and accessible to the youngest person. An interview with the president of Magda len, was something to be remembered, even by men of letters and distinction. " That grave and solemn presence, that refined and somewhat austere politeness, the invariable pomp of full academic costume, the spare form, alive with intelligence, the inexhaustible library, the co piousness of quotation, and immense range of knowledge and memory, all recalled the majes ty of the past." A monument of his reputation as a scholar and theologian, is the work entitled " Reliquiae Sacra," a new and revised edition of which he prepared, while approaching his hundredth year. As a mark of the affectionate appreciation of the students under his charge, the following brief extract is subjoined from their last birth day tribute to this venerated guide and friend. " In studious care a century well-nigh past, Three generations RODTH'S fresh powers outlast ; AGED DIVINES. 181 A NESTOR'S snows his reverend temples grace, A NESTOR'S vigor in his mind we trace. Judgment not yet on her tribunal sleeps ; Her faithful record cloudless Memory keeps ; Nor eye nor hand their ministry decline, The letter' d toils or service of the Nine. Yet through his heart the genial current flows, Yet in his breast the warmth of friendship glows : On rites of hospitality intent, Toward Christian courtesy his thoughts are bent ; While from his lips, which guile nor flattery know, " Prophetic strains," of " old experience " flow. A blessing rest upon thy sacred head, Time-honor'd remnant of " the mighty dead," Through whom Oxonia's sons exulting trace Their stainless lineage from a better race. Still may thy saintly course their beacon shine ; Still round their heartstrings thy meek wisdom twine, Still be their loyal, loving homage thine ; And tardy may the heavenward summons come, Which calls thee from thy sojourn to thy home.' Bishop White, the beauty of whose silver locks and saintly smile still dwells in the mem ory of many, entered on his sacred duties, at the age of twenty-four, in the city of Philadelphia, and there continued as priest and prelate, for sixty-four years, until his death at eighty-eight. During two years spent in England, after the completion of his theological studies, where he also received orders, he numbered, among his privileges, to have seen and heard the voices of 182 PAST MERIDIAN. Bishop South, and Bishop Home, Dr. Samuel Johnson, the giant of English literature, and the sweet poet, Oliver Goldsmith. Amid the earliest troubles of our Revolu tion, he firmly espoused the cause of his coun try, was appointed chaplain to Congress, during the gloomy period of its flight to Yorktown, and continued, after its return, to be elected an nually to that office, until its permanent location at the present seat of government. The fourth year after his consecration as bishop, Philadel phia sustained, for several months, the ravages of pestilential yellow fever. Like the plague, it sud denly destroyed almost every victim whom it seized. The mortality was fearful. Those who had it in their power took flight. Among them, was every minister of religion except himself. Removing his family into the country, he remain ed, that he might lend the solaces of religion to all who suffered. Without regard to denomina tion, and in the poorest hovel, he might be found, pointing to the " Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world." Untouched by the De stroyer, while throngs around, and even the ser vants in his own house, fell, he stood firm at his post, between the living and the dead, lifting the censer of prayer, until the " plague was staid." AGED DIVINES. 183 Fearless in duty, and sincerely attached to the doctrines of his own church, he cherished no bigotry, or spirit of condemnation to those of differing opinions. In his meek soul, the pre lacy wrought no pride. It made his humility and condescension more effective. Time, talents, and fortune, he devoted conscientiously to the good of others. When, on the verge of ninety, he was borne to his grave, the beautiful city of his birth mourned as for a father. Feelingly and forcibly was it said of him by one of an other sect of Christians, that " he enjoyed a rev enue above a monarch's command ; his daily income was beyond all human computation, for whenever he went forth, age paid him the trib ute of affectionate respect, and children rose up and called him blessed." He was prized As a pure diamond that an elder age Bequeathed to this : for souls that wrap themselves In holy love, can never be alone, Each waking generation clasps its arms Fondly around them, and with plastic smile Learns wisdom from their lips. The Rev. William Jay, so widely known and highly prized for the fervor of his religious writings, was induced by circumstances to com- 184 PAST MERIDIAN. mence preaching at the age of sixteen. In this exercise he was so eminently successful, and took such delight, that it was mingled with his course of study, and he had delivered more than a thousand sermons ere he had attained the age of twenty-one. Afterw r ards, he was set tled as the pastor of Argyle Chapel, in Bath, where he continued for sixty-three years, until his death at eighty-four, encircled to the last moment, by the loving hearts of his people, and the reverence of mankind. Many occasional services did he perform in London and its vicinity, and as his directness and pathos were powerful in moving to deeds of charity, he was frequently persuaded thus to advocate the different forms of benevolence that marked his times. Age did not impair either his freshness of memory, or his power in the pulpit. The Rev. Dr. Johns, of Baltimore, who, during his travels abroad, listened to him in his own chapel, when in his eighty-fourth year, thus speaks : " To the inquiries of American friends, as to whose preach ing I liked best of all among those whom I heard while in Eng land and Scotland, my answer has uniformly been, the old preacher at Bath, whom you all know as the author of the ' Morning and Evening Exercises.' " AGED DIVINES. 185 Amid the severity and variety of his labors, and the fame that attended them, the loveliness of his domestic and social character was con spicuous. His delight in rural scenery, and the simple pleasures of horticulture, were great. When far advanced in years, he says, in a letter to absent children : " How many rose trees do you imagine I have in my garden? Five thousand four hundred and one. How fond I grow of flowers ! A pious female said lately, while dying, ' I go to a land of peace and of flowers? " So much did he desire to impart the pleas ures he thus received, that it was his habit to give each of his servants, on Sunday, when going to church, a large handful of flowers, charging them on no account to bring them back, but distribute them to the poor people, who would value them more, as sent from his garden. Cheerfulness and gratitude to God, pervaded his daily course of duty, and beauti fully has he thus described both : " The place of my residence, is of all others, that of my preference. My condition has been that happy medium of neither poverty nor riches. My friends have been many, and cordial, and steady. I have a better opinion of mankind than when I began my public course. I cannot, therefore, ask what is the cause that former days were better than these ? Surely, goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life." 186 PAST MERIDIAN. Twelve years before his death, the jubilee of his ministry at Bath was celebrated with all the enthusiasm that an attached and liberal people could evince. Gifts of great value, and touching import, were presented him, and cler gymen of various denominations united in testi fying respect for him, who had preached the gospel in the love of it. Original hymns for the occasion were prepared by the poet Mont gomery, from, one of which we select the follow ing stanzas : " To God he gave Ms flower of youth, To God, his manhood's fruit he gave, The herald of life-giving truth, Dead souls from endless death to save. Forsake him not in his old age, But while his Master's cross he beai:s, Faith be his staff of pilgrimage, A crown of glory his gray hairs." Seldom have I been more impressed by the happy temperament and almost youthful activ ity that may comport with threescore years and ten, than in the case of a minister of the Baptist denomination, met during my visit in Scotland, the Rev. William Innes of Edinburgh. He was in the habit of varying his more sedentary pur suits, by a summer excursion, on foot, among AGED DIVINES. 187 the rude scenery and people of the Highlands. Having prepared himself to preach in their na tive tongue, he collected large audiences, who listened with riveted attention to the truths of the gospel. This missionary service, which by most persons would have been deemed severe, was the only recreation in which he indulged during a whole year of steadfast, strenuous la bor. He would return from it with an elastic step, and a cheek and lip florid with health. Until between eighty and ninety, he was spared to guide a beloved flock by voice and example. Rev. Rowland Hill, at an equally advanced age, was enabled to persevere in his work with characteristic vivacity and eloquence. A pleas ing description of some of his octogenarian la bors, is given by the graphic pen of the Rev. Dr. Sprague, of Albany, the accomplished author of that invaluable work, the " Annals of the American Pulpit," in ten large octavo vol umes. While on a visit to him, he mentions his spirited going forth one morning to fulfil an appointment at . a church, fourteen miles dis tant from London, preaching at another on his homeward route at three in the afternoon, and 188 PAST MERIDIAN. again, with undirninished energy, a third ser vice, after his return to the metropolis. " I attended," says the narrator, " this evening, worship at Tottenham Court-Road Chapel, and found a thronged house, and the preacher seemed just as vigorous and fresh as if his faculties had not been tasked at all during the day. He told me that upon an average, he preached about seven times a week, besides having much of his time taken up with public engage ments, though he had then reached the age of eighty-three, and had been in the ministry sixty-four years. When I took my final leave of him, he said, ' Remember me kindly to any of my friends you may meet in America, and tell them that I have not quite done yet.' I have never seen, on the whole, another man to whom Rev. Rowland Hill could be likened. The son of a baronet, there was nobility impressed upon his whole appearance, and bearing, and character ; and yet no man labored more zealously than he for the improvement of the humblest classes. He had an exu berance of wit, and yet it was evident that he lived almost con stantly amidst the realities of the future. He was gentle, and mild, and winning, but when occasion required, would rebuke sinners, and come down upon the follies of the times, like a thunderbolt or an avalanche." Mingled with his originality and boldness, was a large benevolence, and tender pity for suffering. He erected Surry Chapel, and other places of wo'rship, at his own expense, tene ments also for the indigent, and for the widow, and was a visitant of the lowliest shed, where poverty mourned, even to extreme old age. The ecclesiastical history of our own coun- AGED DIVINES. 189 try, especially of New England, is rich in exam ples of consecration of tlie energies of a whole, long life, to a single church and people, thus giving broad scope for the blessed affections that spring from so hallowed an intercourse. Of these precious instances of pastoral constan cy, the annals of Connecticut have their full share. In 1665, scarcely thirty years after its first colonists stirred the depths of its unbroken forest, with " their hymns of lofty cheer," we find the Rev. James Noyes, in his sea-girt home, at Stonington, guiding a single flock, for almost fifty-six years, till recalled by the Chief Shep herd, at fourscore. The Rev. Samuel Andrew was the pastor of Milford, from 1675, for a period of more than half a century. Besides his ministerial labors, he devoted much time and attention to Yale College, then in its infancy. Being a man of learning, he was an instructor of its senior class, after the death of the first president, before its permanent location in New Haven ; and for nearly forty years continued an active member of its corporation. In 1694, at Windsor, one of the earliest settled towns on the banks of the beautiful Connecticut, the Rev. Timothy Edwards, as- 190 PAST MERIDIAN. sumed the pastoral duties, which for sixty-two years, he was enabled to discharge, with use fulness and happiness, to the age of ninety. Among his honors, should be recorded, that of training his illustrious son, the first Pres ident Edwards, one of the most devout men and acute metaphysicians of his own, or any other times. The first ecclesiastical Society in East Haven, had, from its birth, in 1708, for fifty years, enjoyed the fostering care of the Rev. Jacob Hemenway, whose cradle and grave were beneath the same fair shades ; and after his death, that of the Rev. Nicholas Street, who on the day that completed the fifty- first anniversary of his acceptance of the sacred office, went peacefully to the Redeemer whom he loved. For more than a whole century did those two servants of God watch over that one people. The Rev. Anthony Stoddard, from 1704, completed a pastorate of fifty-eight years, in the romantic region of Woodbury. A man he was of unresting activity, earnest and skillful in the wisdom of this life, as well as of that which is to come. His people sought counsel of him, in secular as well as spiritual AGED DIVINES. 191 doubts. In many of their physical ailments, he was their healer ; in their testamentary disposi tions, their adviser and clerk of probate ; in cases of conflicting interest, their protector from the evils of litigation. Nor was this versatility, and extent of practical knowledge, so used as to impair the dignity of the pulpit, but rather through an increase of personal sympathy, ren dered it more efficacious. The Rev. Moses Dickenson, who died at Norwalk, at the age of more than fourscore, had been sixty-four years in the active duties of the ministry. In his earlier prime, he offi ciated in New Jersey, but for more than half a century, was devoted to the affectionate peo ple among whom he closed his eyes, and who paid him truthful tribute in their simple monu mental inscription, as a " man of good under standing, well-informed by study, cheerful in temper, and prudent in conduct." The Rev. Solomon Williams took charge of the church at Lebanon, somewhat more than half a century before our Revolution, having scarcely reached the age of twenty-one. Other professions might have allured him, for he was a distinguished scholar at Harvard University, where he graduated at eighteen ; but the choice 192 PAST MEKIDIAIST. of his heart was theology. Fifty-four years did he faithfully teach and serve that people. If there were differences to be composed among them, he was their peacemaker. Their pas sions were wont to yield to his mildness, and force of reasoning. Unassuming, yet fearless, his gravity was mingled with a serene cheer fulness, readily beaming out into pleasantry, and it was sententiously affirmed of him, by one qualified to judge, that he was through his whole clerical course, u so affable that all might approach him, yet so dignified that none could do so without respect." The senior Governor Trumbull, a man of kindred excellence, and long one of the com municants in his church, characterizes him as " that eminently learned and pious divine." In a letter to his distinguished son, the second Governor of that name, dated in the spring of 1776, he thus touchingly announces his decease : " Alas ! he is gone from us. To the last, he was calm, patient and resigned. Let us follow him as he followed our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ. It will not be the fault of our dear departed Teacher, if we have not profited under his instructions. His friendship hath been one of the great comforts of my life." The same fair, rural township, where his AGED DIVINES. 193 ashes repose, was the birthplace of the Rev. Dr. John Smalley, for more than sixty years the beloved pastor at Berlin. For this long period he was exhibiting in that one spot, the beauty of Christian example, enforced by energy in the pulpit, knowledge of human nature, and soundness of judgment, in the daily intercourse of life. At the age of eighty- six, Death unbraced his armor, and taught him the triumph-song, " thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." The Rev. Dr. Benjamin Trumbull was or dained at North Haven, in 1760, and contin ued to discharge pastoral duty, with great fidel ity, among the same people, for sixty years ; at taining himself, the age of fourscore and four. To his ministerial toils, he added those of au thorship, bequeathing to posterity the " His tory of Connecticut," in two volumes octavo ; a " History of the United States," not entirely finished, with other works on theological sub jects. The patient research in accumulating facts and statistics, and the persevering labor, requi site to the accurate historian, and which writers in no other department can fully comprehend, he possessed in full measure. Venerated by 9 194 PAST MERIDIAN. all his cotemporaries, his pen and life wrought out the same memorial of intellectual eminence and saintly piety. The Kev. Dr. Andrew Lee, from 1768, offi ciated as the pastor of Hanover, sixty-two years, unaided and alone, and sixty-four, with the occasional assistance of a colleague. Grav ity, and " sound speech, that needeth not to be ashamed, were among the elements of his character. So were also, contentment with his lot and its duties, and an aversion to change, from principle. To a young minister, who con sulted him on the subject of taking a new parish, saying that it would " help his stock of sermons," he replied. " Will it help your stock of grace, brother ? Or would it help to build up the churches, if all their pastors turned itinerants, to save them selves the trouble of study ? " In his eighty-eighth year, he gave his last blessing to the rural scenes of his love and toil, and entered into the " rest that rernaineth for the people of God." And now, suffer me to pause by an unassu ming, sacred edifice, overshadowed by towering ledges of gray rock, at whose base glide the bright waters of the Yantic, From that pulpit, AGED DIVINES. 195 while one hundred and seventeen years notched their seasons upon those cliffs, and generation after generation yielded to the sickle of time, the voice of but two spiritual guides were heard, teaching the way of salvation. Of one, the fathers have told me the other, shed the baptismal water on my infancy, and drew my youthful feet within the fold of Christ. Dr. Benjamin Lord, born in 1693, took charge of the church at Norwich, in 1Y17, continuing there for sixty-seven years, until his death in his ninety-second year. Though he attained such longevity, his constitution was not vigorous, and the measure of health that he enjoyed, especially in early life, seemed the result of care, rather than of native strength. Still this prudence never withheld him from any duty of his sacred profession, for self was forgotten, when his Master called. Like an affectionate father with his children, he dwelt among his people. " In their hearts I have lived," said he, " and they in mine." At the age of seventy-four, he preached his half-century sermon, apparently possessed of more physical endurance than in his prime, and also, a sixty-fourth anniversary sermon when in his eighty-ninth year. Emphatically might 196 PAST MEEIDIAN. it have been said of him, " that they who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength." Dimness, in the later years of his ministry, gathered over his sight. Yet still he sat in the accustomed chair in his study, and wrote his discourses, partially by the sense of feeling, guiding, as well as he was able, the course of his lines upon the paper, with the fingers of his left hand. Then a gentle grand-daughter, who greatly loved him, would read slowly to him, with her sweet clear voice, what he had composed, until it was so impressed upon his memory, that he could deliver it with his wont ed fluency. Fitting scene for a painter, that man, so meekly beautiful, his hoary head slight ly declined, listening to his own sacred themes, from the filial lips of the fair-haired maiden. Indeed, his flock, who were pleased with what ever their old Shepherd did, said his sermons were even better than before he became blind, for the great labor of transcribing gave force of condensation, and his natural fullness of thought and language sometimes approached redundancy. Though of a gentle spirit, he was occasionally earnest and authoritative in de manding obedience to the requisitions of the Gospel. AGED DIVINES. 197 Difference of religious opinion, in those days, as well as in our own, sometimes inter rupted Christian intercourse. A degree of estrangement had been thus permitted to exist between him and the minister of an adjacent township. But the hallowed in fluence of age, and the approach to a clime of perfect harmony, melted the shades of doc trine, and the ice of prejudice. He could not bear that any cloud should obscure the sunlight of charity, and remembering this one instance of an alienated friend, determined him self to make advances for reconciliation. An interview was requested, and when the saintly old man saw the younger one approaching, he rose to meet him, taking both his hands, said with a tenderness that melted those present to tears, " Brother underneath thee be the Ever lasting Arms. May w T e dwell together where love is eternal." With what affectionate reverence did the people watch their blessed minister, as when past the age of ninety, having for almost sev enty years, spread before them the riches of the Gospel, and besought them to be recon ciled to God, he was led in his feebleness, Sun day after Sunday, to ascend the pulpit stairs, 198 PAST MERIDIAN. and pronounce the benediction. When he sometimes said, with trembling tones, and the smile as of an angel, " I am now ready to be offered up : the time of my departure is at hand," though every soul among them might have responded, " Thou hast fought the good fight, thou hast kept the faith," or lis tened for a voice from above, " Henceforth, there is laid up for thee a crown of righteous ness," yet in the depth of their love, they were ready rather to weep. " Like flock bereft of shepherd, when snows shut out the day." By his side, attentive to every movement, anxious to relieve him from every care, stood his young colleague, the Rev. Joseph Strong. Gray -headed men, who remembered his ordina tion, have described it as a scene strikingly impressive. The concourse was large and at tentive, the music devout and elevating. The candidate about to receive the sacred vows, was surrounded by many elders in the ministry. The preacher selected for the occasion, was his own brother, Rev. Dr. Nathan Strong, for more than forty years pastor of the First Congrega tional church in Hartford, and one of the most distinguished and eloquent men of his times. AGED DIVINES. 199 His text was from the sublime prophet : " How beautiful upon the mountains, are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace, that saith unto Zion, thy God reigneth." The rich and tender tones of his voice trembled with feeling, as at the close he said : " My dear brother, now I may address you by that endearing epithet, in all senses. We received our being, under God, from the same parents, were educated by the same nurturing kind ness, have professed obedience to the same glorious Master, and this day introduces you as a fellow-laborer in his vineyard. Very pleasant hast thou been unto me, my brother ; and never was my joy greater in beholding thee, than on this day's solem nities. Long may thy feet be beautiful on these mountains of Zion." Still deeper was the emotion, when the father of these two ministers himself long the esteemed pastor of a neighboring township, came forward, and solemnly charged this his young son, to be faithful to the high trust com mitted to him, in the presence of men, and of angels. Pointing to his predecessor in that pulpit, bending under the weight of years, yet from whose dim eye beamed a light that earth might not darken, he adjured him to " serve with that beloved and venerated man, as a son with the father, as Timothy with Paul, the aged." 200 FAST MEEIDIAN. . A model of reverent and filial regard was the whole intercourse of this youthful colleague with the aged Shepherd, until he exchanged his pastoral staff for a " seat at the Redeemer's footstool." The Rev. Dr. Strong of Norwich, was a man of great benevolence, and eminently successful in preserving the unanimity and res pect of his people. I hear now, in memory's echo, the inflections of his voice, in his wonder fully solemn, concise prayers, or when he com forted the mourners. I imagine that I still see him, as he passed in the streets ; his tall form, stately movement, the faultless neatness of his costume. The rudest boy hushed himself, and grew demure, as he approached. At school visi tations, he entered as a superior being. We children strove to be perfect at our recitations and maintained the most unexceptionable de meanor in his presence. A word from him was a thing to be boasted of, and always worth treasuring. The high respect paid in those days to the teachers of religion, was his with out a drawback ; so gentlemanly was he at all times, so perfect in social intercourse, and in life's hallowed duties. Never for the sake of popularity, did he lay aside the dignity apper taining to an ambassador of God. All his AGED DIVINES. 