University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

“Once more I breathe freely; the pestilence
has almost left us, and the citizens are returning.
Joy has taken the place of fear and trembling.
The hum of business and the crash of wheels are
heard, and I have opened my portfolio once more,
to lay before you in a more concocted form those
things which have crowded upon me since I last
wrote; which I believe was some two or three
weeks ago.

“I have again seen her, Randolph; have ridden
with her fifteen miles—have talked with her; and
by all that is lovely, have laughed with her. Think
of that, my dear fellow! Yet I am as profoundly
ignorant as to the cause of the blight which has
fallen upon her spirits, as I was when I first mentioned
the topic.

“How shall I tell you of those things which have
occurred in the last forty-eight hours? And where
shall I begin?

“When other people began again to crowd this
little island, Lamar and I began our promenades

in Broadway; and I will not conceal from you
that sundry glances were cast to the condition and
appearance of certain window-shutters and doors.
At length, and on a sudden, they began to assume
an indescribable appearance, as if some treasures
were enclosed within, which had not been stored
there of late. We saw no signal ribands through
the shutters, nor any intelligible announcement.
Our knowledge was derived from the external appearance
of the house alone. We approached the
house—rang the bell, and speedily the hospitablelooking
door was thrown wide open by the footman,
in as polite and welcoming an attitude as if
his young master and myself were never to become
rivals.

“Did you ever sit half an hour, examining the
cornice around the ceiling of a fashionable saloon,
or the texture of a Turkey carpet, or the veins of
an Italian marble slab? adjusting yourself twenty
different times and ways for the reception? conning
over your first speech—first short, then longer,
and at length, formal and spiteful. That was not
our case, for I had not fixed my mouth, even for a
speech, before the gay Isabel bounced into the
room, as full of hilarity as Lamar or Arthur could
have desired—but alone.

“ `I am truly sorry,' said she, `that we disappointed
you—but indeed, indeed, it was not my
fault. Brother brought such terrible accounts of
the epidemic, that mother would not hear of our
remaining two whole days longer, and Mr. Brumley

would still have gone, had we declined, and that
you know, Mr. Chevillere, would have been quite
the same to you as if we had all gone. You shall
have your revenge; we are all here again; and
will go to-morrow to the falls, if you are still in
the humour. Frances is out this morning, but I
will promise in her name.'

“We did not detain the gay girl any longer
with our morning visit than was barely sufficient
to arrange the same plans which we had adopted
before. I brought away with me abundant
materials for reflection during the intervening
hours. Of one thing I had now satisfied myself;
namely, that young Hazlehurst and Mr. Brumley
had conspired to defeat our previously arranged
jaunt. Perhaps conspired is too harsh a word;
but, certain it is, that they had needlessly frightened
the ladies from going to a place where they would
have been as free from infection as amid the
shades of Oakland itself. Perhaps you may
see the matter through a less jaundiced medium.
Be that as it may, I determined to move onward
in the career which I had laid out for myself, either
with or without their aid.

“Accordingly, on the next morning, we were
again blessed with a propitious day, and having
risen early, and forewarned Cato of our intentions
(which is always sufficient, you know) our equipage
was ready, and we were soon at the door.

“Isabel and the other equestrian young ladies
made their appearance at the window by the time

we had dismounted, arrayed in long riding skirts,
and plumed hats. Not so, however, the lady in
black, who leaned against the recess of the farthest
window, gazing out upon the passing scenes, as a
melancholy damsel will sometimes gaze upon a long
continued storm of rain. She wore no long skirt
nor plumed hat, but appeared in her usual travelling
garb. As we dismounted I saw a momentary
suffusion of the neck and face, but in an instant it
was gone, and she stood, sad, serene, and beautiful
as ever.

“After a hasty breakfast I led the way, conducting
Miss St. Clair. As I was about to enter
the carriage myself, Isabel sent a servant to smuggle
something under the seat of our cabriolet, in the
shape of a long box. I readily assisted in the
scheme, for I doubted not that it contained cold meats,
wine, and crackers,—I was wrong; it contained
something of far more importance to our pleasure,
but of that you shall hear in due time. We were soon
across the ferry and pursuing the road to Aquackenack
and Patterson. A gayer party you perhaps
never saw; if I except a certain lady, and even she
did not affectedly frown upon the gayety of others.
On the contrary, it seemed to raise her spirits in
her own peculiar way.

