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imagined. But when high winds walk all separateness, and the past is one
abroad in the winter, and drive all undistinguishable whole.
men from the fields, and the house is Who can analyse and se parate the
populous, the family is gathered, and years of his childhood ? From birth
the night, having grown long by rob | till one is four or five, the unripe
ning the day at both ends, morning brain receives few impressions that
and evening, of many hours, the last. It is all blank. As in a printed
household cheer themselves with in book, at either end are bound up many
dustry and study. And at evening, blank leaves, without print or writing
alligather to their various tasks—the on them ; so is human life, at either
father to his books, the mother to her end, begun and ended with blank
children's treasures, the elder children years, preserving no record-leaving
to their school tasks, while the rosy no mark!
child, with curled pate, climbs the But then come the youthful days --
nurse's knee--and she drones to him full of romp, of hunger, of growth, of
the long story, a hundred times told, childish exhilaration ! How do they
and yet falling fresh as new upon the seem to you now? Are they separable?
story-greedy ears of childhood! He Can you thread them, and paint them
laughs, he weeps-he sighs, he shud- | by memory? Only one or two things
ders --- he glows and expands, or peculiarly significant remain. The
shrinks and cowers, till the tale is days are huddled together. The very
done; then, sitting for a while upon years are heaped in mass; and you
the stool by the mother's foot, the think back upon twenty years as if
child grows abstracted, gazing into they were but a hand-breath!
the pictured embers, seeing all man It is as with a landscape to a tra-
ner of fantastic figures and changing veller. Having journeyed all day, at
forms upon the opening and shutting evening reaching some bigh hill, he
face of coals and the plastic asbes, till sits down to trace his path. The
the eye sinks and the head nods, and
the drooping little sleeper is borne off the ants that run express up and
safe to bed.

down every stalk have brisk distinctIn the morning, he wakes and hun ness. The near bushes and the trees gers. The night is forgotten. A are so plain that the boughs and sevague remembrance rests with him of parate leaves stand out in their indithe sweet excitement of the night. vidual forms. But as the view recedes, But the day clears off these fancies ; gradually he loses all these ; and a they grow more and more dim ; they little further off, leaves lie upon lie in the mind as films of spider-web leaves, grass is matted upon grass, float with long thread glistening in and is no longer form, but only colour. the summer air.

Yet further, and trees begin to fade; And thus, saith the Psalmist, we tree stands up upon tree; and at spend our days! “As a tale that is length whole forests are to the eye told !" Years, with alltheir vast variety but faint clouds, with not one distinct of incident, are remembered vaguely- line, and hills are rubbed out, and all they are thin and dreamy! The pre the inequalities of the way, which the sent glows and even burns with inten complaining foot felt in travelling, sity. But it is quenched when a few the eye no longer discerns, and only days are past! Days come in with here and there a single peak or form, and sound, and motion, like the mountain remains clear and indivicoming in of crested waves. Like dual against the all-bounding sky! them, they break upon the shore Thus is it in life. Our nearer of the present; they cover it with hours report themselves; a little fura million evanescent gems; they ther, and days only, not hours, are dissolve and flow out in undertow, discerned ; then days lapse, and and are lost again in the black weeks or months are like long aerial depthsm-while new days, like new distances, in one line, whose contin. waves, foam, sparkle, and break, as uity is measured by no prominent did they!

object. At length, years only can be One by one come to us days and seen, and not even those finally. For, years. Coming, they have individu- ! as sailors leaving the harbour oarry ality. But recoding from us they lose with them for a long time the sight of

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the shore, but sailing still, lose first | And if these living and throbbing
the low water-lines, but cling by the realities are faded out, it will be use.
eye to the higher masses, which in less for me to ask you after the ser-
time, in the ever sailing, fade and mons. They were gone before they
sink, leaving nothing but some height were finished. They fell upon your
lifted far up like Teneriffe, which, dissolving ear as flakes of snow upon
after the night is passed, is all gone, water, and were gone in the very act
hidden by the bend of the earth's of touching!
surface !--so, even high-topped years How much do you recall from the
at length are shut down from our green graveyard? What memories
memory by the bend of the vast cycles come thence, from that populous city
of Time.

without a magistrate. without a law. How wonderfully true is it that we where all who quarrelled on earth spend our lives as a tale that is told ! are now peaceable dust keeping exCome, go back with me.

cellent neighbourhood! Who were the members of your And thus I might go on, tracing, father's family! Besides your bro step by step, your entrance upon life thers and sisters, who dwelt there? - your early endeavours--your first Who visited? Who came and went ? hopes of manhood. Who were the neighbours? These But let us change the method, and things were vivid realities to you try the truth of this description in when a child. What are they now? another way. Mere marks! As a landscape artist Call up the unwritten dreams and plants in the foreground figures with reveries of the past! They have filled limbs and features clear, but in the years in all. You have woven fabrics far-off distance, when he would paint of every pattern in the loom of fancy. a figure, takes his brush and spots You have reared up castles, peopled down a mere dash-a formless colour them with heroes; you have lost and mark; so to us are the living things found treasures; travelled and exof the neighbourhood. Some, to be plored, fought and conquered, loved sure, stand up and remain. But a and won, all in airy fantasies; and milion are forgotten where one re thus worn out the watchful night, or mains !