201 influence was consecrated on that altar where his heart was laid in youth. It was sacred to the good order, the improvement,, the pri vate and public virtue of the community among whom his lot was cast. Thus he continued, a benefactor to all around, until in the fifty-seventh year of his ministry, and the eighty-second of his life, the voice of griev ing affection said, of him, " the memory of the just is blessed." His fourscore years, Sate lightly on him, for his heart was glad, Even to its latest pulse, with that blest lore, Home-nurtured and reciprocal, which girds And garners up, in sorrow and in joy. The Rev. John Tyler was the first regularly settled clergyman of the Episcopal church in Chelsea, the southern section of my native city. He had been educated in Congregationalism, the prevalent denomination of the State, but embracing the doctrines of the Church of Eng land, crossed the ocean in 1768, to receive ordi nation, and the following year returned, and entered on the duties of the priesthood. During the war of the Revolution, when the mind of the whole country was so embittered against the Mother Land, that even her Liturgy did 202 PAST MERIDIAN. not escape odium, his church was closed for a period of three years ; but a band of faithful worshippers gathered in his own house, where divine service was performed every Sunday, without molestation. So conciliatory was his manner, and so consistent his piety, that when the passions of men ran highest, he was res pected as a true servant of the Prince of Peace. Conscientious and unshrinking in duty, he still bore upon his life and his brow, the motto, " giving no offence in anything, that the minis try be not blamed." The establishment of a new sect, in the im mediate vicinity of others, long accustomed to priority and power, requires both discretion and tolerance. These virtues seem to have been here, in mutual exercise, from the begin ning. Invitations to Episcopalians to hold their festivals in the more spacious Congrega tional meeting-house, were repeatedly given, and cordially accepted. At length an instance of reciprocity occurred worthy of remembrance. In the year 1794, a sweeping conflagration de stroyed the place of worship of the Congrega- tionalists, and the parish of Christ Church, in sympathy, voted to accommodate their bereaved neighbors in their own edifice, the pastor of AGED DIVINES. 203 each denomination officiating alternately, one half of every Sunday. This arrangement of Christian hospitality and courtesy, subsisted for several months in perfect harmony, and was acknowledged by a public expression of gratitude, inserted in the records of both societies. Good Mr. Tyler, in the benevolence of his nature, aimed to relieve bodily as well as spiritual ills, and became so skillful in extract ing the spirit of health from the plants of his garden, and roots of the forest, as often to become the healer of the suffering poor. In his own family he cultivated the percep tion and power of melody. Chanted hymns in sweet accordance hallowed their morning and evening devotions. Music, nursing holy thought, dwelt among them as a bird of heaven. One who observed the sweet countenances and amiable deportment of his children, in quired if he pursued any peculiar mode of education, to produce so happy a result. He replied : " If anything disturbs their temper, I say to them sing ; and if I hear them speaking against any person, I call them to sing to me, and so they seem to have sung away all clouds of discord, and every disposition to scandal." 204 PAST MEEIDIAN. He was possessed of persuasive eloquence, as a preacher, and a voice singularly sweet in its modulations. With meekness he bowed himself down to the griefs of others, while his devotion uplifted and upheld them. It was in his silver, plaintive tones, that I first heard the burial service of the Church of England. We stood by the open grave of a school-mate, suddenly smitten in her young bloom. Having neither of us brother or sister, we had striven to make up that deficiency to each other, till a great love had sprung up between us. As they laid her fair head beneath the broken summer turf and uprooted grass-flowers, that tuneful voice turned the grief and the silence into such melodies as angels use. Through a flood of childhood's tears, I said to my mother, " Let that same be read over me when I am dead." Afterwards, some of our young band ac counted it a privilege to be permitted to take a winter walk of four miles, (two going, and two returning,) to hear that godly man conduct the solemn festivities of Christmas. The last time I heard his voice of sweetness, was with the emotion which has never yet been transla ted into words : when the bride, about to leave AGED DIVINES. 205 father and mother, stands by his side, who is to be henceforth " her more than brother, and her next to God." When he imposed that hal lowed vow, which Death alone can sever, he was weak and tremulous with age. On his monument, amid the beautiful com bination of rocks, woods and waters, where so long his favored lot was cast, may be read the following inscriptioi " Here lie interred, the earthly remains of the Rev. John Tyler, for fifty-four years Rector of Christ's Church in this city. Having faithfully fulfilled his ministry, he was ready to be dissolved, and to be with Christ. His soul took its flight, Jan. 20th, 1823, when he had reached the eighty-first year of his age." Among other clergymen of the Episcopal Church, who have consecrated longevity, and faithful labor, to the benefit of one people, but of whose distinctive lineaments of character I am not in possession, were the Rev. John Beach, who continued at Newtown, from his ordination in 1723, for half a century ; the Rev. Dr. Bela Hubbard, at New Haven, from 1764, for forty- eight years ; and the venerable Dr. Mansfield, from 1746, at Derby, for the unusually long period of seventy-four years, himself reaching 206 PAST MERIDIAN. on life's dial-plate, the patriarchal point of al most a century. Give praise to God, from whom proceeds Each gift and purpose high, Strength to the pastor wise and pure, Strength to the aged to endure, Strength to the saint to die. The Rev. John Noyes accepted the charge of the Congregational church at Norn* eld, or Weston, as it is now called, in 1786, at the age of twenty-four. Emphatically his work was his delight, and it was said of him that " his smile was without a cloud, like the angel stand ing in the sun." The love of his people, as well as of an extensive circle of friends, followed him through life, and a part of his eulogy in death, was, that " he had no enemy." Having com menced to preach before his ordination, he had been more than sixty years engaged in the ministry, and died at the age of eighty-four. He gave a half centennial sermon, and pre pared one for his sixtieth anniversary. But between his laying down of the pen, and his entrance into the pulpit, Death came, and the valedictory was read by other lips. In it he mentions, that though ill-health, occasioned by over-exertion, had compelled him to an interval AGED DIVINES. 207 from stated pastoral duty, he had " never since his ordination, changed his residence." His example was in accordance with the opinion that " a long-continued ministry, under the same pastor, better promotes the stability of the churches, the soundness of faith, and the healthful growth of piety, than one that is sub ject to frequent and fitful changes." The Rev. Levi Nelson, ordained at Lisbon, at the age also of twenty-four, proved a most faithful and acceptable laborer in the vineyard of his Lord. Truly he was a man of a sincere and upright spirit. In the half century sermon, delivered to his one only flock, he mentions having given them from the pulpit, nearly five thousand sermons, and that but one of the com municants who welcomed him at his arrival, was then in the land of the living. Feelingly and reverently he thus alludes to the aged por tion of the congregation, who attended so punctually his Sabbath services, " not despis ing his youth." " Most of them seemed to possess a deep tone of piety. To this day, I love to think of their saintly appearance in the House of God, of the seats they occupied, and their significant expression of approbation of the word of truth." Rev. Dr. Nathan Perkins became the minis- 208 PAST MERIDIAN. ter at West Hartford, in 1772, at the age of twenty-three. He was a graduate of Princeton College, and studied his profession, under the venerable Dr. Lord, of Norwich. The people had been divided before his entrance among them, and it is no slight proof of the discretion of so young a man, that following as he did, twenty candidates, each of whom had some par tial adherent, he should concentrate and event ually render permanent, the affections of the whole people. More than sixty-five years did he serve them, never having been settled else where, though he declined other alluring calls. They appreciated his superior talents, his ready zeal for their good, his calm, unaffected piety. His influence over them, deepened as it was by time, became unbounded, for his contempla tive, well balanced mind, being capable of ruling itself, had the inherent power of ruling others. Mild in his temperament, and friendly to life's innocent enjoyments, those who had been favored with intimate intercourse, said they had never seen him moved to anger. Whenever, and wherever his people desired to hear the truths of the gospel, he was ready to address them, either in church or in school- house. Cherishing the love of literature, and AGED DIVINES. 209 learning, for which he was early distinguished, he delighted in the instruction of youth, and aided many in their preparatory classical train ing, as well as in theological studies. His manners were admirably adapted to win and maintain reverence both of young and old. He possessed a high-toned self-respect, a sensitive ness to clerical propriety in the smallest things, yet softened by Christian urbanity, and graced by the politeness of a gentleman of the old school. One who had known him from boyhood says : " The impression stamped deep upon my soul, from the entire being, spirit, and conduct of that man, is reverence for the Christian ministry, and unbounded honor for the gospel of Jesus Christ." He was a clear writer, and a pleasant per suasive speaker. In his distinct, deliberate utterance, every word was audible, and every thought had its full force. He preached a fif tieth and sixtieth anniversary sermon, and in reviewing the national changes which he had witnessed, remarks : " I have lived to see great revolutions in the world, in our own country, in commerce, and in mediums of trade. I have seen the evils of war, my native Land bleeding at every pore, and the prospect darker than midnight gloom. I have seen the mighty conflict that achieved our independence. I have seen 210 PAST MERIDIAN. the time of framing a national constitution of government, when all wise men and able statesmen trembled." The compensation of his services was small, one hundred pounds annually ; but being in possession of a considerable patrimonial for tune, he was enabled by prudence to indulge the promptings of benevolence. These were a part of his nature. " I am determined," said he, " that though I may die a poor man, I will die a generous one." His practice was uniform with this resolu tion. In contrasting the blessedness of giving, with that of receiving, he remarked : " I have always wondered, why Avarice, proceeding on its own plan of accumulating to itself the greatest quantity of good, never adopted benevolence as the basis of its action." He occupied but one abode, a parsonage which he himself purchased, large, plain, com modious, peacefully overshadowed by trees, and not inconsistent with simple elegance. Thither, in his prime of manhood, he led a gentle bride of seventeen, the daughter of a neighboring clergyman. A proficient was she in that house hold science which ensures comfort and com mands respect, and also, in the higher lore of AGED DIVINES. 211 living, earnest piety. There, while sixty-three years drew over them, they exhibited in beau tiful fidelity, all the conjugal and paternal virtues. In that mansion, it was once my privilege to see them. Eighty-six years had he numbered, yet his stately form yielded not to time, and the silver hair receding from his broad crown^ floated lightly and gracefully down the temples toward the shoulders. I was charmed with his affability and dignity, and his saintly words of the life to come. She too, the sharer and height- ener of all his joys, was still of a comely as pect, cheerful, and full of Christian courtesy. Scarcely ever in her long life had she been so ill as to commit to other hands the do mestic policy that she understood and loved. But at last, sickness came. Pulmonary con sumption, with its fiery shaft, and suffocating pang, smote her. Many months she endured that wasting agony, until the " bones that were not seen, stood out." Full of tender sympathy, yet as one amazed, the aged servant of God regarded her, who had so long been the light of his home, and heart. Like the Apostle Elliot, it seemed not to have occurred to him, that the fresher spirit, the 212 PAST MERIDIAN. younger yoke-fellow, should be first summoned. But he took his stand beside her, to strengthen / o her while she suffered the will of God. By her bed, he studied and wrote his sermons, and when she saw his noble brow radiant with holy thought, she uplifted her faith and followed him. He spoke blessed things to her of the Redeemer of Man, patient unto death, till she Jforgot her pain. Night and day he girded himself afresh from the armory of heaven, that he might up hold her, who battled more and more feebly with the Destroyer. Into the valley of the shadow of death, as far as mortal foot might go, he followed her. When all was over he repined not. His mourning was subdued, like the servant who reveres his Lord's will. But the charm of earth was broken. " To the afflicted she was always sympathizing," said the bereaved husband, " to benefactors, thankful ; to those in want, beneficent ; studying the peace, harmony, and good of all under my pastoral care ; she lived beloved, and died lamented, in the full hope of a blessed immortality." When the falling leaf was taking its first autumnal tint, she departed. Every day after ward, however deluged the earth might be with rain, or drifted with snow, that aged man AGED DIVINES. 213 went to spend a little time at her grave. Every day, except that which God had set apart for his own worship ; then he felt that his duties as an ambassador of heaven, were higher than his private griefs. Four months passed, and soon after the dawning of the New Year, as he was on his way to the sanctuary, a messenger invisible to mortal eye, met him, and said, " Come up higher." Ere the next Sabbath, he was laid by her side. Manifestly was his prayer answered that he might not outlive his usefulness. Till his eighty-ninth year he was fit for faithful service. Only five days did the failing flesh hold the spirit from its home. During that period he spoke not. Paralysis of the throat was his form of dismission. But with the eye and the smile of one ready for a glorious existence, he held communion with those around, and rec ompensed the daughter, who leaving her own family, came and took care of him with the tenderest love. Perchance, in that pause of silence, the waiting soul, disengaging itself from the love of earth, was better fitted to join the great song of the redeemed. The Rev. Dr. Calvin Chapin, was ordained at Rocky Hill, in 1794, where he continuec 214 PAST MERIDIAN. fifty-seven years, until his death, which took place within a few months of his eighty-eighth birth-day. His naturally strong constitution had derived additional vigor from an agricul tural training, the first twenty years of his life having been spent on the paternal farm. The same habits of zealous industry transferred to scholastic study, caused him to excel in that department. His attainments were afterwards deepened and matured by passing two years as the instructor of a school in Hartford, and nearly three as a tutor in Yale Col lege. He had great fondness for the em ployment of imparting knowledge, and al ways referred with pleasure to the period of time, thus devoted. He pursued theological studies with the Rev. Dr. Perkins of West Hartford, and entered on ministerial duty, with a deep sense of responsi bility to his Divine Master. " I am not aware," said he, " that in preparing a sermon, I ever inquired what would please or displease the people. What is immutable truth ? What do sinners need ? What do Chris tians need ? What is the preaching which Christ directs and will bless ? Such has been my rule. Preaching should be ear nest talk." In corporate bodies, in the formation of religious societies, in the promotion of philan- AGED DIVINES. 215 thropy, his efforts were conspicuous and his decisions respected. This prominence, and the appreciation that attended it, caused frequent applications to change his place. Some of these were attractive, with regard to perquisite, and personal ambition. Among them, was the offer of the presidency of two colleges. But the principle of pastoral constancy was strong within him. He agreed in opinion with his venerable friend, the Rev. Dr. Marsh of Weth- ersfield, who continued, a faithful and beloved pastor to the verge of fourscore, at one post of duty, that " he should as soon think of leav ing his wife, as his people." He was a man of intense and versatile in dustry. Though a thorough scholar, and de lighting in books, he knew how to use his hands to good purpose. He had constructive- ness in the management of tools, arid kept some thirty acres of land in profitable culture. He was skillful in the production of fine fruits and twigs grafted by himself were favorite gifts to friends. Now, as large, thrifty trees, they keep in memory, by their annual harvest, him, who was still more earnest to set in the mental soil, the plants of righteousness. He had the power of turning from one 216 PAST MERIDIAN. employment to another, without rupturing trains of thought. Order, economy, and the unities of time and place, seemed inherent habitudes of his mind. A full flow of spirits pervaded his whole course of action. Yet, he was inured to physical suffering, notwithstand ing his vigor of frame. Acute rheumatism was one of his maladies ; fever and ague, taken during a missionary tour at the West, taught him its fearful alternations ; and asthma, his foe from childhood, so annoyed him, that some times in the night he left his chamber, and mounting his horse, rode for miles, to parry the sense of suffocation. At others, he would spend whole nights in his study, overruling by reading and writing the consciousness of pain v and striving to turn his broken rest to advantage. He was one of the few who re quired slight refreshment from sleep, seldom more than six hours out of twenty-four ; and never lying down to rest in the day. He was not inclined to allude to his ailments, but what he could not conquer, endured with resolution, and singular cheerfulness. " Tell about low spirits ? "he would say " For shame ! I prosecute my work, without regarding any of these things." My own impression of him, from a single AGED DIVINES. 217 unceremonious interview, was that of a man who mingled with whatever he did the strength of a happy heart, and who influenced others, not only by innate power and piety, but by the simple truthfulness of his words, and the genial spirit of his manners. His domestic virtues and enjoyments were delightful. A daughter of the younger Pres ident Edwards, whom he won in the bloom of seventeen, for more than half a century was his chief earthly joy. Four years before his own departure, and when he was himself nearly eighty-four, she was called to eternal rest. " She made my home," said he, " the pleasantest spot on earth. Now she is gone, my worldly los is perfect." Yet still with cheerfulness, and those habits of industry that sought the good, for this life and the next, of all around, he lightened his lot of loneliness. He counted it a high privi lege that he was enabled to be profitably occu pied until life's close. Though relieved from the weight of pulpit cares, he attended, as usual, divine service the Sunday preceding his death ; employed himself industriously till the close of the week, and after a slight indispo- 10 218 PAST MERIDIAN. sition, seated in his chair, passed without a sigh to that heavenly world, which his satisfied spirit so calmly contemplated. Sweetly has he given his suffrage of old age, that period often so unwisely dreaded, and un justly delineated. " Having retired from every official demand abroad, without the shadow of embarrassment at home, and consequently finding myself perfectly at leisure, I yet seem never to have been in my life so busy. My often expressed opinion is, that notwithstand ing the decays that, unperceived by myself, I know age must be steadily producing, I never enjoyed existence better. In my chamber, I dwell as in a paradise. Here too, I am certain, the Infinite Mind is always accessible." But the patriarch among the pastors of his native State, was the Rev. Dr. Samuel Nott of Franklin. That pleasant agricultural town ship, formerly an appendage of Norwich, and called its West Farms, had become disturbed in the exercise of its religious polity. Two ministers had been dismissed, and numerous candidates presented themselves in the pulpit, without securing unanimity of choice. At length, in 1782, a young man of a serious and pleasing aspect stood there, by request, addressing them from the inspired passage, " I ask therefore, with what intent, ye sent for me." Verily, a good intent. And a good result. AGED DIVINES. 219 Seventy years of faithful service, until those bright locks should be white as the almond- tree. He adds another to the many instances, where a delicate constitution and feeble health in youth, are, by prudent care and the divine blessing, led to increased strength, and decided longevity. Probably such rewards are more likely to ensue, than where native vigor de pends arrogantly upon itself. During the first years of his ministry, he found it expedient to confine himself to a diet of milk, yet withdrew from no ministerial effort, parochial visit, or duty to his household. In his half-century ser mon he mentions that he had been withheld by indisposition, from the public services of the sanctuary but six Sabbaths for that whole pe riod. He speaks of six hundred and ten graves, over whose tenants he had performed the fune ral obsequies, in six of which slumbered his own children. I remember, in early days, to have seen him, more than once, in the pulpit of my own minis ter. He was tall, and of a grave aspect, and his words were searching and solemn. In my simplicity I likened him to an ancient prophet ; methought to the one who cried, " Stand ye in 220 PAST MERIDIAN. the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest to your souls/' With his clerical toil, he mingled occasional participation in the cares of instruction, prepar ing a number of young men for college, and su perintending the studies of others who were to enter the ministry. Feeling deeply the value of education, as those are prone to do who de fray its expenses "by their own exertions, he had given pecuniary aid in such measure as he was able, to between two and three hundred who were striving to earn its benefits. These char ities, with the thorough nurture of his own children, and the materials of comfort for his family, required, amid restricted means, the most judicious use both of time and money. Self-denial was a part of his religion. In this respect, he both taught and exemplified that the " disciple need not be above his Lord." Doubtless this virtue has something to do with growth in grace, as well as with consistency in a spiritual guide ; allowing no room for compe tition in show or extravagance, for indolence or luxurious indulgences that war against the soul. " By economy, industry, and the divine bless ing," says this primitive pastor, " I have never AGED DIVINES. 