“Lamar and Arthur seemed to have left their
formality behind them, although the former escorted
Isabel. Of course I can only speak of what took
place between others of the party in general terms.

Of my own proceedings I suppose so little will not
satisfy you.

“Now was the interview granted me which I
had so earnestly desired; that is, it was practically
granted to me under another name; but will you
believe it, Randolph? I was confused, although the
case had been merely adjourned. The truth is, I
very foolishly attempted at first to support a general
conversation, when my mind was entirely engrossed
with a more interesting subject. At length
my confusion and absence became so apparent
through my blundering answers, that she actually
laughed outright. By old Noll's nose! I was glad
to see it, for it enabled me to say,—`You see, Miss
St. Clair, how impossible it is for me to converse
upon one subject, while my thoughts are running
upon another which has been too long deferred
already. Do not consider me abrupt or impertinent
if I now beg leave to renew it?'

“ `It would be affectation in me to pretend that
I too was not anxious to set your mind at rest upon
that subject.'

“Randolph, this took my breath completely
away from me; it was so firm, sudden, and unexpected.
I thought of the words again and again—
`set my mind at rest.' There was but one way to
interpret it; viz. that she was about to give me the
same kind of rest which the dead enjoy. However,
`onward' was my motto of the day previous, and I
continued; `I hope you speak of rest, in the happy
sense of the term?'

“`Indeed, sir, I cannot tell how you may interpret
it, but my meaning is, that no possible good
can grow out of the continuation of the subject
alluded to.'

“`And is Miss St. Clair so resolved to reject my
suit, even before I have fully pleaded my case?'

“`Indeed, indeed, sir, you must greatly mistake
my meaning. I did not understand that you had
laid a suit before me; but—'

“`Permit me to interrupt you before you go any
further. I do now, madam, offer myself—'

“`Stop! sir, stop! Let me interrupt you in
turn. You are about to do you know not what.
Suffer me to go on in the course which I had first
intended; and that is to say, that you do me far
more honour than I deserve, or even expected again,
from any one, for whom I should entertain so much
esteem as I do for Mr. Chevillere. But, sir, it is
impossible that I can ever encourage the addresses
of any gentleman. It is painful, sir, on my own
account, as well as your own and your mother's,
for me to say so; but fate has shut the door
against me, in that respect, long ago.'

“`Then it is not on my own personal account
that you thus peremptorily reject my suit.'

“`Indeed, sir, it is not.'

“`Then I breathe again! Now, Miss St. Clair,
listen to me with patience but a few moments. It
seems, from what I can understand of your rejection
of me, that it is from some imaginary cause
resting on your own inability, instead of my unworthiness,

which is acknowledged. Now, I am
not vain, if I know myself; and I would not boast
of what I could dare, or do, in such a case; but
there is no impropriety, I hope, in saying that it
will require the most extraordinary array of untoward
circumstances, to make me believe that the
fates have fixed the decision so irrevocably as you
seem now to think.'

“`But, sir, will you not take my own decision,
without entering into the why and the wherefore?'

“`Indeed, madam, I cannot. Forgive my boldness
and presumption; but I have never before
been a suitor before woman's shrine. I had lived
through twenty-three years before I saw you, unscathed.
Think, then, whether I am likely to give
up a pursuit at the very threshold, in which my
whole soul, my present happiness, and my mother's
happiness if you will, my future plans, and my
very existence are concerned.'

“`Your mother's happiness! Certainly, sir,
your mother does not encourage your present
course, knowing what she does?'

“`She has never had the opportunity. But you
add new vigour to my determination: you say, if
I understand you, that my mother is partly acquainted
with the circumstances which have conspired
to produce your determination.'

“`I do not know that I said exactly so; nor did
I intend to say so. It is nevertheless true.'

“`Then am I doubly armed against your resolves.
Trust me, dear lady—no trivial circumstance

shall unite my opinion with yours on this
subject. Perhaps it is a vow?'

“`It is not.'

“`What then can it be; is it impertinent in me
to ask?'

“`It is not, sir. But it is painful to me—painful
in the recollections which it revives—and painful
because I must seem strange and unreasonable in
denying you a present relation of them.'

“`And do you—will you deny me that relation?'

“`Indeed, indeed, sir, I must for the present.'

