192. AGE, Oppressed by.—
The hand of
age is upon me. All my old friends are
nearly gone. Of those in my neighborhood,
Mr. Divers and Mr. Lindsay alone remain.
If you could make it a partie quarree, it
would be a comfort indeed. We would beguile
our lingering hours with talking over
our youthful exploits, our hunts on Peter's
mountain, with a long train of et cetera, in
addition, and feel, by recollection at least,
a momentary flash of youth. Reviewing the
course of a long and sufficiently successful
life, I find in no portion of it happier moments
than those were.—
To James Maury. Washington ed. vi, 54.
Ford ed., ix, 351.
(M.
1812)