221 even nominally been expensive to my people, beyond the original contract. My salary is $333 ; about $230 by individuals, and twelve loads of wood annually, were kindly added. I have seen the time when, as far as compensation was concerned, I might have changed my situa tion advantageously. Yet, though it has been so common, especially of late years, or ministers and people, either from necessity, or a restless disposition to part, I have nevertheless thought it my duty to abide at the post where I was first stationed." The simple but rare morality of avoiding debt, and the higher philosophy that " made his wish with his estate comply," were features in his Christian example, worthy of imitation and praise. In consistence with these princi ples, and illustrating all the virtues of a cheer ful, deep-rooted, and self-sustaining piety, life drew on, amid the harmony and love of his flock, until he approached his ninety-ninth birthday. From the grave, we seem to listen to that venerated voice, repeating its time-hon ored counsels. " Dear friends, you have, each of you, your day, your sphere of usefulness. You can live but once. Let the world be the better for you, while you do live." 222 PAST MERIDIAN. Still continuing to search in the annals of Connecticut for those divines who have con nected faithful service with longevity, we. find the names of Rev. Dr. Joseph Bellamy, of Beth lehem ; Rev. Dr. Joseph Whitney, of Brook lyn ; Rev. Noadiah Russell, of Middletown ; Rev. Ammi R. Robbiris, of Norfolk ; Rev. Daniel Dow, of Thompson ; Rev. Thomas Can- field, of Roxbury ; Rev. Peter Starr, of Warren ; as having labored for fifty years, or more, with out change, at a single post of duty. The tomb stone of the Rev. Frederick W. Hotchkiss, of Say brook, records that his death took place at fourscore, after having been pastor of one church for sixty years. Yet not alone, to olden times, or the mem ory of departed worthies, do we turn for such honored testimonies. They are found in our own days, and among living witnesses. The Rev. Dr. Joab Brace delivered an interesting discourse at Newington, recapitulating his la bors, and the mutations of fifty years ; as have also, the Rev. Dr. Abel McEwen, of New Lon don, and the Rev. Dr. Noah Porter, of Farm- ington, the latter of whom continues his pas toral services. Numerous instances might be cited where, for thirty and forty years, the AGED DIVINES. 223 shepherd has guided in green pastures, and beside still waters, the same trusting flock. A complete catalogue has not been attempt ed. The space at my command would not ad mit of it. In pursuing the interesting research how far the duties of a spiritual teacher were favorable to longevity, the theory involuntarily presented itself, that continuance in one sphere of action, or the habitudes that are involved in that continuance, may possess a conservative in fluence. In the narrow circle which has been contemplated, evidence seems to have been ad duced, that this " patience of hope " has been often rewarded by prolonged capacities for the " labor of love." It might appear that avoiding to untwine and break the tendrils of holy affec tion, had given vitality to the vine, and sparing to pour the " oil of the sanctuary " from vessel to vessel, aided the frail lamp longer to burn. I am not aware that my native State trans cends others in the number of these beautiful instances of God's goodness, and man's constan cy. I have selected it, because the materials were more readily available. It is pleasant from other localities to select a few examples of clerical usefulness, freshly surviving amid the winter of life. The Rev. ^24 PAST MEKIDIAN. Dr. Eliphalet Nott, a brother of our Nestor of Connecticut, sustains, at a very advanced age, the office of president of Union College, Schen- ectady, N. Y., though its more onerous duties have, of late, been divided with another. For more than half a century, he has wisely and successfully conducted the interests of that im portant scholastic institution, having had under his charge several thousand students. His knowledge of human nature, and unbounded forbearance for the errors of youth, have been signally recompensed by their enduring filial at tachment. He was early distinguished for pul pit eloquence ; and that he retains the power of a forcible and lucid writer, is proved by an edition of his " Counsels to Young Men," en riched by additions from his pen a valuable and valued contribution to octogenarian litera ture. One of our periodicals records the interest ing circumstance that a pulpit in Salem, Mass., was occupied on the Sabbath, by two aged brothers, the Rev. Brown Emerson, its own minister, in his seventy-eighth year and the Rev. Reuben Emerson, of South Reading, in his eighty-fourth, both of whom have been in the exercise of pastoral duty for more than half AGED DIVINES. 225 a century. On this occasion, the usual services were combined with the administration of the sacrament, and the admission to that ordinance of a number of new communicants. The entire exercises were conducted by these venerable men, with a remarkable degree of physical vigor and mental fervor. The youngest having some slight indisposition, it was ob served that the older brother was assiduous to relieve him, and to assume, wherever it was possible, the heavier portion of the toils of the day. The Rev. Dr. Thomas C. Brownell, senior bishop of the United States, has presided almost fifty years over the Episcopate of Connecticut. He has long made Hartford his residence, and though unable, from feeble health, to discharge the sacred duties of his station, the tones of his tremulous voice are still a melody to all who hear them. His principal published writings are a large " Family Commentary on the Prayer Book," and the " Eeligion of the Heart and Life," a work in five volumes, presenting the condensed opinion of many distinguished divines, on the highest interests of the soul. In his introduc tion, he remarks : 10* 226 PAST MERIDIAN. " Man has affections to be matured and improved, as well as an intellect to be enlightened. It is not enough, therefore, that his mind embrace sound doctrinal views of Christianity ; his heart must be aifected by these doctrines, and renewed by their influence, and the effects of this renovation must be made mani fest in a pure and holy life." His wise and conciliatory counsels have re markably resulted in the harmony of his dio cese. In his address, at a recent convention, after speaking of the infirmities of age, and meekly reviewing his long spiritual administra tion, he says : " I am not conscious, in all that period, of having cherished unkind feelings to any clergyman in my diocese, or of having uttered unkind language to any one. Neither am I conscious that any one has, by thought or word, manifested unkiudness towards me. This is a source of unmingled satisfaction, and if the present should be our last meeting, I feel that we shall part in peace and mutual charity." A blessed suffrage. Long may the beauty of his venerable presence and serene example remain among us. The Rev. Lincoln Ripley a resident of Maine until almost an hundred enjoyed com fortable health, and occasionally participated in pastoral duty. A brother of his retained his ministerial charge in Massachusetts for more than half a century, until his death, at the age AGED DIVINES. 22? of ninety. This whole family present a distin guished instance of longevity. It originally comprised nineteen, eight sons and eleven daughters, all of them children of one pious, painstaking mother. Of this large circle, ten surpassed the limits allotted to the life of man ; five lived beyond eighty, and three beyond ninety years. Of the last named trio, one of the sisters is mentioned in the succeeding chap ter of this work, as illustrating the happy use fulness that may comport with great age : and three of the brothers, who selected the pastoral office in youth, faithfully consecrated to its du ties their heritage of days. The Rev. Dr. T. M. Cooley, of Granville, Mass., was a native of that romantic and almost Alpine region, where, as a servant of God, he labored for more than sixty years, until he ap proached his eighty-fourth birthday. His first sermon, after receiving license to preach, was delivered in that place of his birth, where he was persuaded to take spiritual charge of a con gregation, comprising father and mother, grand parents, and many gray-haired people ; though he accounted himself with humility, as " but a babe in Christ." Very happy was that long connection. Its fiftieth jubilee was affectionate- 228 PAST MEKIDIAN. ly observed, and its festive ceremonies and ad dresses preserved in the form of an interesting little book. The pastor, in his recapitulatory discourse, speaks of his interest in the supervi sion of schools, and his labors as a practical teacher, adding " Eight hundred pupils have received instruction from my lips, preparatory for college and for business, sixty of whom have already entered the ministry." On his eightieth birthday, he said to his people, that he could " hear, see, and speak with the facility of early manhood, and had never been confined to his bed, or his room, by -sickness, a single day, for threescore and four teen years." Long after that period, he continued to read without the aid of spectacles and to maintain epistolary intercourse with the pen of a ready writer, and a fair, clear chirography, which put to shame the fashionable illegibility. At the request of his attached parishioners, the sixtieth anniversary of his marriage was celebrated. Four generations gathered in gladness around the venerated pair, gratulatory letters from the absent accumulated, while the pleasant reunion, enlivened by music, and consecrated by prayer, AGED DIVINES. 229 formed one of the bright resting places for memory. In the earlier stages of his ministry, a^de- tachment from his church and people departed, amid tears and blessings, to form a colony in central Ohio. Forty-six days of weary travel, through what was then an unbroken wilder ness, brought the emigrants to their new home. Beneath a spreading tree, through whose almost leafless boughs the winds of November made bleak accompaniment to their strains of praise, they held their first Sabbath worship. But, in less than half a century, this daughter sur passed, in vigorous beauty, the mother whose name she bore, and extended a warm invitation to her first and aged pastor to pay her a visit. Disregarding distance, fatigue, and the weight of years, he undertook the journey. The pious joy with which he looked upon this branch of his planting, the enthusiasm with which he was welcomed, his earnest and eloquent efforts to build them up in the faith of the blessed gospel, gave to this patriarchal visitation an unique and almost apostolic character. The Rev. Daniel Waldo, at the age of nine ty-three, officiated as chaplain to Congress, dis charging the duties of that sacred office with 230 PAST MERIDIAN. zeal and acceptance. He enjoyed the extensive national library, the varied, intellectual society, and other advantages of his unsought position, with the earnestness of early manhood. Three years later, I met him at the bi-centennial cele bration of the settlement of Norwich, Conn., and remarked, with pleasure, his animated man ner, elastic movements, and promptness in ex temporaneous speaking. After passing his one hundredth birthday, he conducted the Sabbath service, and preached to a large and interested audience in the church of the Rev. Dr. William B. Sprague, of Albany, who impressively described his appearance, and the effect of the exercises. Though resigning the responsibility of parochial care, he enjoyed rendering occasional aid in the pulpit, speaking with strong intonation, and a clear, distinct elo cution. His present residence is in Syracuse, N. Y., where, approaching his one hundred and second birthday (September 12th, 1864), an in timate friend says : " He seems as likely to live as lie did ten years ago. His mental faculties are perfect, but his hearing is somewhat im paired, and his power of vision almost destroyed by the growth of a cataract. Yet, notwithstanding this deprivation, he is cheerful and sociable, perfectly reconciled to his lot, and appar ently in as full enjoyment of life, as any person around him. AUED DIVINES. 231 He is mentally as able to conduct services in the pulpit as ever, having a large number of sermons stored in his memory, and able to command any one of them at pleasure. His amanuensis is a granddaughter, who acts toward him the part of a good angel, and to whom he is wonderfully attached." One of the oldest active ministers in New England, and probably in the world, was the Rev. Mr. Sawyer, of Maine, who, when the har vest-moon of 1856 filled her horn, completed his century. Seventy-five years had he been an as siduous servant in his Master's cause, and en joyed almost uninterrupted health. In his cen tennial and patriarchal dignity, he visited and preached at his native place, Hebron, in Con necticut, which he had left when a boy of twelve, made a tour in the Granite State, beneath whose lofty White Mountains he com menced his youthful labors, wonderfully retain ing his ability to preach twice on the Sabbath, with a clear voice, sufficient to fill the most spa cious church. One who heard him close the exercises at the commencement of a theological seminary, with prayer, mentions admiringly his fine, strong tones, and the earnest love with which he poured forth, as if from the soul's depths, his reverence for God, his gratitude for a Saviour, 232 PAST MERIDIAN. and his desires that the gospel might irradiate every dark spot upon the earth. " Not the slightest of the attractions of the house where I was entertained," says the rela- tor, " was the society of a model Christian gen tleman, Deacon Adams, whose sight is not dim, nor hearing dull, nor natural force abated, though he lacks only some fifteen years, to bring him to the date of his aged minister. Twenty years more would bring him to that of Moses." " After all, Moses would not have seemed so very old, down here in Maine. Father Sawyer, and Deacon Adams, would not think much of his extra twenty or thirty years. Indeed, from a little incident that occurred, I should think that such patriarchs got quite accustomed to living. A minister in his prime, said to the former, * If you preach a sermon on your hun dredth birthday, I'll be there to hear you.' ' How do you know you'll be alive then ? ' was the quick repartee of that bright-minded patri arch, standing on the verge of his second century." An interesting jubilee was held in the open air, a summer or two since, amid the romantic scenery and wild mountains of Wales, to com- AGED DIVINES. 233 memorate the settlement of the Rev. D. Wil liams, at Breconshire. After introductory ser vices, one of the numerous clergymen present came forward, and requested his acceptance of various appropriate gifts, with the congratula tions of their donors. Large additions to his library, and no inconsiderable accession to his salary, came on that day, from the half-pastoral, half agricultural people, where, for fifty years, he has labored, with stainless reputation, and unwavering popularity. Still hale and vigor ous, he stood among them, able to preach thrice on a Sabbath without fatigue, and as the clear sunlight beamed upon him through the chequering branches, and the air, which was purity itself, stirred his locks, he seemed the personification of healthful and serene happi ness. The people over whom he presides have had but three clergymen for one hundred and sixty years, and it is a significant fact that they have enjoyed, during that period, uninterrupted peace and harmony. His amiable and pious consort, for half a century his helper and friend, was not forgotten, but shared in the liberal to kens and heart-felt attentions of the festival. Being what is called in that primitive re gion a pluralist pastor, and the country one of 234 PAST MERIDIAN. volcanic formation, the yearly labor of travel ling to meet the necessities of his scattered flock involves both fatigue and risk. Yet, during the 2,600 Sabbaths, which his fifty years have comprehended, it was stated that he had never once been disabled from preaching, or excused himself from any call of duty. By us, nurtured amid smooth roads, or flying at will in the rail-car, it would be impossible to conceive the toils of traversing that mountain ous country, with its bridgeless streams, its foaming torrents, its narrow, winding, decliv itous paths, often made invisible by mist and snow. But no tempest has kept at home on the Sabbath, or withheld from the out-door gatherings in North or South Wales, the apos tle of Breconshire. To meet these requisitions for half a century, it is computed that he must have spent some years in the saddle. Fifteen hundred from amid that sparse population, has he gathered into the fellowship of his church. A spectator of this commemorative festival says: " It was impossible to look at him, surrounded by forty of his younger brethren in the ministry, without mingled feelings of admiration and pious gratitude. Physically, as well as men tally, he was formed for his profession. His broad chest, and voice even now powerful, make the utterance of hours easier AGED DIVINES. 285 to him than breathing to many public speakers. His sermons have been always prepared with great care, and delivered with unfaltering fluency, and a glow of enthusiasm. There he stood, after a campaign of fifty years against an evil world, with an unblemished name, and lips whose eloquence no inconsistency had silenced. Honor to the brave old man, and praise to the grace of God, which has made him what he is." Though these selections from the ranks of aged divines, which are so pleasant to contem plate, must be accounted rather as exceptions, yet their number sanctions the conclusion that the sacred profession is not inauspicious to longevity. It would also seem, from the inves tigation of rather a limited sphere, that length of days has been more frequently attained, where the excitements of change of position and the trial of uprooting pastoral affections had been as far as possible avoided. To many ancient servants of the altar, the active usefulness of earlier days is not accorded. Still is it in their power to benefit man and to honor God. Rest, as well as labor, He is able to make profitable. The meekness with which they resign employments and efforts once so dear, and the cheerfulness with which they turn to remaining comforts, are salutary exam ples to the younger traveller. Their virtues, day by day, reiterate and make plainer on the 236 PAST MERIDIAN. map of life the narrow way to the celestial city. Their secret influence is as a purifying breath to the moral atmosphere. By the silent elo quence of holiness they still lead in the way of righteousness. The gentle and solemn memo ries of many years sublimate their spirits, while their chastened expectations surround them with a deeper tenderness of love. No frost of age May blight their pure example, or impair Those fruits, which 'mid the tears and clouds of time, Mellow to Heaven's own hue. " Oh, how comely is the wisdom of old men ! " says the sou of Sirach, " much experience is their crown, and the fear of God their glory." For those who, sustained by blessed recol lections, calmly wait the Divine will, the meta phor of a fine writer has peculiar significance : " The years of old age are stalls in the cathedral of life, for the gray-haired to sit in, and listen, and meditate, and be pa tient till the service is over, and so get themselves ready to say amen at last, with all their hearts and souls." CHAPTEE XIV. " Say ! wherefore sigh for what is gone ? Or deem the future all a night ? From darkness through the rosy dawn, The stars go singing into light : And to the pilgrim, lone and gray, One thought shall come to cheer the breast, The evening sun but fades away, To find new morning in the west." T. B. READ. IT is not as easy to multiply instances of remarkable women, as of aged divines. They have dwelt hidden amid the sanctuary of home. Drawing its curtains, we discover them here and there. The essence and crown of their ex cellence was not to have sought notoriety. Some have been exemplary in the science that promotes the comfort of home, some in acts of benevolence, some in developments of intellect or grace. Yet, however, different it 238 PAST MERIDIAN. position, or pursuit, one point of resemblance seems to have existed especially as years ad vanced, that of cheerfulness. When a child, I was so much delighted with the smile upon venerable brows, as to meditate making a catalogue of cheerful old women. To me they seemed more genial and beautiful than the young. Women wish to make themselves agree able. There is no harm in that. It is a part of their nature. But how do they expect to continue so when the attractions of youth forsake them ? If they once possessed beauty, it may have become a matter of tradition, of which the ob server is incredulous. The elegance of manners for which they were praised of old, may now be deemed antiquated, for there are fash ions in manners as well as in dress. What are they to do then, in order to avoid being disagreeable ? Let them make trial of the temper that looks on the bright side of things. Let them put on the spectacles that discern the bright side of character. The smile of such a tem perament is always admired. There is no Did School, or New School about that. Like KEMARKABLE WOMEN. 239 the pure gold of patience, it grows brighter for using. But look ye, my compeers ! Do not speak anything against the condition of age. Do not discredit it. In no case, admit its inferiority. It would be treachery in our camp. Declining years, and indeed every stage of this mortal life are very much what we choose to make them. We may go complaining all our days, or sing ing the heart song : " Simply to ~be Is a joy to me, For which my God I bless." I have known many of my own sex, who eminently cultivated this sunny spirit. Among them, I think at this moment of the only sister of Wordsworth, for whom the voice of mourn ing tenderly went up from the beautiful regions of Grassmere and Helvellyn. Amid exquisite scenery, with a soul attuned to all its loveliness, she had walked arm in arm with her loved brother for more than half a century. To him, her unfailing cheerfulness and refined taste were priceless treasures, and he admitted that some of the finest passages in his poems were suggested by communion with her. Destitute of his reserve and taciturnity, she had the 240 PAST MEBIDIAN. power of charming a company of listeners by her varied conversation, though entirely un obtrusive, and childlike in simplicity. " A true woman, is she indeed," said Coleridge, " in mind and in heart. Her person is such, that if you expected to see a pretty woman, you might think her rather ordinary, but if you ex pected to find an ordinary woman, you would think her pretty, so simple are her manners, so ardent, so impressive, and in every motion her most innocent soul beams out so brightly." A close observer of Nature, whose changes she loved, benevolent, affectionate, and doing good to all, Dorothy Wordsworth numbered eighty-four years, without a winter in her heart ; and with the sweet sound of Eydal's falling water, her pleasant memory mingles. Social intercourse is among the remedies for the ennui and inertie which sometimes attend declining years. Thus, Mrs. Garrick, the widow of the celebrated actor, continued to be acces sible and acceptable until ninety-seven ; and Miss Monckton at ninety-four, through her viva city and good taste in dress, drew around her throngs of gratified guests, in the metropolis of England. Hannah More, after her removal to Clifton, in her eighty-fifth year, was so attrac tive, that the number of her visitants was com puted at four hundred in the space of three REMARKABLE WOMEN. 