“`At some future day, not very far distant, will
you indulge me?—'

“`It is hard, sir, very hard to promise; yet to
avoid it—'

“`Thank you, thank you, dear lady.' I would
have seized her hand, and smothered her little
palpitating fingers with kisses, if the company had
not escorted us so confoundedly close; but I continued—`Perhaps
Miss St. Clair will pardon a still
further impertinence—is it too much to ask, if none
of these things had ever happened, whether my
suit would then have been rejected?'

“`I cannot now answer that question.'

“`Fix, then, the period of my probation; name
the happy day when you will give me this promised
history.'

“`Oh, sir, it will be any thing but a happy day
for me, and I am very sure it will be little more so
for you. Why then persist in a course which
must result in unhappiness to all parties? Trust

me, there is no affectation in the case, when I say
that we can never, never, sir, be more to each other
than simple friends. As such I am proud and
grateful to consider both you and your honoured
mother.'

“`You but add firmness to my resolves, when
you allude to the friendship of my mother. Say,
then, dear lady, would to-morrow be too early a
day?'

“`To-morrow! Since you are resolved upon
it, I will relate to you the history of my life.
Nothing less, it seems, will serve; but I must be at
home; the very sight of dear and cherished objects
around that place would comfort and reassure me,
if my own dear mother was not there also. But
to-morrow would not suffice, sir, even if I had the
opportunity required, in the house of a friend.
This history I have never fully disclosed to any
person living; I related some passages of my sad
story to your mother, not because she thought it
necessary, but because I thought it so; when I
saw her disposed to lavish upon me so much of
her cherished love and sympathy.'

“`I know well,' replied I, `what persons attract
her regard; she has an astonishing sagacity in
selecting the gold from the dross on such occasions.'

“It is useless for me to dwell upon every word,
Randolph. Suffice it to say, she consented that I
should visit her after her return to the quiet shades
of Oakland, upon the banks of the Hudson.

“It was truly gratifying to hear almost all the
ladies exclaim, when we reached the hill-side which
overlooks Patterson,—`Why, Frances, how the
ride has improved you!' In truth, her mind had
been harassed with the idea of the interview which
I had been seeking; but now she was relieved for
the present, and the effect was magical.

“An autumn sun shone out in all the splendour
of our most brilliant days of that more genial climate
in which you now sojourn. The trees were a
bronzed green, and the lingering flowers of the season
still greeted our delighted senses, as we strolled
among the hills of that romantic region. How
could she but inhale a portion of the surrounding
happiness? Her companions were gay and lively,
even to the romping mood; our anticipations were
bright, our pulsations impetuous; weather propitious,
scene brilliant, and journey prosperous. In
this condition of the party we arrived at the rude
enclosure on the top of the hill overlooking the
town of Patterson, on the side next the falls. We
soon entered an extensive and rugged area, interspersed
here and there with rude arbours and
booths, covered with green boughs of the forest,
and lined with seats, as if refreshments were occasionally
served out here to parties, from a little
shop of some kind, which stands near the entrance
to the area. We could now distinctly hear the
roar of the cataract, and see the river to the left
of us as we proceeded onwards, but were surprised
that we nowhere saw the falls.

“Following a beaten path over rugged beds of
projecting rocks in the direction of the sound, we
came to a narrow, covered bridge, thrown across
a dark and deep ravine, after ascending to the middle
of which we stood in front of the Passaic Falls.
The river before mentioned, about a stone's throw
from the bridge, came tumbling down a precipice
in great magnificence, sending up splendid wreaths
and festoons of vapour, through which the rays of
the sun exhibited the colours of the rainbow in surpassing
beauty. The river, after being dashed
down this precipice some eighty or a hundred feet,
into the abyss below, among the remnants of a
former convulsion of nature, is, by the concussion,
beaten into waves of white foam, and then gently
glides down the widening ravine, till it suddenly
changes its course around the base of a cliff in the
direction of the town, and expands again into its
accustomed width, stillness, and beauty.

“Each of our party, as is universally the case,
was impressed with the scene before us according
to his or her individuality. A consummate master
of all the workings of the human heart might have
found ample materials for study on the present occasion,
and though not one of those, I must still
give you the observations of a novice.

