THE NEW YEAR.
Another year has just glided away, and it seems but as yesterday that we
stood at its threshold, and looked forward over its then seemingly
lengthened way, and fancy was busy with many plans and projects for
future happiness and delight. We looked forward through the whole border
of its months, weeks, days and hours, and life grew bright with pleased
anticipations. The year has now passed away, and how few, very few, of
all our bright hopes have been realized. With how many of us have
unexpected and unwished for events taken the place of those to which we
looked forward with so much delight.
As the hours and moments of the past year have slowly glided into
the ocean of the past, they have borne with them the treasures of many a
fond heart. The sun shines as brightly as ever, the moon and stars still
look placidly down upon the sleeping earth, and life is the same as it
has ever been; but for these their work is over, and they have done with
time. As I sat watching the fast gathering shadows over the last night
of the old year, I fell into a sort of waking dream, and I seemed to
hear the slow measured tread of one wearily approaching. Turning my eyes
in the direction of the approaching footsteps, I beheld the form of a
very aged man; his countenance appeared somewhat familiar, yet it was
furrowed by many wrinkles, and on his once high and beautiful forehead
were the deep lines of corroding care and anxiety.
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