241 weeks. Her conversational powers, charming the most elegant and refined, retained all their freshness and brilliancy, while her liveliness of manner delighted the young, and the warmth of Christian love, with the wisdom of her writings, inspired all with affection and confi dence. How touchingly does she unfold the secret of this cheerfulness, as she approached the close of life : " When and whither, belong to Him, who governs both worlds. I have nothing to do but to trust. I bless God that I enjoy great tranquillity of mind, and am willing to depart, and be with Christ, whenever He shall call. I leave myself in His hands who doeth all things well." " I have seen the better part of the race of life," said a dis tinguished writer, at the age of seventy-four. " Of the little that remains, I endeavor to make the best. On the whole, I am rather surprised that I have scrambled through it as well as I have. That I have lived on good terms with so many good people, gives me about as much pleasure as any other reflection." Philosophers have called woman the " home teacher? If she accept this distinguished office, she should renounce an inanimate and mourn ful deportment. The best precepts lose their force if lugubriously uttered. Aged people of a pleasant countenance and cheering voice have great power in winning the affections of child- 11 242 PAST MERIDIAN. ren. The infant stretches its arms to its grand parents, and little forms cluster around the chair of the silver-haired story-teller. The gentler sex have a great resource in age, from their varieties of interesting do mestic employment, and especially the uses of the needle. " I wish I could sew," said the Rev. Sidney Smith. " I believe one reason why women are generally so much more cheerful than men, is, because they can work with the needle, and so endlessly vary their employments. I knew a lady or rank who made her sons do carpet-work. All men ought to learn to sew." The simple forms of feminine industry are surely favorable to serenity of spirit, as well as conducive to respectability and comfort. A lady of eighty-four, in one of the smaller towns of Connecticut, found great pleasure from these unostentatious pursuits. During one year, she completed with her quiet knit ting-needles, forty-eight pairs of stockings, be sides constructing from fragments of calico, two large bed-quilts, one of them comprising more than three thousand separate pieces, symmet rically arranged. These fabrics were princi pally for the accommodation and relief of needy persons, so that with the peaceful conscious- REMARKABLE WOMEN. 243 ness of time industriously improved, was blent the still higher satisfaction of benevolence. Was not this a gainful exchange for the lassi tude and suspicious sense of uselessness, which is sometimes permitted to gather like rust over advanced years, or like a cancer to eat away their remaining vitality ? Still pursuing a course of activity and happiness, in her ninety-second year, is Mrs. Howe, of Great Valley, in the State of New York, a native of New England. Her industry and cheerfulness are alike proverbial. I have her photographic likeness in my Alburn, strong ly expressive of health, intelligence and perfect content. When ready to go to the room of the artist, she was persuaded by her grand children to put on an apron of checked blue and white, which she had herself spun and woven, at the age of eighteen. A white dress of extreme delicacy, composed of cotton and linen, and wrought in the same manner by her own hands, at the same youthful period, she has recently cut into pocket handkerchiefs, as keepsakes for her descendants. " Always cheerful and lively is she," says a descriptive letter, " even jocose at times, and in fact, good company for young people. She is 244 PAST MERIDIAN. fond of books, and keeps herself apprised of the intelligence of the times by newspapers, reading for hours every day, and always with out glasses. She also spends much time in knitting, and prefers taking charge of her own room, which she keeps in nice order. She has ever been industrious and an early riser, and likes to retire soon after nine. She has reared a family of ten ; five sons and five daughters, all of whom are in comfortable circumstances, and try to repay her for the care and hallowed precepts with which she trained them. With a bright smile overspreading her countenance, she says, ' I love my children very much, they are so affectionate and kind to me? Mrs. Baldwin, a resident with her son, the Rev. Joseph Baldwin of Plainfield, Mass., lacks but a few months of completing an entire cen tury. She still repeats with pleasure many passages from Dr. Young's Night Thoughts, and the Lyric Poems of Dr. Watts ; literature that was the favorite of her early years. Occa sionally also, she sings the hymns and anthems which were familiar in childhood. She enjoys divine worship, and participation in the Com munion, when able to attend church, and hears with animated delight of any increase of REMARKABLE WOMEN. 245 religious feeling and principle. She has been favored through life with good health, though recently the faculties of sight and hearing have become impaired. She was for several years a dweller under the roof of an elder son, the Rev. Elihu Bald win, the respected President of Wabash Col lege, Indiana, and after his lamented death, resided with a daughter, and then with a grand-daughter, until returning to her native New England. A lady who was intimately acquainted with her, until her removal to the East, says graphically : " She was up in the morning with the early dawn, singing in a low sweet voice as she ad justed her room, which she chose to do herself, and moving about the house with a quick, light step, and a happy face. She has always led a very active life, taking upon herself the entire management of domestic affairs, in the houses of both her daughter and grand daughter, having many doubts of their ability in such matters, but having entire confidence in her own. She never indulged in fretfulness or complaining, but accomplished with the most cheerful energy much which they might 246 PAST MERIDIAN. have preferred that she had left undone, or allow ed the servants to perform. The changes and innovations of modern times, often so trying to the aged, she generally bore with exemplary submission, yet it was a trial to her perfect neatness and order to see the parlor tables covered with books and pictures, which she thought should be placed in their legitimate departments, and shielded from dust. She frequently apologized for this apparent dis order to visitants, adding that it was not her fault that the tables were strewed with such incumbrances." Now, though the almost one hundred win ters that have passed over her abridge her ac tive participation in the concerns of housekeep ing, she is ready to lend her counsel and expe rience, and continues to amuse herself with the quiet employment of knitting. Those of our sex who have attained great longevity, though they may have widely dif fered in education and position, appear to have held in common two possessions, cheerfulness and industry. Constantly they seem to have kept in view the old Arabian proverb, " the idle are not to be classed among the living ; they are a peculiar kind of dead, who can never be buried." EE MASKABLE WOMEN. 247 A part of the regimen that promotes cheer fulness may be thus simplified : Make the best of everything, Think the best of everybody, Hope the best for yourself. Aged women of a sunny spirit retain a decided influence on those around them. Lady Strange, whose husband did so much for the encouragement of the fine arts in England, somewhat more than a century since, so far from underrating what time had spared, thus remarks in a letter to one of her female friends. " My health is excellent. My cheeks have still some bloom. I have two of my own teeth, and several brown hairs in my head. I might have been able to dance at any of my children's weddings. Is not this a tolerably satisfactory condition at eighty-four ? During the long absences of Sir Eobert from his native land in the earlier years of their union, she zealously and economically took charge of a large family, bringing up the boys with a judicious energy, and cheering her husband by the pen to " endure as patient ly as possible the privations of absence. Keep fully in mind all the blessings that you enjoy. Weak health may be helped, if due care is 248 PAST MERIDIAN. attended by cheerfulness, that best of medicines. Cheer up your heart, our situation has still many causes of thankfulness to God." After her death, which took place at her own house, in her 88th year, it was said by an accurate judge, that " at this late period she retained all the activity of a vigorous mind, that her lively, interesting conversation would be remembered and regretted by a large circle of acquaintance, and that she continued to unite the vivacity of youth to the dignity of age. Her whole life was usefully employed for the benefit as well of her own family, as that of those in whom she took a benevolent interest. Equally distinguished was she by purity of morals, and integrity of principles, as for excel lence of understanding." Yet it is not necessary to cross the ocean, or explore foreign lands for examples of women who have illumined long life by an unclouded spirit. Many such will be readily recalled, and among them one, over whom the tomb has but recently closed, Madam Susan Johnson, of Stratford, Connecticut. " I had visited her, only a little time before her death," said a friend, " in the lovely village of her residence. In the full enjoy ment was she of every faculty at the advanced age of eighty- REMARKABLE WOMEN. 249 four. She retained an unimpaired memory and kept up a con stant and elegant correspondence with her friends, until within a few days of her death. She was looking toward approaching spring with pleasant anticipation, for though life's winter was upon her, she delighted in the carol of birds, and the changing beauties of every season, watching them as in by-gone days, and sharing cheerfully the joys of those around her as in times of old." Quite recently also, has passed away, Mrs. Abigail Leonard, of Abington, Connecticut, hav ing almost reached her ninety-third birthday. She retained her physical and mental powers in healthful action until life's close. She was fond of reading and conversing, and nourished her activity by a habit of performing some use ful labor every day. Industry was her enjoy ment. Many tokens of this has she left among friends and acquaintances, as pleasant memorials. They can show the garments and other articles she took such pleasure in making while still among them. A Christian Dorcas was she, and her works 'praise her. Ever amiable and bright- spirited, she delighted to converse on cheering and instructive themes, and especially, as she drew near her final transition, to speak to her Pastor high and holy words of that country where she was to find a home, and of those skies which have no need of either sun or moon to give them light. 11* 250 PAST .MERIDIAN. Among those matrons who have nobly sus tained the hardships of settling our new Wes tern States, was one who emigrated during the last century to the wilds of Illinois. A large family did she bring up, and extended the help ing hand and loving smile to her great grand children even to the v.erge of fourscore. A model was she of useful industry. Scarcely ever would you see her seated, without a needle, or knitting-needles in busy exercise. By her side, also, on a little table, were ever lying her Bible, pen and ink. For the last thirty years of life, her spirit was so much soothed by the melody of rhyme, that she sel dom passed a day without composing a few verses. She never mentioned them to others, but linked the harmonies of thought and sound, of which the following is a specimen, as a source of solitary satisfaction, and a sweet ener of the spirit. " All eye?? on one Creator wait, The rich, the poor, the mean, the great, The ignorant, and wise, All on one common father call, The universal Lord of all, Sovereign of earth and skies. " Yet how ungrateful mortals prove, To him who is the Lord of Love, Nor trace the hand Divine ; REMARKABLE WOMEN. 251 O'erlook the guardian love and care, Nor render praise nor offer prayer, Forgetful they are thine. " Lord, may this thought be deep imprest Upon the tablets of my breast, Thy mercies still my song At sober eve, at morning light, And through the watchful hours of night, I would the theme prolong. " Dear to my soul shall be thy praise ; Tho' poor and weak the song I raise It would to Thee aspire, Teach me to pray, to praise, adore, To love, to reverence more and more, Impart celestial fire." Mrs. Esther Edwards, of Windsor, Connecti cut, illustrated somewhat more than a century since, what woman may perform in her own peculiar province, with an unbroken, unclouded spirit. Having accepted in early youth the station of the wife of a pastor, she imbibed the idea that it was her duty to release him wholly from all participation in domestic care. To her high-toned and unselfish mind, it seemed that he who had undertaken the guidance of immor tal souls, ought not to be annoyed by the daily questions of earth, " what shall we eat ? what shall we drink ? and wherewithal be clothed ? " On this principle she commenced and continued 252 PAST MEBIDIAN. to act. Neither was it a quiet utterance of " be ye warmed, and be ye filled ; " nor the simple ordering of obedient servants, that could ac complish her purpose. In village life, such was then the equality of condition, that the help of subordinates was not easily obtained, or to be habitually depended upon. Every repast, and every garment, must have not only the provid ing thought, but the aiding hand of the mis tress ; the minister's family must, of course, be a pattern to all, and his restricted salary was expected to sustain a free hospitality. The thoroughness of New England housekeeping, and the determination to avoid all pecuniary indebtedness, which was then an essential part of every honest education, involved both per sonal labor and rigid economy. Head, hands and feet were alike taxed. Yet nothing daunted, she, who in these days would have been counted in age but as a school girl, came modestly and bravely for ward, girded with the love of her husband, and the fear of God. Blessed with a good physical constitution, and a superior intellect, she failed not, fainted not. The simplicity of primitive times favored her, which required no elaborate costume, or ceremonious visit- REMARKABLE WOMEN. 253 ing, or luxurious appointment. Hence, she Lad more time for the training of her many children, which she deemed of unspeakable importance. She moved among them as a spirit of life and light. Kequiring of them that implicit obedience which was the first lesson of life in the olden time, she looked upward for the wisdom she needed for their future guidance, wearing on her brow the sweet trustful spirit of the sup plication ; " Lead me to the rock that is higher than I." Her illustrious son, President Edwards, who was educated at home until his entrance at college, in recording his filial obligations, delighted to pay her a tribute of heartfelt praise. It has been remarked by some of his biographers, that intercourse throughout the whole of scholastic training with mother and sisters, the latter of whom also pursued a course of study under their father's super vision, contributed to the benignity and do mestic tenderness that mingled with his strength of intellect. Ten daughters well instructed, and fitted to perform whatever appertains to woman's sphere, attested her maternal fidelity. During her sixty-three 254 PAST MERIDIAN. years of conjugal duty, she never neglected mental improvement, or sacrificed progress in knowledge. On these she depended still more for solace after the eclipse of widowhood fell upon her heart and house. For a very long period it had been her custom to keep upon her parlor-table a Bible, with some standard works of History, Biography and Theology, divested of controversy. Thither, at a specified hour of each afternoon, came the neighboring ladies, both old and young. First, a passage of Scripture was read, then a portion of the volume which was in consecutive perusal, which their revered friend and guide inter spersed with remarks or illustrations, readily suggested by her extensive knowledge, or pro found experience. The happy influence of such a habit on the intelligence of those around, it is not easy to compute ; and many in the morning of life, referred their first serious impressions to words thus falling from those aged lips. Looking with a cheerful temper upon every creature, and all mutations below, her life drew on, in usefulness and honor, to the ex treme period of ninety-nine years. Its wheels moved with music, until they were "broken REMARKABLE WOMEN. 255 at the cistern, and the golden bowl " filled with the waters of immortality. Modifications of physical infirmity are prone to attend advancing years. They should be expected, and if not welcomed as guests, serene ly tolerated. There is often amid these decays a kind of compensation in the dealings of Nature, a giving on one side, for what she takes on the. other. " I am delighted," said an eminent physician, " with this rheu matism in my knee, for now some other complaints that I had will vanish before it. We constantly perceive in the course of our medical practice, one disease counteracting or destroy ing another, so that the superintending care and wisdom of God is as manifest in the theory of indisposition, as in that of health." 1 ^ This occult science is but too little studied, and the laws of health, with that cloudless spirit which is the sister of health, are too often neglected. Still, were I permitted, with full scope, and a free pencil to enter the gallery of living portraits, many might be selected where silver hairs, and a furrowed forehead, are in unison with dignity, cheer fulness, and grace. I think at this moment of one, from whom the Atlantic divides us, in whom these linea- 256 PAST MERIDIAN. ments are strikingly prominent. Mad. Rotch, a native of our own clime, but a resident by marriage, for more than half a century, in the Mother Land, retains at ninety- four, not mere ly the capacity of pleasing and being pleased, but undiminished delight in domestic and social duties. That practical science which promotes the comfort of home, she still pur sues as a source of happiness, and notwith standing her great age, regularly adds to her household-book the items of daily expenditure, as in her vigorous prime. In conversation, she evinces remarkable sprightliness, and even brilliance of repartee. Her fine, erect per son seems to be rendered more attractive by the perfect neatness and simplicity of costume peculiar to the sect of Friends, of which she is a member. Her naivete, with the kindness of which it is an expression, charms the young, and promotes good-humor in all around. Her charities are constantly active, both in liberal bounties, and those slighter sun beams that brighten the current of human life. During her walks in those parks that revivify the great heart of London, it is delightful to see her distributing to the KEMARKABLE WOMEK. 257 children whom she meets some appropriate gift, lighting up the wondering smile upon their innocent faces ; or pausing to counsel the nurses, in what position to carry their infant charge, so as least to constrain their delicate limbs, and heighten as much as possible the benefits of air and exercise. Love of the little ones, so frequently an ele ment of happy old age, is a conspicuous trait in her nature, and may be traced in the fol lowing extemporaneous morceau, sent with the Christmas gift of a thimble, to one of her juve nile descendants : " Dear Minnie, 'tis a pleasant thing To ply the busy thimble ; I fancy I can see you now, With fairy fingers nimble Preparing for your doll a dress, Against the Christmas-day ; When we appear in all our best, Why should not she be gay ? Your Grandmamma, from her arm-chair, The distance scarcely measures, But often in a fancy-flight Visits her living treasures, Pleased to enjoy their cheerful smiles, Or hear their laughter hearty, And then to No. 8 returns, To welcome her own party." 258 PAST MERIDIAN. It is unfortunate that those who are con strained to feel the decays of time, should add a voluntary evil, that of mental depression. This tendency they ought at all points to resist. If they are compelled to resign the " harp and organ," and the full voice of their youthful minstrelsy, have they not still some humbler instrument of joy, which they can attune to the chorus of God's praise ? In their efforts to preserve a happy equi librium of spirits, they should have aid from those around. Younger, fresher sentinels should keep watch with and for them. Self- derogation is their besetting sin. Pleasant statements of passing incidents should be daily made them, to nourish the life of sym pathy, and keep it in healthful connection with the outer world. Has the eye grown dim ? Let the interesting page be rendered vocal by lips of love. Has the ear become wearied ? Let the sweetly distinct elocution, with a sustained but not too elevated tone, keep the heart from relapsing into solitude and silence. The young are not aware what a charm such attentions and services cast around them. The higher class of minds are more moved REMARKABLE WOMEN. 259 by them than by the brief blaze of beauty. An accomplished gentleman and critical ob server, on his return from foreign travel, was asked to which of the fair ladies whom he constantly met in elegant society, he should give the preference. He designated one who, among the reigning belles, had no distinction, giving as a reason " She is sweetly attentive to her hoary and sickly grand mother. She will make a good wife." Smiles and words of approval are medi cines to the aged. They are not in danger from flattery, as at earlier periods of life. They are often painfully unassured of their acceptance with the new generation among whom they lin ger as pilgrims and strangers. To suggest a becoming costume, or notice whatever is agree able in conversation or style of manner, gives them confidence in their social relations. To refer to their opinion or advice, is useful in keeping their judgment in exercise, as well as a proper tribute to their experience. Above all, never permit them to believe that their counsel, or company, are of little account. This gives strength to their chief temptation. The belief that they are considered supernumeraries, drives 260 PAST MERIDIAN. them to become superannuated. I hope no filial heart may be moved to compunction by the following graphic sketch from a maternal pen : Not long since, a comely man, scarcely past his prime, in quired at our door for the clergyman. He appeared disappoint ed and anxious, at hearing that he was out of town, and, on being questioned, replied " I have lost my mother. As this place used to be her home, and my father is buried here, we came to lay her beside him." " You have met with a great loss," I said, moved by sym pathy. "Well, why, yes;" answered the man. "A mother, in the general way, is a great loss. But ours had outlived her usefulness. She was in her second childhood. Her mind got to be as weak as her body, so that she was no comfort to her self, nor to anybody else. There are seven of us, sons and daughters. We could not find anybody who was willing to board her, so we agreed to keep her among us, a year apiece. But I had more than my share of her, for she was too feeble to be moved, when my time was out; and that was more than three months before her death. She had been a good mother in her day, and worked very hard to bring us all up." Without looking in the face of the heartless man, I directed him to a neighboring pastor, and returned to my nursery. I gazed on the little faces that smiled or grew sad in imitation of mine, and wondered if the day would ever come when they should say " She has outlived her usefulness. She is no com fort to herself and a burden to everybody else." God forbid that we should outlive the love of our children ! When the bell tolled for this poor mother's obsequies, I went to the sanctuary to pay the only token of respect in my power to the aged stranger, for I felt that I could give her memory a REMAKKABLE WOMEN. 261 tear, though the money-grasping children, to whom she had ceased to be profitable, might perchance have none to shed. Mournfully and long spoke out the church-bell, till its iron tongue had chronicled the years of the toil-worn mother. Re verberating through our quiet forests, and echoing from hill to hill, the knell continued until we had counted eighty-nine. Eighty -nine ! there she lies in her coffin, still and cold. She 'makes no trouble now, demands no love, no soft words, no ten der little offices. A look of patient endurance, we fancied also an expression of grief for unrequited love, sat on her marblf features. Her children were there, clad in weeds of woe, and in irony we remembered the strong man's words, " She was P good mother in her day." When the bell ceased tolling, the strange minister rose ir the pulpit. His form was very erect, and his voice strong, but his hair silvery white. He read several passages of Scripture, expressive of God's compassion to feeble men, and especially of his tenderness when gray hairs are on him, and his strength faileth. He made some touching remarks on human frailty, and dependence on God, urging all present to make their peace with Him while in health, that they might claim his promises when heart and flesh should fail them. Leaning over the desk, and gazing intently on the coffined form before him, he then said, reverently, " From a little child I have honored the aged ; but never till the gray hairs covered my own head, did I know truly how much love and sympathy this class have a right to demand of their fellow-creatures. Now I feel it. Our mother," he added, most tenderly, " who now lies in death before us, was a stranger to me, as are all these, her descendants. All I know of her is what her son has told me to-day that she was brought to this town from afar, sixty-nine years ago, a happy bride; that here she passed most of her life, toiling as only mothers ever have strength to toil, until she had reared a large family of sons and daughters ; that she left her home here, clad in the weeds of widowhood, to dwell among her children ; and that till health and vigor left her, she lived for her descendants. 