“Those who were fanciful and light of heart,
poured forth quotations from favourite poets.
Those with the organ of veneration more fully
developed, stood with hands clasped, eyes upturned,
attitudes startled, as if their souls shrank

from this too open and majestic display of the
power of the great mysterious mover of floods and
torrents. While the simple of heart and weak of
understanding exclaimed, `O! dear, how wonderful!'
`Only see! I declare it is beautiful! is it
not?' appealing to some one, perhaps, whose spirit,
with the mist of the cataract, was soaring into the
summitless regions of the heavens.

“But there was one, Randolph, who stood in the
solitude of the spirit, though in a crowd; there
was little outward exhibition of emotion to a less
curious observer than myself. The pupil of the
eye was distended to its utmost limits; her features
had assumed a chiselled distinctness, her lips were
compressed together, and her whole countenance
was in the highest degree abstracted and contemplative.
Many questions were addressed to her,
but she heeded them not; nor did a sound issue
from her lips louder than an occasional full inspiration,
as her beautiful bust heaved with the internal
and deep-seated emotions of the spirit.

“That is a profound abstraction which can entirely
withdraw us for a time from any communion
with external objects of sense. We see the misty
clouds as they heave each other from the gulf beneath.
We hear the thunders of the cataract, it is
true, but we hear on such occasions for the soul
alone, our social and conventional feelings are lost
and swallowed up in the profounder emotions of
adoration. We hold a more direct communion
with the great and mysterious spirit of the deep;

the eye becomes dim and watery with the eager
stretching of our glances into an awful futurity.
Not that we always direct our vision towards
what is farthest and least obstructed, for we often
glance upon the scene before us, looking, as it were,
through the tumbling torrent into a great abyss
below, as if we could see there the great master of
the scene. The soul does not scorn its prison-house,
because we learn to love even its weakness
too well; but it attempts too often to soar into those
regions which, to human organizations, are fearful,
dark, and shadowy.

“It is delightful to contemplate the reflection of
these scenes upon one of those imaginative beings
who can people the floods and torrents with the
darker creatures of their own imagination. Such
a one will walk abroad into the groves and forests,
at the hour of midnight, or stand upon the deck as
a vessel rolls through the black chasms of the
sea, in the darker hours of early morning; or stand
upon an eminence while the blackness of the storm
rages around, and the lightning quivers above, in
its gleaming gambols, and will people these regions
with misty forms and unearthly spirits, until earth
and all its lesser tempests, and man with all his
little cares, are forgotten. Are these wanderings
of the spirit a foretaste of what we shall be hereafter?
Will it be permitted to our disenthralled
spirits, as the stoics fondly hoped, to ride upon the
wings of these storms and tempests, revisit the
scenes of our earthly struggles, and see others as we

have been, vainly attempting to hold converse with
us? If it is delightful to contemplate the reflection
of these things upon a kindred spirit of the
sterner sex—how much more so to see these images
cast upon the pale transparent countenance of a
youthful female? Could you disturb the beatified
trembler, as the sportsman brings down the graceful
little flutterer from his sunny regions? No,
Randolph, you could not; you would have done
as I did; you would have stood guardian over
the fairy while she communed with the spirits of
the mist.

“There is something worth observing too in the
manner in which we come suddenly down from
this mysterious abstraction. We gaze on, entirely
unconscious of the time, and of the weakness of
our physical organs, until mere exhaustion compels
us to identify ourselves once more, and then arouse
from the trance like one waking from a deep sleep;
we look around on worldly objects first in a sort
of lofty contempt, and then perhaps despise our
own littleness of spirit.

“It was not so however with the fair dreamer
before me; when her eyes became so weak that
she could no longer distend the pupil, she first
looked around until she caught my steady gaze
and blushed; and then covering her face with her
hands, she withdrew to a secluded crag. But
there was yet another character left for me to
study, after she deserted—no less a personage
than lofty old Cato. He stood upon one of the