wiled pain from consciousness in the Who went with you to the village weary sickness. Is that part of your school? Call the roll! Who were life gone ? All gone! the successive teachers --Popes of the Birds gathered for flight in autumn, ferule?

rising high above snare or shot, and Who were the girls? Who the flyiug toward equatorial summer, boys? Then, when the uproarious often chance in their course to cast a school broke forth in tumult at dis feather from the wing which carries missal, if I had asked you, you could them through the air-brilliant in have given every name. Now, call colour, and curved like a bow---which, them up! Who sat by you on the wavering and swaying, falls into some right? who on the left? Who were thicket, while they flock on. And in the first class? who in the second ? | when, the seasons changing, they are These were important things then. | recalled, and fly now northward over Who was whipped? and who was the same ranges, they reach the spot liever once struck? These, to you, | where dropped the spent feather, can were then more important than the they see it, or find it any more? It roar of European revolution, the is lost and hidden for ever! And so burning of Moscow, the battle of our youthful fancies, which carried Waterloo ; but what do you remem us far above human life and reality, ber of them? Some memories are are fallen, and like the downiest feamore tenacious than others. A few ther from the wing, are lost and forwill reproduce much; more, some; gotten! If a tale that is told fades, most, but little if any!

how much rather those untold traHow much can you recall from the ceries of thought and subtilest evoluchurch? Who went with you? Who tions of inarticulate fancy! sat about you? Who were the old Where are the admirations which men? Who were in their prime? set the mind all a-sparkle? Where is And who, like yourself, were young? | the record of the wonders, the sur

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prises, the ten thousand excitements, | the dangers that shook your courage, which broke the level of life, and and all those things which in their brought interjections to the lips? | time wrung from you cries and That a dull routine should be forgot- prayers for relief, -you have not ten is not strange. But where are only surmounted and outlived, but the salient experiences of life, the mostly forgotten. events which beat upon the attention Love, alone, stands with an undi: like a drum, or roused up your pas minished memory! What we hav! cions like a trumpet?

cuce really loved we never forget: Only a few of all the myriads re The friendship of youth, the nam main ! As one who goes forth from and generous confidences of trur a populous town, often lookiug back, i affection, the tender worship of a Lees it sbrinking and growing smaller, true heart, are immutable! All other houses fading, and the complexity of feelings write their memories u; on treets and buildings growing to a glass with avons-Love writes upcu incre spot, and, at length, only le. | crystal with a diamond. For, of all holds here and there a long spire the heart's powers, this alone is some agajust the sky, or single tower, all į reign. And, being sovereign, God

est confused and hidden: so, in ! has crowned it with immortality, and the past, but one or two high-reaching given to Memory charge to keep experiences remain, while all the di ¡ unwasted all its experiences! Und Yerse and populous experiences bei Memory, that is tenacious of pothing sides are covered down and forgotten! | else, lets nothing slip of the esperi

Your years of the past have been ences of true loving! built of the same materials as eu low to build your days. That rising and ! Another year has passel: Its falling emotions, what tow of endles inonths and its weeks already are thought, what perpetual succession of buried. Only days and hours remain. events, wluich arrest the attention and These are passing. One more sun. occupy the feelings; what endeavours, rise only hath this year! The next what successes, what failures, each morning shall shine upon the face of with its train of joy or pain, and each a new year! so important as to seein to leave in Let us turn, and bid farewell to clelible warks upon the inemory! the past and the passing! Farewell Yet, though there have been ten mil to its cares, to its burders, to its Jions of these, and though they were troubles ! Farewell to ftans, and of strength sufficient to hold you in hopes, and griefs! Farewell to its their thrall, and excite you with yearnings, its aspirations, its westpleasure, or agitate you with alarm, i lings! They are gone! or aftlict you with grief, sweeping the Farewell to many who walked the soul as wind sweeps the sea, and 1 year with us!--to the companion, raising as many tumultuous feelings i that was to us as an angel of Gol. as the sea bath waves, yet now the and is, now, an angel with God! smooth memory has shed them all! | Farewell to the babe that was outs. The trees will sooner remember all 1 and is God's, and therefore more than the successive leaves whose bosoms ever ours, though beyond the reach prepared the food for the growth of of our arips! But the heart terds it the wood, than you will recall the in yet, and cradles it more vigilantly numerable experiences of the past than ever! Farewell to our Christian which have formed and fashioned brethren, who have heard the trun. you to the shape which you wear! pet before us, and gone forward! The burdens which you could nct Year! thy march is ending! Thy carry for their weigbt are forgotten; work is done! Pass! Disappear! the sorrows that pierced you to the We shall see thee no more, until, re: heart have left scarcely their wame; ascending, we shall belrold thy record the troubles that blocked your way, ! in the Ill-judging Day!

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