262 PAST MERIDIAN. " You, who, together, have shared her love and her care, know how well you have requited her. God forbid that con science should accuse you of ingratitude or murmuring, on ac count of the care she has been to you of late. When you go back to your homes, be careful of your words and your exam ple before your own children, for the fruit of your doing you will surely reap from them, when you yourselves totter on the brink of the grave. I entreat you, as a friend, as one who has himself entered ' the evening of life,' that you may never say, in the presence of your families nor of heaven, ' Our mother has outlived her usefulness she is a burden to us.' Never, never ; a mother cannot live so long as that ! No ; when she can no longer labor for her children, nor yet care for herself, she should fall like a precious weight on their bosoms, and call forth by her helplessness all the noble, generous feelings of their natures." Is it to he supposed that there is in our country a disposition to deny the just claims of age ? We are not willing to admit so grave a charge upon a Christian people. Whatever would seem to countenance it, probably arises from the over-excited energies and haste of a young nation, intent to be rich, which, amid its countless inventions, hazardous enterprises, and insatiate accumulation, overlooks the lone and the silent, the slow in speech, and the slow of action. N. P. Willis, from whose graceful pen we have heretofore quoted, thus feelingly remarks on this part of our subject : KEMABKABLE WOMEN. 263 " The neglected portion of the great American family is old age we are sorry to say. Not that we, as a nation, are disre spectful to the old, or that they are denied or grudged any thing. We perform the negative duty to them, by avoiding all which shall occasion them offence or deprivation ; but we do not perform the positive duty of assiduously seeing that they occupy always, and only, the places of honor and prominence ; nor, more particularly, do we study to contrive, untiringly and affectionately, how to comfort, strengthen, cheer, and recuperate them. An old man in one house may have his chair in the drawing room, and his place at the table, and be listened to when he speaks, and obeyed when he commands. But in an other house he will have his easy chair cushioned and pil lowed, and his arm-chair at the table, and the cook will be busied most with what will newly nourish or refresh his more delicate appetite ; while all listen first for his words, and ad dress conversation to him as a centre, and eagerly seek for his commands as an authority. This (we assure the reader, from our well-weighed observation in both countries) is a fair pic ture of the difference between old age in America and old age in England. We have been sad to admit this to the comment ing traveller. "It is an unconscious fault in our country an oversight of our life too busy, our attention too overtasked, and our plans of home and pleasure too unsettled and immature. But the feeling for better things is in us. Time will bring it into action." What remains, therefore, for this interval, during which the country is getting ready to do its duty, for the aged in general, and for old women in particular, to make themselves of as much consequence as they can ? If this is a busy, calculating age, lejfc them bring a drop or 264 PAST MEBIDIAN. two of honey to the hive, and they will be the more regarded. If they may not, as formerly, spread the wing, On wide excursions, they can cheerily greet the working-bees, when they come laden home, and tell the young ones where the white clover grows. Habits of use fulness, varied according to the necessities of their position, and an agreeable demeanor, may be still their own. In the exercise of these, they will find comfort, until they rise to a high er estate. It might be in accordance with the spirit of thrift that prevails in a new country, to repre sent cheerfulness as a matter of loss and gain. Low spirits are decidedly unprofitable. They unhinge the nervous system. They are losses in the balance-sheet of life. " Discontent," says an ancient writer, " casts a cloud over the mind. It occupies it with the evil that disquiets, in stead of the means by which it is to be re moved/' Among things to be avoided by a woman of advanced age, are vain regrets. " Would that I were young again ! " is the wish some times uttered by lips that might be better em ployed. It has been well treated by a Scottish lady, Caroline Baroness Nairn, in the following REMARKABLE WOMEN. 265 lines, written after she had attained her seven ty-sixth year, and must therefore be admitted as competent to judge of the question thus ex amined : Would you be young again ? So would not I One tear to memory given, Onward I'll hie : Life's dark flood forded o'er, All but at rest on shore, Say, would you plunge once more, With home so nigh ? If you might, would you now Retrace your way ? Wander through stormy wilds, Faint and astray ? Night's gloomy watches fled, Morning all beaming red, Hope's smiles around us shed, Heavenward away. Where are the parted friends, Once our delight ? Dear and more dear though now Hidden from sight. Where they rejoice to be There is the land for me ; Fly, time, fly speedily Come life and light. The grave has just closed over one of the most distinguished examples that it is in our 12 266 PAST MERIDIAN. power to adduce. On the 22d of January, 1864, passed away from her pleasant abode in Brooklyn, K Y., Mrs. Gold Selleck Silliman, in the eighty-sixth year of her age. As no com mon loss, is this departure mourned by her sex and the community. Those heaven-born affec tions that constitute the happiness of home, that watchful prudence which, superintends its internal polity, those sympathies that breathe a refining influence over society, in her never slumbered. The assertion that literary and scientific pursuits in woman are detrimental to domestic duties, that their departments are so distinct as not to be united, she triumphant ly refuted. The antagonism that is supposed to exist between them she gracefully harmo nized, proving that it might be possible and beautiful to excel in both. Mrs. Silliman was the daughter of the Rev. Dr. Ely, a clergyman in one of the more se cluded townships of Connecticut, a scholar, a gentleman, and a devout example of the reli gion that he taught. Educated at a period w r hen the country w r as straggling with the burdens and privations of the Revolution, she was not exposed to the luxuries and excite ments that sometimes enervate the unfolding REMARKABLE WOMEN. 26Y mind. At the age of ten, guided only by her own spontaneous tastes, she diligently and de lightedly pursued the study of natural philoso phy. Unprompted and alone, she appropriated to herself a nook for that purpose, where she spent every hour that was yielded to her own disposal. Among the charms of the rural re gion that surrounded her, the wonders of as tronomy attracted her, and she aspired to un derstand the laws of the stars that sprinkled the nightly canopy. The library of her father comprised the standard authors, and her style was insensibly formed by familiarity with the British poets, historians, and classics. The employments con genial to her sex were not overlooked, but in culcated by a judicious mother, and she found perfect happiness in their union with mental action and acquirement. Love of nature, and love of knowledge, took possession of the child, and led her all her life long. In the language of the wise monarch of Israel, " they brought her to honor when she did embrace them." To the sphere of conjugal and maternal du ty, she brought the same fidelity and zeal which had characterized her intellectual pro gress. The care and instruction of a large fam- 268 PAST MERIDIAN. ily of children were most affectionately and sedulously discharged ; neither were the details of domestic duties deemed beneath her atten tion, or the claims of social intercourse neglect ed. No task that affection or prudence sug gested was considered too trifling or too formid able for her performance. Great native vigor of constitution, confirmed by a training of rural simplicity, enabled her to sustain severe and protracted sicknesses and trying bereavements with an equanimity and fortitude that encour aged and inspired all around her. Gentle, fem inine tenderness, and self-sacrificing love for her husband and children, were continually mani fested by labors for their welfare; while her benevolence, unerring good sense, and well-bal- anced judgment, Tendered her conversation val uable and attractive in the circles where she moved. Yet still she persevered in mental effort and scientific attainment. Her contributions to the American Journal of Science, during a long se ries of years, were numerous and important. Among them her articles entitled " Vitality of Matter" in vol. xv. ; " Polar Explorations" vol. xvi. ; " Geology of the Arctic Regions" and "Malaria? vol. xvii. ; and " The Causes of the KEMARKABLE WOMEN. 269 Aurora Borealis" vol. xix., liave gained the marked attention of profound minds. Many valued emanations from her pen on moral and patriotic subjects, distinguished by power and pathos, have appeared, from time to time, in various periodicals. Her paper on " Aerolites " is a remarkable production, eminent for clear ness of style, closeness of argument, and origi nality of theory. Its appendix contains a chro nology of aerolites, commencing with the fall of a meteoric stone at Crete, 1,407 years before the Christian era. This was published in Eu rope, and is the only one of her productions to which her name is affixed, which was done in compliance with the earnest solicitation of friends. Of an exceedingly interesting treatise on the " Fur Trade, and Fur-bearing Animals," w r hich, or a great part of it, was copied in one of the Edinburgh magazines, without reference to its source, she pleasantly remarks, in a letter to a friend : " As I do not write for fame, it did not disturb me that this should have been published in Blackwood, without acknowledg ment, making it appear as original in that journal. Indeed, I was not a little pleased that it should be so well thought of." Essays embodying great research, she dedi cated simply to the diffusion of knowledge, per- - 270 PAST MEEIDIAN. sonal ambition having no share in her intellec tual element. Singularly free was her nature from selfishness or a desire of display. Neither could she tolerate any form of insincerity. Gen erosity and justice were ever prominent in her words and deeds. One perfectly qualified to judge, has said : " The strictest and severest truth, love and fear of God, entire absence of selfishness, courage that never quailed under trials, with the most tireless tenderness for those whom her heart held dear, marked her character, even more con spicuously than mental superiority, or the ex cellence of her writings. Without the slightest attempt at popularity, or seeking and expecting attentions, she received the distinguished con sideration and respect of all who knew her. I can truly say that I have never seen a person of more unswerving goodness, more infallible in wisdom, or w r ho possessed such exalted, pure, and tender sentiments, without mixture of self and apparently without capacity for a mean or unworthy thought." The children whom she so fondly and faith fully nurtured, repaid her with an enthusiastic love. She was emphatically their pride and delight. Fervently they and their father rose REMARKABLE WOMEN. up and called her blessed. Around the couch of her last, prolonged sickness, their ministra tions were like those of angels. The stress of more than fourscore years had left the great mind and heart wholly unimpaired. Their clay casket, indeed, trembled and suffered, but Heav en's patience girded the soul. Death has set his seal upon her noble and beautiful life. Did He not accomplish that which, from youth, had been her daily petition, " Lord, make me that which Thou wouldst have me to be ! " Was it not His will that she should be numbered with those " spirits of the just made perfect," whom, while here on earth, she so much resembled? The kind and wise provision of our Heaven ly Father, by which the losses or needs of the several periods of life find substitutes or com forts, is a pleasant contemplation. Youth must lose the sleepless affection that watched over its early helplessness, but exults in the vigor that can take care of itself, and in the developed in tellect that knows what to do. Love resigns the fragrance of its first flowers, but is repaid by the rich clusters ripening beneath its leaves. Age feels its strength decline, but rests peace fully in the shadow of the filial love, that itself 272 PAST MERIDIAN. had reared, inhaling mental health from the beautiful ministries of nature. Has the rose of June less brilliancy and freshness, than in our childhood ? Is it a slighter favor than of old, to behold it, as it goes clustering up to the cottage-eaves ? " Ev ery, bud grows more lovely, the song of the bird is sweeter than ever ; " said a man on the verge of eighty-eight (my own blessed father). Ah ! thus should it ever be, with those who draw nearer to flowers that never fade, to melody that never ceases. By the daily exercise of such a spirit, should they prepare for the " exceeding weight of glory " that awaits them. Let us educate ourselves for Heaven's high bliss, by cheerfully partaking of that which earth yields. Now and then we meet a person, who seems unwilling to forfeit the privileges of murmuring and wearing a sour, sad face. These but height en the evils they deprecate. Others, from a naturally easy temperament, more readily avoid repining. Yet a capacity for sustained enjoy ment under the pressure of years, needs the support of piety ; a spirit in harmony with its lot and with its Law-giver. Would it hot be well for all to try to enjoy REMARKABLE WOMEN. 273 their closing day ? What is the use of hanging a pall over the setting sun ? Shall we spread the wet napkin of the wicked Hazael, that smothered the kingly sleeper, to extinguish our own " life of life," while yet breath is left us? Rather, with the armor recommended by the eloquent Apostle, " in the patience of hope, and the labor of love," would we press onward. " Wax old in thy work" says the son of Sirach. We will ask wisdom to do so, and to " stand in our lot, at the end of the days." " A fine writer has said, ' The ancients might call age sad, but that is not what we Christians ought to do. If any old persons think there are about them, things that might sadden them a little, let them become Christians, and this melancholy will change into something like a gentle prayer, always rising from within the soul.' " Every year that we are permitted to live enhances the debt of gratitude. Yes, every full- orbed year, with its four beautiful seasons, its twelve perfect months, its days and nights, set in rose-diamond and ebony chased with gold, are glorious gems, for the casket of eter nity. O Lord, our Governor ! for every added year, receive our thanks. We will not hide 12* 274 PAST MERIDIAN. their number, or prize them less because they are many ; but, taking each as a blessed gift from Thine Hand, embalm them with the mel ody of praise. CHAPTEE XY. stmttjj " Argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope ; but still bear up, and steer Right onward. MILTON. How beautiful is the setting sun ! Long lines of golden rays tremble along the horizon ; crimson and purple, like the banner of a king, go floating up the zenith. As a benefactor, he retires from the scenes he has blessed, and through the calm twilight men tenderly remem ber him. Thus should a good life draw toward its close, fruitful in benefits, and glowing with re flected love, until the evening star hangs out its silver crescent. Thus should its westering sun beams be treasured in the grateful hearts which have been cheered by its path of radiance. 276 PAST MERIDIAN. A selfish old age must be, of necessity, an .unhappy one. It is an indwelling with losses ; lost comeliness, lost vigor, lost pleasure, lost im portance among the bright and swift current of moving things. The hopeless search for what is departed, depresses the spirits, and prepares them to partake in the declension that marks the body. If whatever brings the mind into bondage must impair its force, the decay of memory, of judgment, the adjunct to memory, and of self-respect, which, in a measure, depends on both, is more likely to occur and become palpable among aged persons, who think prin cipally and permanently of themselves: It is cause for thankfulness if through the changes, the charities, or the trials of life, they have beefi taught to lower their own expectations from a world they are soon to leave. Salutary and lovely is God's discipline with those whose long pilgrimage is nearly finished ; withdraw ing the props on which they leaned, loosening the heartstrings that were too closely or proud ly earth-bound, that the soul, ere she tries her unfettered wing, may " spring up and take strong hold on Him who made her." It is pleasant to recall whatever of brilliance we may have seen gather around the western WESTERING SUNBEAMS. 277 gate of life, and preserve it as a guiding light for the feet of others. How noble was the bra very with which the poet Dryden battled the storms of fortune, lifting an unquenched spirit like a torch amid rocks and waves. When he might through age have naturally wished to re lax the pressure of literary labor, he was stimu lated anew by paternal affections. Just on the verge of his seventieth year he was apprised of the approaching return of his son from Kome, in a feeble state of health ; and though he had scarcely completed the task of preparing the second edition of his translation of Virgil for the press, he took no breathing time, but imme diately contracted to supply a bookseller with ten thousand verses, at sixpence a line, saying pathetically of his invalid child, " I cannot spend my life better than in preserving his.' 7 Among the men who, taking in their hand " their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor," gave signature to the Magna Charta of our national freedom, quite a number were ap pointed to length of days, with unfaded re nown. Of this band of fifty-six, some of whom, in the course of our Revolution, encountered dan ger, as well as loss, it seems remarkable that 278 PAST MEIIIDIAN. ten should have survived to between eighty and ninety, and four to between ninety and an hundred. The Honorable Charles Carroll, of Carroll- ton, Maryland, attained the greatest age, and long after his compeers had departed, lingered to witness the growth of the liberties which they had planted under the storm-cloud. He had received many advantages for the acquisi tion of knowledge, having been taken to Europe at the age of eight, and placed under accom plished instructors. After a collegiate course in France, and the study of law in England, he returned to his native land at twenty-eight, a finished scholar and gentleman. His powerful pen was early useful in de fence of the endangered States, and a series of essays, published at an important crisis, had in fluence in arousing the zeal of patriotism, and aiding its successful result. Many offices of honor were appointed him in his own State, as well as those of Member of Congress, and Senator of the United. States, in all of which he evinced high integrity and abil ity. His clearness of judgment, extensive learn ing, and decision of character, gave weight to the opinions he advocated, and the course he pursued. WESTERING SUNBEAMS.- At sixty-three, he chose to retire from pub lic toils and distinctions. Then, his love of do mestic and social intercourse, his vivacity of temper, and refinement of taste, shone forth without a cloud. Pilgrimages were made by strangers to see, in his own nobly hospitable mansion, this patriarch of the patriarchs. There, surrounded by his descendants, to the third generation, and venerated by all, on the 14th of November, 1832, he ceased to live, falling short only three years of a complete century. The Honorable William Ellery, of Newport, who, from the memorable era of 1776, contin ued nine years a member of Congress, after ward took his seat as chief justice of the supe rior 'court of Ehode Island. When the age of seventy released him from this office, he accept ed that of collector of customs for his native city, affectionately serving her till the day of his death, which took place at the age of ninety- three. So social and agreeable was he, notwith standing his advanced age, and such power of vivid and graphic narration did he continue to possess, that the young sought his company for their own pleasure. It was on the morning of his death, Febru ary 15th, 1829, that his family physician called, 280 PAST MERIDIAN. not professionally, but as a friend, to enjoy for half an hour his delightful society. In his usual health, he was seated in his arm-chair, reading Cicero de Officiis. But while the tide of conversation flowed freely and brightly on, the quick eye of the medical man detected a change in his venerated companion. He was laid upon the bed, but resumed reading the page which was interesting him when his friend entered. Gently the pulse ceased its motion, and the unclouded mind glided from its tene ment of clay. Deep humility of spirit was the gift of this extraordinary man, and a firmness in duty, not influenced by human applause or blame. The wheels of life moved more calmly, arid perhaps longer, from the serene tempera ment of his religion, which, under every ob stacle or misfortune, solaced his own soul and that of others with the sublime precept, " The Lord reigiieth, let the earth rejoice." The sunbeams of usefulness have sometimes lingered to a late period around the heads of those who had taken part in the pioneer hard ships of our new settlements. I think now of one, but recently deceased, at the age of eighty- five Judge Burnett, who was numbered among the founders of Ohio, that State which sprang WESTERING SUNBEAMS. 281 from its cradle with the vigor of a giant. After the completion of his classical and legal studies, he exchanged his fair ancestral home in New o Jersey for a residence in Cincinnati, then in its rudest stages of development. As he climbed the steep river-bank he saw only scattered cab ins, a few framed buildings, and a log-fort, marking the frontier of civilized life. Corn- forming his habits to those of an unrefined com munity, and claiming but a few physical com forts, he exercised his profession in the courts of Detroit and Vincennes, when travelling was by bridle paths, by blazed trees, fording wild streams, and camping on the wet ground. Edu cated in the school of Washington and of Ham ilton, who were honored guests at his father's house during the former period of his life, he nobly dispersed around him the wealth of an upright and polished mind. By persevering in dustry and moral and religious worth, he won general confidence : while in due time a seat in the Senate of the United States, and upon the bench of the supreme court of Ohio, attested the respect of the people. Population spread around him like the pageantry of a dream, and Cincinnati, among whose rudiments his manly hand had wrought, echoed ere his departure to 282 PAST MERIDIAN. the rushing tread of 130,000 inhabitants. His health had been originally feeble, but the en durance of hardship, and, what is still more re markable, the access of years, confirmed it. At more than fourscore, he moved through the streets with as erect a form, an eye as intensely bright, and colloquial powers as free and fasci nating, as at thirty. When, full of knowledge and benevolence, and with an unchanged intel lect, he passed away, it was felt that not only one of the fathers of a young land had fallen, but that one of the bright and beautiful lights of society had been extinguished. Of Daniel Webster it was affirmed that the clearness of his own great mind continued to increase and to flow forth with even a fuller ra diance at seventy, than in his prime. Like the reformer Wycliffe, he was more and more " in tent upon being understood, intent upon im parting the conviction or passion of his own mind to other minds." With this singleness of purpose, and power of truth, was also mingled a depth of feeling, scarcely indicated by his massive form and majestic deportment. " Yet," said an old man of more than eighty, who had long intimately known him, " he could sym pathize with all. Ever had he a kindly word WESTEKING SUNBEAMS. 