rugged cliffs, whence he could see the whole cataract,
with his arms folded upon his breast, and his
brows drawn down over his dark, stern countenance,
until you could almost have imagined him
the gloomy spirit of the scene himself. I know
that he has a soul of his own, and of rare excellence
too, but it is not metaphysical in its construction.
He looked as a sturdy old warrior of the ruder
ages may be supposed to have looked on such a
scene. But I fear I tire you with these descriptions,
on which you know that I love to dwell. I
will therefore pass on to one of the rude arbours
before mentioned, where all the company were
seated around a board spread with napkins, upon
which a cold collation formed a very inviting spectacle.
When we had all done ample justice to this
good cheer, and washed it down with a delicious
cup of light French wine, our party became truly
sociable. Indulgence in the creature comforts is
a wonderful leveller of distinctions and formalities.
We were now in the most delightful state of romposity.
Lamar was quite in the third heavens,
and, I doubt not, forgot entirely that such a man
as Arthur lived; much less did he remember that
he was eying him all the while. Young Hazlehurst
and old Mr. Brumley walked apart and conversed
confidentially. Something is hatching between
the two; but my motto is `onward;' I am
one of those who do not believe in the influence of
fathers on such occasions. I have no doubt that
there is a natural desire existing in these two families
to unite them; perhaps an understanding between
those who have no primary right in the
business; but of this more hereafter.

“Old Cato now entered by the orders of Isabel,
I suppose, with the smuggled long box which I
mentioned to you before. A green baize cloth
being removed from around it, I saw at once that
it was a flageolet case. Receiving the box from
his hand, I took out the instrument, and eyed every
lady on the rocks and seats around, to find to whom
it belonged. The ownership lay between Isabel
and Miss St. Clair; for the former smiled and the
latter blushed. On my presentation of it, Miss St.
Clair took it very reluctantly, and complained
loudly of Isabel's fraud; she took the instrument,
however, without affectation. Before commencing,
she gave us to understand that we were not to expect
fashionable music; and then, Randolph, she
commenced one of the wildest and most delightful
Scotch airs I ever heard. There was something
novel in this. I had never before heard the flageolet
except in dull, mechanical songs of the fashionable
school, and scarcely knew that any life and
feeling could be infused into its tones. Imagine
us seated on the rocks around this picturesque and
romantic spot, listening to music as wild as the
scene itself, from the hand of an enthusiast.

“`Now, ladies and gentlemen,' said Isabel, `I
wish to put to the test one of Frances's theories
with regard to the effects of music. She contends
that every air conveys specific impressions to the

mind and feelings of the different hearers, varied
somewhat, indeed, by the character of the individual.'

“`Indeed, Isabel, this is very unfair,' said the
frowning performer; `you first stealthily introduce
my instrument, and then bring some of our
thoughtless discussions to the test by means of my
own performances, which, you must recollect, I
never pretended would have much effect.'

“All insisted upon the trial; and each prepared
to give way to the natural feelings excited by the
music, as little interrupted by others as possible.

“The air was one of the same Scotch effusions,
peculiarly touching in its effects, and most appropriate
to the scene. When it ceased, Isabel required
each one to write with a pencil the impression
made. She found much difficulty in getting
some of her female coadjutors to comply. The
fact is, that many persons are so unaccustomed to
imbodying out their feelings on any given occasion,
that they find it no easy matter. All made the
attempt, however, after being assured that no
names would be required to the papers; and as
these were all of the same size and cast into a hat,
the writer alone could know each as it was read.
Lamar collected the ballots, and then seated himself
to read them. I must try to recollect a few
for the amusement of your convalescence.

“First ballot. `This air excites in my mind
visions of wild glens and brooks.'

“Second ballot. `Highland scenery, with kilts
and tartans.'

“Third ballot. `Mountain passes, and wild
herds of forest animals.'

“Fourth ballot. `Associations connected with
the surrounding scene.'

“Fifth ballot. `Romantic adventures, of which
the fair musician is the heroine.'

“Although there was undeniable frivolity in this,
yet the gravest of us was surprised to see the
identical vein which ran through the thoughts of
all. The experiment was repeated once and again,
and always with like success, when the music was
Scotch, Tyrolese, or German, and entirely unknown;
the latter we found essential to an identical
effect in all: for if any one had before heard
the air, it invariably called up associations of the
time and place and persons connected with its first
performance.

“Almost a unanimous vote declared victory in
favour of the performer; her more gay and dashing
friend admitting herself vanquished with becoming
grace.

“During our ride to the city, the transition from
the foregoing subject to national music was natural
and easy, and as my companion's ideas were somewhat
new to me, I must endeavour to recollect a
little of our conversation.

“`I am truly rejoiced,' said I, `that you are not
an admirer, nor a performer of fashionable music.'