283 for the child, the youth, and him of hoary hairs. He could not look upon a fair landscape, or fields waving with grain, without blessing God for permitting him to live in a world so teem ing with beauty." Thus, with the radiance of thought and feeling still glowing in his deep- set eye, " How well he fell asleep ! Like some grand river widening toward the sea, Calmly and grandly, silently and deep, Life joined eternity." The capacity of the Duke of Wellington as a counsellor in all matters of state, a wise di rector of his own large estates, and an ornament in society, was as great at eighty-five, as during any previous period. His bodily activity and powers of endurance were also remarkable, though in boyhood his constitution was pro nounced extremely delicate. More than once I have observed with delight his arrival at the House of Lords, on some wintry morning, on horseback, when, throwing his reins to the sin gle servant who attended him. he would pro ceed with vigorous step, and cheek brightened by exposure to the keen air, up those long flights of stairs which, in the old parliament building, were formidable to younger feet. 284 PAST MERIDIAN. One evening he was seized, while in his place, with sudden illness, like a premonition of paralysis. In leaving the house he chanced to drop his hat, and realizing, with singular clearness of mind, that should he stoop to re gain it, the rush of blood through the brain might be dangerously quickened, passed on without it, holding his head in its usually very upright position. One of the peers, noticing his departure, anxiously followed, and finding he had no carriage in attendance, induced him to accept his own, and return home. For two or three days bulletins were issued from Ap - ley House, to allay the anxiety of the people, with whom he was an idol. Then, again ap pearing in his accustomed parliamentary seat, he sustained some pending resolution with a brief and lucid speech, proving that indomi table energy and strength of will, which per vaded even the latest periods of his existence. England has been singularly favored by the protracted light shed upon her counsels by heads that wear the silver crown of age. At eighty-six, Lord Brougham speaks forcibly and well ; Lords Lansdowne and Aberdeen, at more than threescore and ten, are eminent ministers of state ; and Lord Lyndhurst, the son of our WESTEKING SUNBEAMS. 285 own artist Copley, until his death, at the age of ninety-one, was able to take part in the discus sion of intricate public affairs, and ranked by good judges among the greatest of living orators. Born in the same year with Lord Lynd- hurst, 1772, and in the same fair city of Boston, the Hon. Josiah Quincy still exhibits unbroken intellect. The pen retains its force, that traced in early life the memorial of his illustrious father, and afterward gave to our country, be sides other valued- works, a history in two vol umes of her most ancient seat of learning, Har vard University, over which he had himself presided with honor for more than sixteen years. That fervid eloquence which on the floor of Congress, and on so many civic occasions, cast forth its bold metaphors and coruscations of wit, is not yet extinguished. It is probably an unprecedented fact that at the age of more than fourscore, he should have been urged to accept a nomination to the mayoralty of his native city, an office which he had held thirty years before ; leaving at his retirement indel ible marks of his taste and efficiency in the financial prosperity, the humane institutions, and elegant structures of this Athens of England. 286 PAST MERIDIAN. At his delightful summer residence in Quin- cy, superintending the minute and perfectly balanced policies of his rural domain, he enter tains his guests with that fine blending of frankness and dignity peculiar to the true gen tlemen of the old school. At my last visit there, it was a pleasure to see his erect form, healthful complexion, and what is still more remarkable in our changeful climate, an entire set of white teeth which the art of the dentist had never interpolated. Surrounded by the sweetest filial affections, the man whom the elo quent Everett has pronounced the " ornament of the forum, the senate, and the academy," gracefully interchanged the pursuits of Cicero for those of Cincinnatus. My own native city was formerly rich in in stances of longevity, united with health and protracted power of enjoyment. It was a cher ished desire of mine in childhood, to be permit ted to invite a party of those pleasant ancient people, who, residing within a short distance of each other, preserved social feeling in delightful freshness. I think now of a gentleman, Capt. Bela Peck, whose tall, athletic form and habits of active exercise yielded not to the pressure of WESTEKING SUNBEAMS. 287 more than ninety years. He was fond of driv ing his own carriage himself, and of persevering in the useful habitudes of earlier life. I well recollect the tones of his friend]y voice and his decided opinions on points of truth and equity. A just and upright man was he ; would that his type of character were more frequent in our own times. A noble library of valuable books beautifully arranged in the Free Academy at Norwich, will embalm his name and memory for future generations. Till ninety-two winters had drawn their shadows over her path, Madam Hannah La- throp, a native of the same city, retained traces of the beauty and grace which had distinguished her youth. Without resigning the cares of housekeeping, in whose perfection of order and taste she had been proverbial, or deputing its polity and details to others, she continued to interest herself in home-happiness, and in the surrounding households of her children. Surely age, in her case, was not unlovely. And when, with mild decline, its sunset came, With powers still unimpair'd, and speaking words Of piety and love, all willingly, As a confiding and obedient child Turns to its father's house, she went above. From his fair estate at Brookline, in the vi- 288 PAST MERIDIAN. cinity of Boston, where so many have been made happy by hospitality and benevolence, has been recently transferred to a higher state of existence, Col. Thomas H. Perkins, in his ninetieth year. It was to me a source of exult ing pleasure while abroad, to meet him arriving in London, with unalloyed spirits, an energetic and excellent traveller, both by sea and land, though then on the confines of fourscore. The voyage, from which so many young persons shrink, was to him no obstacle ; indeed, he afterward repeated it, enjoying the changeful and boisterous scenery of ocean, as when in his prime. His munificence, with its living rays, bright ened until life's sunset. His sympathies for the sightless had been expressed by such large bounties, among others, the gift of a mansion, valued at forty thousand dollars, that the insti tute for their instruction was incorporated by the name of the " Perkins Asylum for the Blind." Truly 'was it said of him by Mr. Ste venson, at an assemblage of the merchants of Boston, whose profession he had so honorably represented throughout a long life : " Literature, science, and art, each received his homage and his sacrifices ; but his chosen WESTERING SUNBEAMS. 289 altar was in the temple of charity. No story of distress fell upon his ear, without making his manly heart throb to the overflow of tears. It was not weakness, but greatness in him. Those tears were the mingled offspring of sorrow and of joy ; sorrow for suffering, and joy that he could do something to alleviate it. o " ' His full heart kept his full hand open.' " A touching scene occurred in Fanueil Hall, the year previous to his death. Daniel Web ster, speaking there with fervid eloquence, of the liberal aid that had been rendered to the cause of education, morality, want, and woe, by the affluence of Boston, alluded personally to the venerable Colonel Perkins, then seated near him on the platform. " Will he rise at my request," he exclaimed, " and show his benevolent countenance to the people ? " He who had been of old distinguished by a lofty form and kingly beauty, stood up in the feebleness of hoary time. Three cheers, into which the heart of grateful thousands were merged, rent the concave. And yet three more followed. Then the great orator said with trembling lip : 13 290 PAST MERIDIAN. " God bless him ! He is an honor to his city, an honor to his State, an honor to his country. His memory will be perfumed by his benevolent actions, and go down a sweet odor to our children's children." Still traversing the streets of Boston, in his ninety-second year, regardless of winter's cold, or summer's heat, may be seen the venerable mis sionary, the Rev. Charles Cleveland, intent on deeds of mercy. The orphan, so often over looked in the world's great strife, the suffering widow 7 , the poor emigrant, with his sick stran ger-heart, hear, approaching their desolate attic, or dark, damp cellar, a tireless foot, and are cheered by the blessed smile of one who, like the aged apostle John, has concentrated all Christian duties in the precept to " love one another." In a school for infants, under the superintendence of his wife, he manifests con tinual interest, and by affectionate deportment and kind counsel to all, without distinction of sect, shows the perpetual play of those hallowed sunbeams that repel the depression of age, and herald an unclouded day. In the department of editorial labor, whose unresting, keen-eyed research is rewarded in our age and country by such immense influence WESTERING SUNBEAMS. 291 over public opinion, there have been instances of the long and prosperous endurance of the severe tax it imposes both on mind and body. Among these, the Hon. Theodore D wight was eminently distinguished. A native of Massa chusetts, he resided the greater part of his life in Connecticut and New York, and conducted in both of the last-named States, different week ly periodicals, for the space of half a century. He also stood a faithful sentinel at that unslum- bering post, the head of a daily newspaper of large circulation, in the city of New York. His fine literary taste did not confine itself to edito rial articles, but in consecutive works, as well as on the floor of Congress, he was appreciated by his countrymen. Age did not dim his intel lect, or his remarkable colloquial powers. He continued to write with the same rapidity and acuteness that had marked his early prime ; the messenger often taking the pages wet with ink to the waiting press. Well do I remember the radiance of his expressive black eye, when those coruscations of wit kindled, which eighty -two winters had not quelled, or when the smile of earnest friendship, or hallowed affection, lighted up a face beautiful to the last. The gentler sex have occasionally ventured 292 PAST MERIDIAN. into the arduous and responsible editorial post ; and among these, Mrs. Ann Royal continued to conduct a paper in the city of Washington, with an unclouded spirit, until the age of eighty-five. In the same city, the venerable editors of the " National Intelligencer " long continued unimpaired their professional toils. Col. Sea- ton, who mingled with indefatigable industry a singular urbanity, received among other marks of popular favor repeated elections to the mayoralty ; while his associate, Mr. Gales, with his still bright eye and expansive benevolence, was characterized by a discriminating pen as " a politician without seeking office, and a statesman, without holding it." Col. Green, one of the earliest editors who gave Connecticut her weekly " folio of four pages," remained clear-minded, and full of hap piness, till his ninety-fourth year. The late Col. Ward, who was born in the same year, and has been recently removed, retained, after a life of active business, a memory wonderfully tenacious of dates, facts, and historical incidents, and was among the most interesting representa tives of the past that Hartford can boast. The same pleasant city numbered with its most hon- WESTERING SUNBEAMS. 293 ored dwellers Chief Justice Williams, who veiled profound learning with true Christian humility, and until eighty-four, when a brief illness raised the curtains of his tent, and a mourning community heard that he was gone, mingled his bright smile, and earnest voice, with every work of benevolence and piety. To stand on earth's high places, in the garb Of heavenly meekness, yet to comprehend And track the tortuous policies of guile With righteous blame, and heart immaculate ; To pass just sentence on the wiles of fraud And deeds of wickedness, yet freshly keep The fountain of good-will to all mankind, To mark for more than fourscore years a line Of light without a mist, are victories Not oft achiev'd by frail humanity, Yet were they his. Among the most genial spirits of the age, was the venerable Dr. John W. Francis of New York. Time levied no tax on his enthusiasm in intellectual pursuits, in friendship, or in charity. The Mentor of his profession, he warmly extended to the young medical prac titioner the helping hand, or the word of encour agement. The oldest member of the Historical Society of the Empire city, his authority was decisive as an antiquarian, so vast and precise 294 PAST MEEIDIAN. were his retentive and recollective powers. A writer of versatility and force, a favorite in liter ary circles, his conversation and manners were replete with such a glow of feeling, as set the frosts of age at defiance. In every grade and occupation are some times found instances of protracted usefulness, mingling with that hopeful, cheerful tempera ment, which is supposed to appertain to the earlier periods of life. This is illustrated in the following extracts from one of those letters with which the late Grant Thorburn, the octogena rian florist, occasionally interested the public, through the medium of our various periodicals. " NEW YORK, February, 18, 1854. " This clay I enter on my eighty-second year ; my health as good, my appetite as good, I relish my food as well, and I sleep as well, as when in my thirtieth year ; and for this, I thank the Giver of all Good. The sceptic may sneer and the fool may laugh, it is but the crackling of thorns under a pot. You may call this egotism, or any ism that you please, but I think that ingratitude is worse than the sin of witchcraft. * What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits ? ' " For the last sixty years, I have been only one day confined to my dwelling by sickness. Seventeen of these summers were spent in the city, when yellow fever, like a Turkish plague, made our streets desolate, and strong men dropped like grass beneath the scythe of the mower. The doctors of law, physic, and divinity, the board of health, the mayor, and the ancient men of the city, all affirmed that the fever was contagious. If WESTEKING SUNBEAMS. 295 so, I have a higher power than Chance to thank for the preser vation of myself and family ; for neither my wife, myself, nor any of my thirteen children, were ever affected by this fatal disease. The exemption was the more remarkable, as I spent much of my time in the chambers of death, and at the sick bed of the dying. " In the dreadful fever of 1798, from the 15th to the 22d of September, I had seven patients. They lay in three different wards, near half a mile apart. I travelled day and night, from one house to another, they having none to give them a cup of cold water, myself excepted. Four of them died ; three recov ered. Thousands died alone. " I will narrate in eighty minutes my journey of twice forty years through the wilderness of this world. Many, and full of good, have been the days of my pilgrimage. When I left Scot land in April, 1794, I was in my twenty-second year. The amount of my education was to read the Bible and write my own name. Previous to this, I had never been twenty miles from the house wherein I was born, and, with regard to men and their manners, I was as ignorant as a babe. " The first night I slept on shore in America, was on the 17th of June, in an open garret, with my head within eighteen inches of the shingle roof, my ship's mattress spread on the floor. The night was hot. A thunder storm arose at midnight the rain descended the floods beat on the frail roof, and great was the terror of my heart. The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled ; I had never seen or heard the like in Scotland, and I wished myself at hame again. Sleep fled from mine eyes, and slumber from my eyelids. I rose at daybreak head-ache, heart ache and my spirits sunk down to my heels. Being a stranger, I was loth to disturb the family by going forth so early ; to amuse two listless hours, I opened my case of books to spread them on the floor ; as they had been fourteen weeks in the hold of the vessel, I feared they were mildewed. On the top, lay a small pocket Bible ; it was placed there by the hands of my pious father. I opened the book. " My son," met my eye. For 296 PAST MERIDIAN. a moment, I thought my father spoke. I read to the end of the chapter it was the third of Proverbs. It is near sixty years since that morning, but, at every cross-road, when not knowing whither to turn, to the right hand or the left, on refer ring to this chapter, I found written, " This is the way, walk ye in it." " Whether I shall see another birthday, or whether I shall see another Sabbath, it matters not. I know He will keep what I have committed to his charge." It would be well if cheering social inter course were more cultivated among those who share in the sympathies of many years. A lady of ninety-three, in one of the villages of Massa chusetts, lately entertained at her tea-table, a party of seven friends of both sexes, whose ages ranged from seventy to eighty-six. True satisfaction and a decorous hilarity marked the festival. Much had they to say, for their united experience covered an area of six hundred and fifty years. Rural employments had probably contributed to preserve their health ; for all were dwellers upon their own farms, within the vicinity of a square mile, so that neighborly in timacy gave a zest to their intercourse, and no snows of age had been allowed to obstruct the avenues of friendship. It is desirable that the lambent light of hap- WESTEKING SUNBEAMS. 297 piness should beam from the countenance and life of those who have long set a good example, thus making virtue attractive, and dispelling the dread which, the young feel of becoming old. Is not the parting sun beautiful in a wintry landscape ? The whitened hillocks wear a faint rose -crown, and the trees glitter in their frost work drapery, as if for a birthnight. Does any one ask how this " house of our pilgrimage " may be illumined, when shadows steal around, and perchance, those that " look out of the windows are darkened ? " Are there not some dwellings which are lighted from above ? We would fain have a sky-light that shall not fail us ; one that we can look up to, and be glad. We are not satisfied with a cold lustre in Memory's halls, or with a solitary star- beam. Can we not have a fire on the hearth, when winter gathers around us ? Yes, we will keep love in our hearts, while they beat, that there may be warmth, as well as radiance. Thus, may our day of life draw toward its close. At " evening time may it be light." In thy light, O Father of our spirits, may we see light; that walking in love here below, we 13* 298 PAST MERIDIAN. may come at last, in thy good time, to that glorious world, where there is no more night, and where the sunbeam of love is eter nal. CHAPTER XYI. Ye who hold Proud tenantry in earth, and call your lands By your own names, and lock your coffer'd gold From him who for a bleeding Saviour's sake Doth ask a part, whose shall those treasures be, When, like the grass-blade smit by autumn-frost, Ye fall away ? IT is a mournful thought that men should become more attached to earthly possessions when about to leave them, or grasp them with so great intensity, that the final separation must be forcible and afflictive. But is this statement true ? Do such cases often occur ? If so, are there no remedies ? As we are creatures of habit, adhesiveness undoubtedly gathers strength from time. Since what we have been habituated to do, or to see, becomes unconsciously interwoven with our ex- 300 PAST MERIDIAN. istence, so what we have been accustomed to have and to hold, may grow closer to our hearts as life recedes, causing those who in youth were merely prudent, to be at last the victims of av arice. Still, the extreme of this passion is not often witnessed, inasmuch as a miser is a mark ed creature, held up for observation and com ment, both in passing life and in history. All the subtle talents of Mazarin were not able to gild his rapacity, or hide it from the contempt of coming ages. The solemn warning of his confessor, that to purchase peace of con science, he must make restitution of unjust gains, failed to overcome his insatiable habit of hoarding. The frank assurance of his physician, that, though but just upon the verge of sixty, the revolution of two brief moons was the ut most limit of his days, embittered with terror both his waking and sleeping moments. Then, his two hundred millions of livres passed before him, in review, each one as dear as ever. To enrich his relatives, the haughty family of Man- cini, was probably an excuse made by the wily cardinal for his unequalled avarice, but the root was in the love of it. Some rare gems, and pe culiarly precious treasures, were placed in bags beneath his pillow. After struggles of deadly ABOUT MO KEY. 301 anguish, which increasing disease induced, he stretched his weak, emaciated hands to feel if they were still there. The fearful Spoiler, drawing every hour more near, he might have apostrophized in the words ascribed to one of England's great and unhappy statesmen. " If thou be'est death, I'll give a nation's treasure, Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain. 1 ' Other extreme cases might be cited, but this is not our object. It is rather to recommend such antidotes as are the most obvious, if we admit that avarice is a disease indigenous to life in its decline. The first prescription would be, pay all debts. There is religion in it. If we are using, or have the name of possessing anything for which the owner has not been fully remune rated, let us lose no time in rendering adequate compensation. It is better always to do with out what we cannot justly afford to purchase, than avail ourselves of what literally belongs to another: and the weight of undischarged obligation grows heavier as we draw nearer our own final account. It is at all times a clog to the free spirit, a yoke that bows down inde- 302 PAST MEEIDIAN. pendence of thought and purpose. " Poverty without debt is independence," says an Arabian proverb. The blessed founder of our faith, to his command to " render to all their dues," added the force of his own example, in the pay ment of tribute to the Roman ruler. An old author has quaintly remarked, " Even when Christ borrowed Peter's boat to preach a ser mon out of it, he paid him for the same with a great draught of fishes." The wise monarch of Israel attaches the epithet of wickedness to that too common forgetfulness of equity, " borrowing and paying not again." The spirit of acquisi tiveness is a temptation to vice. It confuses the simple principles of right and wrong. The fearful frauds that mark modern days, and our own country, bid us to strengthen every foun dation of equity, and beware of the spirit of " These feverish times, That putting the how-miLch before the 7ww t Cry like the daughters of the horse-leech, give." How forcible were the words of the elo quent Patrick Henry, on his death-bed, to his children, " If I could will to give you the Chris tian religion, how gladly would I do so ; for with this and without any earthly possession, ABOUT MONEY. 303 you would be infinitely rich : without it, thoagh with all else that the heart can wish, you would be miserably poor." The apostolic injunction, " Owe no man any thing, except to love one another," gathers strength and significance with every added year. The luxury of giving cannot be fairly enjoyed, while debts remain unliquidated. " Be just before you are generous," is a precept as admirable for its innate truth, as for its garb of simplicity. Punctual and cheerful payment of wages to the laborer is a form of benevolence. To withhold hard-earned dues, or to render them churlishly, is anti-Christian. A philan thropist, who in his business employed many operatives, was in the habit of paying them all at stated periods, and of adding, if possible, some kind word of counsel, saying it was a " good time to sow a good seed, when there was a sunbeam to quicken it." Repress the spirit of accumulation. This has been said to increase with years. Yet the faculties which it calls into exercise are adverse to the tranquillity which is usually coveted in life's decline. Its progress must, therefore, be traced to the force of a habit, against which reason remonstrates. 304 PAST MERIDIAN. The fever of speculation, the eagerness of gain, the disappointment of loss, all the intense gradations from exultation to despair, are inap posite and hurtful to a being who cannot long partake that for which he barters so much ; and whose wisdom is rather to seek wealth in the country where he is about to dwell. The value of every species of property depends upon the period in which it may be rendered available, or upon its probability of continu ance. A bond about to expire, a house ready to fall, an estate which the mortgagee might at any moment claim, would not be coveted as in vestments by the prudent. To the aged all earth's possessions, being deficient in the article of time, which is the breath of their nostrils, are far less worthy of fervent search, than when, in early prime, they were encouraged by hope to associate them with a long term of years. Such meditations, probably, induced a man of labo rious and successful acquisition to say, " I will add no more to my capital hereafter ; and the surplus of all my income shall be the Lord's." Cultivate the habit of giving. This great pleasure may have been reserved for later years as a compensation for those enjoyments which time has taken away. The aged, by their posi- ABOUT MONEY. 305 tion, are peculiarly solicited to make trial whether it is not better to give than to receive. Chrysostom has well said that " a man does not become rich by laying up abundance, but by laying out abundance : that is, laying it out for God." There is force in that quaint epitaph, " What I saved I lost, What I spent I had, What I gave I kept." " I think I am rich enough," said Pope, after his writings became productive, " to give away- one hundred pounds a year. I would not crawl upon the earth without doing a little good. 1 will enjoy the pleasure of giving what I have to give by doing it while I am alive, and seeing others enjoy it. I should be ashamed to leave enough for a monument if there was a friend in want above ground." Many examples might be cited, were time and space mine, where similar resolutions have been adopted as the motto and guide of life, until the spirit blessing all whom it met, was wafted by gratitude below to songs of melody above. Such an one has been removed from among us. 306 PAST MERIDIAN. Anson Gr. Phelps, Esq., of New York, who by his own unaided industry, became the pos sessor of a large fortune, through untiring deeds of philanthropy kept his heart tender and open to the wants and woes of mankind. Time, money, and sympathy were with him ever ready for the claims of beneficence, whether large or small. To the Being who had pros pered his labors, he thus considered himself accountable, and this conscientious discharge of duty was blessed as one of his highest joys. Until more than threescore and ten years had passed over him, he attended with undimin- ished judgment to the concerns of a great com mercial establishment, and the interests of many associated and individual forms of benevo lence. Amid the sufferings and languor of de cline, his mind, peacefully resting upon that God whom from youth he had served, still occupied itself in plans of liberality. Within two or three days of his death, while arranging for a donation of several thousand dollars to some religious design, a beloved one expressed fear that it might too much tax his feeble strength, and proposed that it should be left to the care of others, but he replied, " My business has long been to save that I might give, and I ABOUT MONEY. 307 wish to continue it while life lasts." More than half a million is dedicated in his will to the charities which he had long patronized, and besides other bequests to his twenty-two grand children, was the sum of $5,000 for each, the interest of which was to be annually devoted to deeds of religious bounty. Thus did he seek, even when he should be numbered with the dead, to lead his descendants in those paths of Christian charity which he had so loved. Among the objects of philanthropy in his own city, the asylum for the blind has shared large ly in his bounties and sympathies. Its inmates, at his frequent visits, gathered around him to take his hand as that of a father. Their thrill ing and tuneful voices poured forth the tearful melody of a hymn at his thronged funeral ob sequies. " How those blind children will miss him ! " said a clergyman in his address, at the church where for many years he had worshipped. " They never saw his benignant face, but they well knew the kind voice of their benefactor. How do all the blessed affections of humanity, how do all the sacred hopes of religion, delight to hover over a good man's grave." Another counsel which we venture to give, 308 PAST MERIDIAN. is to superintend personally, as far as possible, such plans of benevolence as are approved and adopted. This is true economy. We best un derstand our own designs. It may not always be feasible perfectly to incorporate them with the mind of another. " He who uses the minis try of many agents," says a profound moralist, " may be by some of them misunderstood and by others deceived." Why should we not enjoy the pleasure of dispensing our own gifts \ " Come, please give us something," said a shrewd nurse to an inva lid and rather parsimonious old lady ; " give us all something now, and see us look pleasant while you are alive." There was philosophy here, as well as policy. Illustrations of this position are so nume rous, that it is embarrassing and almost invidi ous to select. The late Hon. Samuel Appleton, of Boston, who lived to almost the verge of ninety, was distinguished by the practical efficiency of char ity. The exercise of a clear judgment kept pace with his persevering liberality. In carry ing out such designs as he decided to adopt, the amount of his benevolence often exceeded $25,000 annually. So long did he pursue this ABOUT MONEY. 309 blessed husbandry, that lie was enabled to see ripening fruits from the germs he had planted in the sterile soil of poverty and ignorance. It is pleasant to observe how his discrimina ting and unimpaired mind simply and senten- tiously expressed itself, in presenting a dona tion of ten thousand dollars to a venerated scholastic institution. " It affords me much pleasure to have it in my power to do something for the only college in my native State, which has done so much to establish a sound literary character in the country. " Dartmouth has done her full proportion in educating for the pulpit, the bar, the healing art, and the senate, good and great men, who have done honor to their names, to the college, and the country. " May New Hampshire long continue to send forth from her literary emporium, men who will dispense among their fellows, religion, law, and the other arts and sciences, in simplicity, purity, and truth." Though few have the amount of wealth to dispense which fell to the lot of this unwearied philanthropist, yet the zeal which determined as far as possible to be its own executor, is imitable. Those who trust to others, even dur ing life, are not sure of having their plans exe cuted. Much less can this be expected when they are dead. Agents may fail or betray. They may be absorbed with their own busi- 310 PAST MEEIDIAN. ness, and ours be delayed or forgotten. A large portion of testamentary charities perhaps never reach the most available points of the object which their donors contemplated. The habit of promptly making their multi form plans of benevolence available, was con spicuous in the brothers Amos and Abbot Lawrence, of Boston, those shining lights in the galaxy of goodness. One in heart, id devising and executing liberal things, they are doubtless reunited where " charity never faileth." We borrow the expressive language of one of the biographers of the elder brother, whose boun ties during the last ten years of his life were supposed to have amounted to half a million of dollars. " It is known," says the Rev. Dr. Hopkins, " that his habit of giving liberally extended back to the period of his earliest prosperity, and kept pace with its growth. He had a sense of religious obligation, as well as a benevolent heart, and with the same sagacity that governed his business transactions, perceived the tendency there is in accumulation to increase the love of money and guarded against it. " He did not dispense his bounty at random, nor yet by any rigid and inflexible system, that could not be moulded and shaped by the calls or aspects of each passing day. " He aided family connections near and remote, and old friends and acquaintances. If any of them needed a few hun dred dollars to help them over a difficult position, it was sure to come. But his sympathy was not limited at all to kindred ABOUT MONEY. 311 or acquaintance, or in any way narrowed by sect or party. He was a true man, in sympathy with suffering humanity, and was always glad, it gave him real pleasure, to find a worthy object of his bounty. He sought out such objects. He learned his tories of reverses, and of noble struggles with adversity, that were stranger than fiction. Those thus struggling he placed in positions to help themselves, furnishing them, if necessary, with sums from one hundred to a thousand dollars, or more, as freely as he would have given a cup of cold water. He visited almshouses, and hospitals, and insane asylums, and retreats for the deaf and dumb, and the blind, and became deeply interest ed in many of their inmates. He was watchful of everything needed there for comfort or for instruction, and his presence always carried sunshine with it. He distributed useful books. He aided genius, and encouraged promising talent. A true son of New England, he appreciated education, and gave his money and his influence to extend it, and to elevate its standard in every grade of our institutions, from the primary school to the college and the professional seminary." The forms of benevolence change. Those objects which twenty years since were promi nent, are now in a measure obsolete, or super seded by others. If we have selected one which seems fitting and feasible, let us see to it ourselves. Our heirs will probably have con cerns enough of their own, and not care to be burdened with ours also. Methinks I hear a murmured rejoinder, " There are various forms of charity I should like to patronize, but I must save for my chil dren, and I have poor relations.' 1 312 PAST MERIDIAN. These are the keytones which covetonsness has struck for ages, and with such force as often to bewilder itself. There is in them a sem blance of justice and of conscience, while the root is at best a concealed selfishness. The hoarding for descendants, which at first view seems paternal and amiable, may be hurtful to those whose benefit it contemplates. The ex pectation of wealth may paralyze their indus try. Its possession may check their sympathies, perhaps endanger their souls. If we adopt the charity that begins at home, let us see that it does not become bedridden and die at home. For wherever there is one of God's family who is in sorrow, or ignorance, or needs bread or a garment, or is sick, or in prison to vice or de spair, let the same be to us as our u brother and sister and mother." The possession of property involves an obli gation of stewardship, both to the Giver and to our fellow-creatures ; an obligation w^hich reced ing life renders more imperative and sacred. We would not stand before our Judge with rust upon our souls, derived from the gold that perishes. Of its unrighteous gathering, its un just detention, or unkind denial to any in the hour of need, we would be guiltless in the dread day of account. " . r . ABOUT MONEY. 313 I have somewhere seen four homely rules which comprise true wisdom, and whose observ ance would prevent much remorse : " 1. Do all the good you can ; 2. In all the ways you can ; 3. To all the people you can ; 4. Just as long as you can." There are some who in their desires to do good are discouraged if they must operate on a small scale, or be bounded by a narrow circle. They erroneously associate large benefactions, with the pure element of benevolence. Such per sons may be consoled by Mahomet's explanation of good deeds to our race. His definition em braced the wide circle of all possible kindness. " Every good act," he would say, " is charity. Your smiling in your brother's face is charity ; an exhortation of your fellow-man to virtuous deeds is equal to alms-giving ; your putting a wanderer in the right road is charity ; your as sisting the blind is charity ; your removing stones, and thorns, and other obstructions from the road, is charity ; your giving water to the thirsty is charity. A man's true wealth hereaf ter is the good he does in this world to his fellow-man. When he dies, people will say, 1 What property has he left behind him ? ' 14 314 PAST MERIDIAN. But the angels will ask, ' What good deeds has he sent before him ? ' And now, if any of us who have together mused on this subject, realize that the time is short, let us the more strenuously fulfil deferred resolutions and undischarged duties. Let us pay what we owe, and break the slavery of money getting, and study the science of charity in the love of it, and learn the joy of being our own almoners. For to all, whether young or old, who are still seeking the good things of this transitory state the warning of an ancient writer is appropriate : " Build your nest upon no tree here, for God hath sold the whole forest unto Death ; and every tree whereupon we would rest is ready to be cut down. Therefore, let us flee, and mount up, and make our abode among the cliffs, and dwell in the sides of the Great Ever lasting Kock." CHAPTEE XYII. Cjj* ^nullities. " He prayeth best, who lovetli best." COLERIDGE. IT is sometimes the case, that good and kind-hearted people imbibe on certain points a rigidity of opinion, or an undue expectation of conformity, which is both disagreeable and in expedient. It is a kind of despotism, against which enlightened intellect revolts. I am not ignorant that it has been numbered among the tendencies of age, though I have never observed it to be exclusively confined to that period. On the contrary, I have seen and admired in many old persons, an increase of candor, a reluctance to condemn, and a mitigation of all austerity, like the mellowing of rich fruit, ripe for the harvest. Those amiable friends seemed to have taken the advice of the clear-minded and benev- 316 PAST MERIDIAN. olent Franklin, not to tarry in the basement rooms of the Christian edifice, but to make haste and get into the upper chamber, which is warm with the sunlight of charity. Still, it must be admitted that some ancient people indulge in the dialect of complaint. To them, the world and its inhabitants seem in a state of deterioration. Nothing is as good, or as pleasant, or as praiseworthy, as when they were young. So, onward they hie, with a frown of the spirit, which is worse than the wrinkles on the face. There is no respect for age, say they, no family-government. To command respect, cer tain forms of example, or modes of conduct and manners, are deemed essential. It is possi ble that in some of these they may themselves be deficient. That changes the ground of the question. With regard to the pusillanimous adminis tration in households, to which they so mourn fully advert, a forcible writer has recently said : " There is complainirg of the want of family government. There is just as much family government now, as there ever was. The only difference is, that formerly it was in the hands of parents, now it is in the hands of children. Formerly it might have been stern, now it is tyrannical." THE AMENITIES. 317 And now, my dear and venerable coevals, though some changes, which are unavoidable, may not be in conformity to our taste, yet those who tarry long at a feast should not be surprised if the last courses differ from the first. Would it not be a reflection on the judgment of the host if it did not ? We admit that the Master and Giver of this life-feast understands His own plan. Would not a hopeful pa tience, and a heartfelt praise, be profitable com panions ? Querulous and imperative modes of expres sion, should be strenuously avoided. While we concede liberty of judgment to others, we should use courtesy in the expression of our own. it is both fitting and wise that dissent ing opinion should be wrapped in gentle speech. Were this always kept in view, much of the bitterness of strife would evaporate, and contro versies lulled into harmony, make only a strong er music to the ear of humanity. If dogmatism has been considered a concom itant of age, in former times, it would surely be well to dismiss it in our own. The world it self has so changed its aspects, capacities, and modes of action, during the last half century, that many of the conclusions which then seemed 318 PAST MEEIDIAK. rational and well-established, must now be either reconsidered, or counted obsolete. Then, she was in a manner home-bred, and when she went abroad, it was comparatively with the pace of a tortoise. She sate in the evening, by the light of a tallow candle, and read standard old books, and remembered what was in them, and who wrote them. Now, she is in haste, and can admit but few lasting impressions. She rides on the steam, and talks by lightning. She reveals new agen cies that bewilder her children, and astonish herself. Like the mystic form of the Apoca lypse, she " is clothed with the sun, and hath the moon under her feet." Her " stones are the place of sapphires, and she hath dust of gold." So many new elements, or unknown combi nations, have been, or are being discovered, in this our planet, that a common, old-fashioned person could scarcely be more at a loss, on the ring of Saturn, or among the belts of Jupiter. It is no wonder that those who founded conclu sions on ancient premises should be at fault, where there is no precedent. The great prin ciples of right and wrong must, indeed, ever remain the same ; but the rapid movement, and THE AMENITIES. 319 transmutation of passing objects, confuse the old modes of reasoning. We, therefore, of the ancient regime, should forbear strongly to press preconceived opinions, and should form new ones with peculiar modes ty. For we are not certain of what we once supposed was well understood, and must con sole ourselves with the assertion of Bacon, that " he is the wisest man, who is the most suscep tible of alteration." Still, we will not embark on a sea of doubt, but regard with leniency our fellow-voyagers, as they steer their various courses, over time's troubled billows, as we hope, toward the same great haven of rest. Such amenities mingling with our religious belief would repel bigotry. That we^ should be attached to the form of faith that has long sus tained and solaced us, is natural and commend able. But if there has been ever a period in which we were inclined to think that " we alone were the people, and wisdom must die with us," it is time to dismiss the assumption. For among the many good lessons that age has taught us, should be toleration and humility. Through much discipline and many sorrows, it instructs us that " true religion is not a wall to shut out our fellow beings, nor a balance in which to 320 PAST MERIDIAN. weigh grains of doctrine, nor a rack on which to stretch varying opinions, nor a javelin to launch at different complexions of faith, but i peace, and love, and good-will to men.' " It should have enabled us to make progress in the last and highest grace, benignant and saintly charity. Faith has been our teacher, ever since we first lisped, with childish utterance, u in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Hope, as far as she draws nutriment from earth, can have little more for the aged, either in vision or fruition. But Charity, our last, most patient teacher, will ever find some beautiful precept, some holy exercise, till " this mortal shall put on immortality." Yet though age should soften all hostilities of opinion, as the setting sun softens the land scape, there are occasionally some minds of an tagonistic character, whose controversial tastes gather strength. With them, the beatitude which the gospel promises to peace-makers, is overshadowed by the ambition of controlling the opinions of others. Such ideas harmonize rather with the policy of an Israelitish usurper, than of the meek and lowly Redeemer. " Is it THE AMENITIES. 321 peace, Jehu? What hast them to do with peace ? Turn tliee behind me? But how often is the disposition and power of guiding others associated with the most eminent liberality and love. Hear the noble suffrage of John Wesley, when advanced years had fully matured his piety. " My soul loathes the frothy food of con tending opinions. Give me solid, substantial religion. Give me a humble lover of God, and of man, full of mercy and good fruits, laying himself out in works of faith, in the pa tience of hope, and the labor of love. My soul shall be with such Christians, wheresoever they are, and whatsoever doctrines they may hold." Bishop Stillingfleet asks : " Cannot good men differ about some things, and yet be good still ? Yes. Cannot such love one another not withstanding such difference ? No doubt they ought. Whence comes it, then, that a small difference in opinion is so apt to make a breach in affection ? In plain truth it is every one would- be thought to be infallible ; and they have so good an opinion of themselves as to make their notions and practices a rule for the world. Hence arise disputes and ill-language not be coming men or Christians. And if others have H* 32*2 PAST MERIDIAN the same opinion of themselves, there must be everlasting clashings, and thence falling into parties and factions ; which cannot be prevent ed till they come to more reasonable opinions of themselves, and more charitable and kind feelings towards others." Sir George Mackenzie says, " Bigotry is a laying of too much stress upon a circumstantial point of religion, and making other essential duty subordinate thereto. It obtrudes upon us things of no moment, as matters of the greatest importance. As it would be a great defect in a man's sense to take a star for the sun, so it is a much greater error in a Christian to prefer, or even to equal, a mere circumstance to the vital points of religion." " Men who think, will differ writes the learned Dr. Priestly ; " but true Christians will ever be candid." " I do not wish," said Rowland Hill, with his characteristic pleasantry, " the walls of separation between different orders of Chris tians destroyed, but only a little lowered, that we may shake hands over them." "The nearer we approximate to universal love," said the large-minded, large-hearted Rob ert Hall, " the higher we ascend in the scale of Christian excellence." THE AMENITIES. 323 The venerable President Nott thus counsels a class of his students about to enter the minis- ryv "Let religious controversy alone. Let heresy alone. Preach the pure Gospel. That will be your best defence against all error." We blame the folly of the Egyptian queen, yet overlook their greater madness, who dis solve in the sharp acid of contention the price less pearl of charity, the soul's chief wealth, and casting away the substance for the symbol, ven ture to stand in their reckless poverty before a Judge who requireth love, and the deeds of love, as a test of loyalty, and a shield from wrath. In His dread presence, we must all ap pear, and appeal only as sinners, having " left undone the things that we ought to have done, and done the things that we ought not to have done." From this parity of condition should spring brotherhood of feeling. Hand in hand let us kneel before the throne of the Par doner. A simple, significant incident was once re lated in the discourse of a Scottish divine. Two cottagers, dwelling under the same roof, became alienated. It so happened that both were employed at the same time in thatching their tenement. Each heard the sound of the 324 PAST MERIDIAN. other's hammer, and saw the progress of his work, yet took no friendly notice. But at length, as they approached nearer, they looked in each other's face and chanced to smile. That smile was a messenger from heav en. With it, came the thought of how much better it would be for those who dwell under one roof, to be at peace in their hearts. Then they shook hands. They said, " Let us be friends" and a new, great happiness be came theirs. Are we not, all of us, dwellers under God's roof, and as Christians engaged in the same work ? Is not the silent lapse of years bring ing us nearer and nearer toward each other ? Let us then press on in love, until by His grace, our thatching well done, we meet on the top at last, and learn the joy of angels. JDXfi. Cl h: CHAPTEE XYIII. C|f* fleasttws of jfittinttr. " And when the tinting of the Autumn leaves Had faded from its glory, we have sat By the good fires of winter, and rejoiced Over the fulness of the gathered sheaf." WILLIS. WHAT a singular subject ! The pleasures of winter. And what may they be ? Some, with whom the imagery of frost and snow predominates, will be ready to say that it has non-8. Surely it has been the most ill-treated season, decried by almost every one that could wield a pen or weave a couplet. The poets have been in league against it from time immemorial. Still it has some very respectable, shall I say desirable characteris tics? It has not the fickleness of spring, whose blossoms so soon fall, nor the enervating 326 PAST MERIDIAN. influence of summer, when the strong men bow themselves, nor the imperious exactions of autumn, when the ingathering is a weariness, and may be a disappointment. Do not speak with too much scora of a wintry landscape. The wreaths of smoke rising high into the clear blue skies, the pure, white covering under which nature reposes, the sparkling of the sinuous streams, where the graceful skaters glide, the groups of children, gathering rosier cheeks and merrier spirits from the heightened oxygen of the atmos phere, give to a winter morning in our sunny latitude, cheering excitement. Did you ever chance to look upon the glorious Niagara in the garniture of winter ? And did not its solemn, solitary majesty impress you more deeply than when the green, waving woods, and the busy, gazing throngs, divided the absorbing sentiment ? Is not the wintry eve sweet, with its warm fires and bright lights, w^hen families gather in a closer circle, and better love each other ? Heart springs to heart, with fewer obstacles than in the more discursive seasons, when the foot is tempted to roam and the eye to wander. The baby crows louder after its THE PLEASURES OF WINTER. 