“`It is not the result of principle with me, but

the dictates of what I always thought my own
peculiar taste.'

“`Both my taste and judgment are in perfect
unison with yours, and I must acknowledge myself
indebted to you for some new ideas on the subject.
I have always been a reviler of what I considered
an affectation of fondness for Italian and French
music. But is it not strange that we have had no
American composer of any celebrity, nor any national
music?'

“`It is owing, I believe,' said she, `to the very
cause we have been speaking of. Italian music is
only suited to those double-refined and palled
tastes, which have passed through ages of effeminate
luxury to complete them. Affectation and
fashion have engrafted this style of music into our
systems of education, without once inquiring whether
it is suited to the taste and genius of the
people, and the features of the country. What is
the result? It is, that we have no composers,
no enthusiasts, and no native performers,—except
such as are mechanical and artificial.'

“`You think, then, that the features of a country
have some connexion with a national taste for
music.'

“`I do; and that if our natural and unsophisticated
tastes were consulted, we should have music
in keeping with our wild and majestic scenery.
In proof that this is true, and not founded entirely
on my own taste, look at the music of Switzerland,
Scotland, and Germany, in comparison with the

Italian and French. Each of these nations has
music suited to the traits of the country and the
corresponding genius of the people. We should
have such here, if those who have by nature a
taste and genius for the art were not uniformly
disgusted at the very threshold, by a style with which
they have no sympathy. Others, with less genius
and no taste, escape this disgust, and are pushed
forward, and called great performers, when in fact
nothing but their very deficiency in natural qualifications
enables them to succeed at all.'

“`It is perhaps our refinement, instead of our
rudeness, which prevents the development of these
capabilities.'

“`True; but the word refinement must, I think,
be qualified. Our refinement in the art is of foreign
growth, and is pretty much the same kind of
culture which a gourmand gives to his appetite.
He refines upon refinement, in one dish after
another, until he no longer possesses any relish for
those articles of food which nature has evidently
provided for us. So in Italian music; its votaries
have become more exquisite, until it has lost the
power to charm the natural ear.'

“`On your hypothesis, Miss St. Clair, it would
be much the same thing to feed a lion upon blanc
mange, as to offer this double refined music to an
American ear which had not been tampered with.'

“`Exactly so, sir! Though his majesty of the
forest is rather too rough a trope for our countrymen.'

“`I stand corrected, madam.'

“Randolph, there is something charming in the
enthusiasm of woman; far more so than in that of
our sex! With the latter is too often mingled the
inspiration of wine, the rant of passion, or the artificial
and selfish exaltation of ambition, vanity, and
conceit of genius. Female enthusiasm is pure,
touching, and sincere; divested of self, generous and
benevolent to others. Besides, it seems so natural
to the sex to be raised `above the stir and smoke
of this dim spot which men call earth,' that they
appear to soar in their proper element. Their
enthusiasm is carried out even into their every-day
concerns too; they are enthusiastic in their taste,
in their friendships, in their hatreds, in their religion,
and in their love. Ah! Randolph, there is
the key-stone to the arch. Nature has endowed
them with these generous and high-toned feelings,
from the wisest and most benevolent designs
towards man; upon this natural peculiarity of the
other sex rests more of man's happiness than we
generally suppose. The old look back to its early
influence with a sad but pleasing excitement, such
as we feel in pleasant dreams. The present generation
act, and fret, and fight, and trade, and grow
rich, all for its genial blessing; while the young
live in the constant hopes of its early fruition.
`Woman loves but once and loves for ever,' is the
language of one of the most touching and pathetic
songs in our language. Most men deny the truth
of this text, because they are interested in doing so;

thinking generally, that if this is true, their wives
are false, because they were not the first choice, nor
could they have been in the nature of things.

“All women are not false to their husbands, who
cherish these dear and flowery dreams of early
youth, in some remote and secret corner of the
heart. So far from it, that I doubt not many of
them have a more fond and enduring attachment
to their lords from throwing habitually the colours
of these early tints over their more mature engagements.
These romances season all the after life,
and invest us, as we glide down the vale, with a
richer mantle than that of prophecy.

“All men and women have these little secrets
locked up within their own hearts, as dear and
nourished treasures which grow richer as they
grow older, and are really inestimable when the
time comes in which the pleasures of the present
consist in a retrospect of the past.