327 father, because it can sit longer on his knee. The youth has a lengthened tale for his lady love, and the storm passes by unheard. Pleasant talk, and sweet song, and loud reading, vary the scene of household delights. Added cheerfulness and love are among the treasures of the wintry evening. Shall we not avail ourselves of these hints, when the winter of life comes ? Shall we not light up the cheerful lamp, and put more fuel on the flame in our cold hearts ? They need not go out, though some are gone who were wont to feed them with fresh oil. We will keep love to our race alive till the last. Let its embers throw their warmth even into the dark valley. Yes, we will carry those embers with us, and relight them where they can never wane or expire. The- young are said to love winter. Let us strive to make them love us, when we become the personification of winter. We will redouble our offices of kindness, and our powers of entertainment, and see if we cannot melt the ice that has collected between us. " Young men," says Lord Bacon, " are to be happy by hope, and the old by memory." 328 PAST MERIDIAN. Yes, with us are the pictures of the past, the winter gallery, whose landscapes fade not and whose fountains still freshly murmur. Mem ory ! she who hath sifted and winnowed the harvest of life, that she may know the true wheat. Memory, who hath stood by us when Hope and Love have so often rung the death-knell, and forsaken us, may we be happy through her? The Lord be thanked if it is so. If, in looking back on all the way wherein He hath led us, she presents a predominance of correct motive, of earnest obedience, of forgiven sin, let us strike that keytone of praise which shall reecho through eternity. Many treasured things have indeed eluded our grasp, and faded from our sight. Yet countless blessings remain. " Was Job miserable," says Chry- sostom, " when he had lost all that God had given him ? No, for had he not still that God, who gave him all ? " Among the prominent joys of life's winter are those of faith ; a nearness, and shadowing forth of things unseen. It was at a festal gathering of the old and young, that the question was once proposed, which season of human life was the happiest. It was THE PLEASURES OF WINTER. 329 freely discussed, with, varying opinions. Then the guests decided that their host, a man of fourscore, should be the umpire. Pointing to a neighboring gro.ve, he replied, " When vernal airs call forth the first buds, and yonder trees are covered with blossoms, I think how beautiful is spring. When summer clothes them with rich foliage, and birds sing among the branches, I say how beautiful is summer. When they are loaded with fruit, or bright with the hues of early frost, I feel how beautiful is autumn. But in the sere winter, when there are neither verdure nor fruit, I look through the leafless boughs as I could never do before, and see the stars shine? Stars of our God ! beam more brightly into our souls, through this wintry atmosphere. For our home is near. And notwithstanding the Great Philosopher hath said that the old can be happy only through memory, we will be happy through hope also ; yea, through that hope which hath no mixture of earth, the " hope that maketh not ashamed, and which is an anchor to the soul." CHAPTEK XIX. " Oh soldier of the Cross, away with dreams ! Bright on thy brow eternal glory streams, In faith, in love, in wisdom's steadfast mind, Arise and leave this moonlight camp behind." BISHOP BURGESS. IF it is wrong to disparage the season of age, which so few reach, over the hidden pit falls of time, it is unwise to regard only with reluctance and terror the transition to another life. To depart from this world, is as neces sary to the completion of our pilgrimage as to have entered it ; a point of existence not to be evaded, a consummation of what was here began. Do we not bear within ourselves the essential argument and , proof of future exis tence ? Even a heathen shall beautifully answer this question, the clear-minded Xeno- A NEW EXISTENCE. 331 phon. " When I consider the boundless activity of our minds, the remembrance we have of things past, our foresight of what is to come, when I reflect on the noble dis coveries and improvements that those minds have achieved, I am persuaded, and out of all doubt, that a nature which hath in it self such excellent things cannot possibly be mortal." Is not this brief life so fitted and adjusted to another, as to form but one existence ? Like apartments in a well-arranged mansion, they harmonize and are in symmetry. May we not pass from one to the other, with confidence in the Builder and Master of the Mansion ? If the passage is dark, is there not a lamp at each extremity placed there by His hand who " hath conquered Death, and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel ? " A pious man drawing near his last hour, said to me, " That other world is as clear, and as near, as the entrance into the next room." Raising his emaciated hand, with a great brightness in his eye, he added, " I had rather enter that next room than to remain longer here, for in that pleasant room are more of my friends than in this." 332 PAST MERIDIAN. " Why are we spared so Icmg ? " is some times the half-murmuring question of the aged, for whom the novelties of life are extinguished; The remark is an implication of unerring wisdom. As long as breath is lent, there will be some duty to perform, some enjoy ment to partake, some right word to be spoken, some prayer to be sent upward, some point of Christian example to be made com plete. It would be well to bear in our hearts the motto of a poet, " How well is ours : how long, permit to Heaven." Were our fears and anxieties less devoted to the circumstance of leaving this life, than to the danger of failing in those duties on which the welfare of a future one depends, it were better for us now and ever after. The messenger who is appointed to sum mon us to a new existence, is often arrayed w r ith imaginary terrors, and represented as the foe of our race. A quaint writer has recommended that we should " keep on good terms with Death." It would be indeed wise to make him our friend, to speak no ill of him, to be ready for him, and to meet him without fear. A NEW EXISTENCE. 333 " I am dying," said Washington, when a sharp sickness of twenty-four hours cut off his span of sixty-seven years, " but I am not afraid to die." Sometimes a new and strange courage comes to the Christian with death, though he might " all his lifetime have been subject to bondage." The diffident, who shrank ever from his fellow-man, has been heard to open his mouth boldly, and speak beautiful things of the world to come. To the weak-spirited and oppressed, he appears as a deliverer. Tyranny hath power no more. The fears and hopes that were born in dust, and dwelt there, fade away. The eye that grows dim to these lower skies, kindles with the " glorious liberty of the children of God.'' As the last breath ebbed away, a saintly womtm whispered, with a smile never to be forgotten. " Gotfs happiness ! God's happi ness ! " Friends ! brethren and sisters, already far advanced on the journey to another life, who " Nightly pitch the moving tent A day's march nearer home," are we afraid ? Why should we be ? Who provided for us, before we entered this state 334 PAST MERIDIAN. of probation ? Whose eye " saw our sub stance yet being imperfect ? " Who took care of us when we knew Him not ? Will He forget us now that we are His servants ? Sometimes the faith of the unlearned and simple reproves those whom the world ac- counteth wise. A poor Indian woman of great age dwelt on the far banks of the Mis sissippi. Her people, who always reverence the hoary head, spoke of her as an oracle, and a traveller from one of our Eastern States was thus led by curiosity to pay her a visit. The way was lonely, and the noon-day sun sultry, ere he reached the spot which had been indicated as her dwelling. Seated alone on a fallen tree, in the shade of her wigwam, with arms folded, and head dropping upon her bosom, he found the object of his search. Withered were her features, as the dead trunk upon which she rested, and with the taci turnity of her race, she returned his greeting, and replied to his questions only in mono syllables. At length he repeated the in terrogatory of Egypt's monarch to the pa triarch " How old art thou ? " A NEW EXISTENCE. 335 " I don't know. Some of my people say, one hundred and twenty years. Everybody that I knew when I was young have been long dead." " Are you afraid to die ? " This seemed a talismanic question. Her indifference of manner fled. Light came to her dim eye. Raising its downcast glance, she uttered with an animation that changed her whole aspect, the simplicity and clearness of her faith. Afraid to die ? No ! Why should I be afraid ? The Great Spirit has been good to me. He has taken care of me all my life. He has kept me from harm through many dangers and troubles. He opens the hearts of the people to be good to me, so that though I am too old and feeble to make provision for myself, they let me want for nothing. I know not when He will take me, but wherever it may be, I am willing to go, when he calls." The brightness faded from her eye as she ceased to speak, and relapsing into her habit ual calmness, the aged woman seemed as im movable as the trees that surrounded her. But as the traveller wended his way back through the pathless forest, her words follow ed him as a strong, strange melody. " Afraid to die ? No ! Wherever it may be, I am willing to go, when he calls." To loosen the bonds of affection, and depart 336 PAST MERIDIAN. from those who are roost dear, needs the exercise of an implicit trust. If there are any in that circle whose helplessness or absorbing love renders them apparently de pendent on us for protection or happiness, let us endeavor serenely to leave them on the Everlasting Arm. A statesman, during a disastrous period in the civil wars of England, being appointed to a foreign embassy, was listening to the vio lent tumult of a stormy sea, the night before his embarkation, and reflecting on the perilous condition of his native land, until his troubled mind forbade sleep. A confidential servant who accompanied him, perceiving his distress, said, " Sir, do you not think that God governed the world well, before you came into it ? " Undoubtedly." " Sir, do you not think He will govern it as well, when you are gone out of it ? " " Certainly." " Sir, pray excuse me, do you not think that you may trust Him to govern it quite as well, while you live ? " The reproof overcame his perturbation, who was about to undertake a tempestuous A NEW EXISTENCE. 33? voyage, burdened with heavy cares. Its spirit might instruct us. For those whom we con template leaving with such anxiety, we might be powerless to protect if we remained behind. The calamities of life would overtake them. Sickness would smite them, and sorrow find a passage into their hearts, and we could not shield them. We could not " deliver our darling from the lion." We would, therefore, confidently trust them and ourselves to an Almighty Hand, and, filled with holy faith, respond to the words of a powerful writer, " We have nothing to do with death but to defy it, to lift up our heads and look above it. He is but the mere loosener of the cords that moor us to the shores of time, the dis- solver of the cement that attaches to the things that perish in the using. What we have to do with it, is to despise it ; not to prepare to meet it, but to prepare to meet our God." Nature might herself instruct us, by tho calm aspect with which she meets her own changes. " How quiet shows the woodland scene I Each flower and tree, its duty done, Reposing in decay serene, Like holy men when age is won, 15 338 PAST MERIDIAN. Such calm old age, as conscience pure And self-commanding hearts ensure, Waiting the summons of the sky, Content to live and not afraid to die." Content, and not afraid. That is a blessed Christian motto. Yet we would add still more. Should we not be Iwppy to pass into whatever state of existence God shall desig nate ? Look at the bird. It hath gathered neither into storehouse or barn. Its food hath been from the garner of the broad, green earth, and its life a music-strain. The blasts of autumn come. Its empty nest trembles amid the _ leafless boughs. It must speed its way to another clime. Does it linger ? Does it doubt ? Nay, it spreads an unreluctant wing into the track less ether. So go thou forth, O Soul! It is God's universe. Thou canst not pass beyond His jurisdiction. His grace is sufficient for thee. Living, or dying, we would obey the elo quent injunction of the prophet, to " seek Him who maketh the seven stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow of death into the morning." Let us bring our will into conformity with His A NEW EXISTENCE. 339 will, and catch the spirit of the last prayer of Bishop Jewel : " Lord, now let thy servant depart in peace. Lord, suffer thy servant to come unto Thee. Lord, receive my spirit. " I have not so lived, as to be ashamed of having lived ; neither do I fear death, for God is merciful. Father, Thy will be done. Thy will, I say, and not mine. " Lo, this is my day. To-day shall I quick ly come unto Thee. This day shall I see my Lord Jesus Thou, O Lord, who hast .been my only hope." But in what attitude shall we stand, and how shall we occupy ourselves, when the time and strength for active service have past away ? The answer is, Wait. The waiting graces are beautiful. They imply readiness. We can not quietly await any great event for which we are unprepared. Let us have oil in our lamps, and cherish every gentle and holy affection. Wait ! It is an honorable service. An ancient warrior put on his armor and braced himself upright when the footstep of death stole upon him. " I have never turned ray back on any foe, while I lived," said he. " and I will look the last one in the face." 340 P A 8 T MERIDIAN. Wait bravely, therefore, in Christian armor, the opening of that gate which leads to a higher existence. Wait, with a smile, the ministry of the last messenger. Ask not when he cometh, or where, or in what man ner. Stipulate nothing. Poor pensioner on God's free mercy, question not, distrust not. His time is the best time. When it shall come may we have grace to let the frail tent of this body calmly fall, and putting our hand into the pierced hand of a Redeemer, with a song of praise go forth to " the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." THE END. SELECTIONS FROM THE PRESS. "PAST MERIDIAN." " North American Review, Boston" " Past Meridian," indeed, by the clock, but not by the still culminat ing sun. Mrs. Sigourney has never before written so wisely, so usefully, so beautifully, as in this volume. In saying so, we yield to none in our high appreciation of her previous literary merit ; but unless we greatly mistake, this is one of the comparatively few books of our day which will be read with glistening eyes and glowing heart when all who now read it will have gone to their graves. It is written by her in the char acter of one who has passed the meridian of life, and addresses itself to sensations and experiences which all whose faces are turned westward can understand and feel with her. It is much more than the " De Senectute" Christianized. It is devotion, philosophy, and poetry so intertwined that each is enriched and adorned by the association. It describes, indeed, the straitnesses and sadnesses of growing years; but sets off against them the more than preponderant immunities and felici ties. It treats of the duties of the aged, and of their rights and dues at the hands of the younger. It gives biographical sketches and anecdotes of good and happy old men and women. And, above all, it blends with the serene sunset of a well-spent life the young morning beams of the never-setting day. It will carry solace to many a fireside, and will rekindle hope and gladness in many a soul that hardly dares to look into its earthly future. Mrs. Sigourney furnishes a striking refutation of the not unusual idea that a poet's prose is none the better for the habit of metrical composition. Hers is not poetry dismembered, but chaste and modest prose, free from the intrusive licenses of verse, yet thoroughly interpene trated with the poetic imagination which gives grace and glow alike to all forms of literature. SELECTIONS FEOM THE PRESS. " Hartford CouranC" 1 This is the latest, though we hope not the last publication of the excellent authoress ; and we much mistake if it be not regarded as one of the best and most useful of the many volumes she has given to the public. It relates to a subject not often treated, but which has a most intimate connection with the duty and happiness of a full half of the race. It is warm and genial in its spirit, fresh and youthful in its style, and the reader cannot dwell en its pages long, without having his pulse quickened, a kindlier glow kindled in his bosom, and a smile of satisfac tion spread over his countenance. Its sentiments are admirably suited to interest and profit the class of persons for whom it was particularly intended; and such cannot read and " inwardly digest " the lessons it inculcates, without being made both wiser and happier as they descend into the vale of age. Mrs. S. intimates in the preface, that any who may be found reading the book may be suspected of being on the wrong side of fifty. We sincerely hope that none of those to whom she gives this hint, will be deterred by it from giving the volume a careful perusal ; for we can fissure them that if they live long enough, they will be among the past meridians some of them, too, sooner than they might be willing to confess and familiarity with the thoughts here set forth in a very attractive manner, will fit them to pass that dreaded line with a better grace, and tend to make them " behave better " when they find their faces well turned toward the setting sun. Peace to the author of this good book, and a blessing on all who read it. ''''Norwich Courier.' 1 ' 1 " Looking out on her times/' Mrs. Sigourney has not failed to descry the indecorous haste in thrusting aside persons hardly past their prime, which marks the present aspect of society and sets herself to recall, if possible, those attributes of worth and true dignity, which, in times past, compelled reverence and commanded influence for life in its decline. Taking her stand in the ranks, as one past mid-age there is pathos and beauty in the counsels and encouragements she ministers to her compeers, enforced as they are by the whole tenor of her life. The intellect and the heart which indited this well-timed volume are yet far from Past Meridian. SELECTIONS FROM THE PRESS. " New York Ledger.' 1 ' 1 Our gifted American poetess, whose name has so long been a house hold word at the firesides of the country, has favored the public with a volume of prose sketches, under the modest title of "Past Meridian" by which it is delicately hinted that the book is more especially intended for those who have passed the noon of existence, by one who is herself traversing the descending slope of the hill of life, and whose shadow, with theirs, is lengthening in the setting sun. But notwithstanding the graceful frankness with which the authoress assumes a station among those who are u past meridian," the work exhibits none of the character istics of age, except a statelier dignity, a riper experience, and a more composed strength, while it gives unmistakable evidence of containing the maturest flowerings and the mellowest fruitage of a mind which seems exhaustless in its richness and beauty. We imagine, therefore, that " Past Meridian " will not be limited in its circulation to the class to whom it is particularly addressed, but that its lessons of gentle wis dom, its sweet pathos, its chaste style, and its eloquent diction, will win their way to all hearts, irrespective of age, and position in life. " Philadelphia Episcopal Recorder" Mrs. Sigourney is above the need of praise from the press, and can have no fear of its censure. Her name has a prestige, which will give currency to her writings, so far as she is known. Whatever she is pleased to write, booksellers will bo happy to publish, and the public will desire to read, without knowing more of the book than its author ship. The power and fascination of her pen were never more apparent than in this last production, as is demonstrated to every reader before he gets beyond the title and preface. It is incredible that any com monplace mind should have conceived the one, or composed the other. We have never seen anything of the kind that pleased us more. The cast of the book is eminently evangelical, and is replete with counsels and encouragements, by which the reader can hardly fail to be made both happier and better. We should be greatly embarrassed in attempting to select from a work of such continuous beauty, a portion which would give the reader an adequate idea of the whole. SELECTIONS FROM THE PRESS. " Washington National Intelligencer? " Past Meridian," by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney. Appropriate title of a most charming book. Bryant sings of Nature's autumn, " Now come the melancholy days, the saddest of the year ; " but not in such colors does our gifted authoress paint the scenes from the human seasons in their procession to hale and hearty winter. No gloomy thoughts, no sad foot prints does she leave, but loving pictures of the still active happiness, the serene hopes which gild the path of those whose sun of life is " past meridian." There is in these sketches a joyous appreciation of the ful filled stages of experience, a freshness which belongs rather to the Old World, where people never grow old, than to this busy, worn-out, yet infant country of ours, where " Young America" seems to think white hairs an impertinence, and grand-parents a useless institution. Beautiful and touching are Mrs. Sigourney's descriptions of the domestic anniver saries of Germany, of the silver and golden weddings celebrated by those couples who for half a century have enjoyed together the brightness of youthful love, have lightened by tender mutual sympathy the cares of maturer age, and who now, with hearts still warm with the best affec tions, and surrounded by new generations glad to show them loving reverence, are hallowed with an almost sacred ligkt in their glorious " past meridian." There is iu these genial pages much encouragement for those who have not yet entered their "fifties," and our authoress imparts to them the difficult art, unknown to all save French women that of growing old gracefully ; and we thank Mrs. Sigourney for the noble example she has selected of the great and good of "aged divines," and "remarkable women," the evening of whose pilgrimage has been made lovely and serene by the reflected light of well-spent days. Indeed, we busy editors can scarce find time or words with which to thank our authoress for this her last " envoie" to her admiring country men. There is a tempered humor and touching pathos pervading it, unsurpassed, we think, by any other of her gifts to us, prose or poetical. Would that all in this our " fast" age and country could muse for an hour over the serious yet unspeakably cheerful thoughts which these pages suggest ! She speaks to the young, the A. M.'s of life's morning with a sweet brightness suited to their eager spirit, while to those who sit in the evening shadows of P. M. she points to the coming dawn welcome herald of that eternal day which knows no " past meridian." THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE RECALL LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, DAVIS Book Slip-35?n-7,'62(D296s4)458 263598 Sigourney, L.H.H Past meridian. Call Number: PS2832 P2 186U 263598 'H US