Looking Toward Sunset

Part 1

LOOKING TOWARD SUNSET.

FROM

SOURCES OLD, NEW, ORIGINAL, AND SELECTED.

LOOKING TOWARD SUNSET.

From Sources Old and New, Original and Selected.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

“When the Sun is setting, cool fall its gleams upon the earth, and the shadows lengthen; but they all point toward the Morning.” JEAN PAUL RICHTER.

“I am fully convinced that the Soul is indestructible, and that its activity will continue through eternity. It is like the Sun, which, to our eyes, seems to set in night; but it has in reality only gone to diffuse its light elsewhere.”--GOETHE.

BOSTON: HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. The Riverside Press, Cambridge. 1881.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by

L. MARIA CHILD,

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

TWELFTH EDITION.

MY DEAR AND HONORED FRIENDS

MISS LUCY OSGOOD AND MISS HENRIETTA SARGENT,

This Volume

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,

IN TOKEN OF GRATITUDE FOR THEIR EXAMPLE, WHICH CONFERS BEAUTY AND DIGNITY ON DECLINING YEARS, BY ACTIVE USEFULNESS AND KINDLY SYMPATHY WITH THE HUMAN RACE.

PREFACE.

I occasionally meet people who say to me, “I had many a pleasant hour, in my childhood, reading your Juvenile Miscellany; and now I am enjoying it over again, with my own little folks.”

Such remarks remind me that I have been a long time in the world; but if a few acknowledge me as the household friend of two generations, it is a pleasant assurance that I have not lived altogether in vain.

When I was myself near the fairy-land of childhood, I used my pen for the pleasure of children; and now that I am travelling down the hill I was then ascending, I would fain give some words of consolation and cheer to my companions on the way. If the rays of my morning have helped to germinate seeds that ripened into flowers and fruit, I am grateful to Him, from whom all light and warmth proceeds. And now I reverently ask His blessing on this attempt to imitate, in my humble way, the setting rays of that great luminary, which throws cheerful gleams into so many lonely old homes, which kindles golden fires on trees whose foliage is falling, and lights up the silvered heads on which it rests with a glory that reminds one of immortal crowns.

L. MARIA CHILD.

CONTENTS.

PAGE THE FRIENDS L. M. Child 1

THE GOOD OLD GRANDMOTHER Anonymous 37

THE CONSOLATIONS OF AGE Zschokke 39

THE OLD MAN DREAMS O. W. Holmes 44

Part 2

A RUSSIAN LADY 46

THE OLD MAN’S SONG Anonymous 51

THE TWENTY-SEVENTH OF MARCH W. C. Bryant 52

A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR Charles Dickens 53 GRANDFATHER

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO Robert Burns 60

OLD FOLKS AT HOME L. M. Child 61

EVERLASTING YOUTH Edmund H. Sears 62

LIFE Mrs. Barbauld 68

THE MYSTERIOUS PILGRIMAGE L. M. Child 69

THE HAPPIEST TIME Eliza Cook 81

ODE OF ANACREON 84

CICERO’S ESSAY ON OLD AGE 85

THE FOUNTAIN W. Wordsworth 98

A POET’S BLESSING Uhland 101

BERNARD PALISSY 102

OLD AGE COMING Elizabeth Hamilton 123

UNMARRIED WOMEN L. M. Child 127

THE OLD MAID’S PRAYER Mrs. Tighe 144

GRANDFATHER’S REVERIE Theodore Parker 146

THE HOUSE IN THE MEADOW Louise C. Moulton 149

A STORY OF ST. MARK’S EVE Thomas Hood 152

WHAT THE OLD WOMAN SAID Anonymous 161

THE SPRING JOURNEY Heber 163

MORAL HINTS L. M. Child 164

THE BOYS O. W. Holmes 184

ODE OF ANACREON 185

MYSTERIOUSNESS OF LIFE Mountford 186

THE GRANDMOTHER’S APOLOGY Alfred Tennyson 189

Part 3

THE ANCIENT MAN J. P. Richter 193

MILTON’S HYMN OF PATIENCE Elizabeth L. Howell 210

LETTER FROM AN OLD WOMAN L. M. Child 212

BRIGHT DAYS IN WINTER John G. Whittier 223

THE CANARY BIRD John Sterling 224

OLD BACHELORS L. M. Child 225

TAKING IT EASY G. H. Clark 238

OLD AUNTY Anonymous 241

RICHARD AND KATE Robert Bloomfield 250

LUDOVICO CORNARO 256

ROBIN AND JEANNIE Dora Greenwell 271

A GOOD OLD AGE Mountford 273

MY PSALM John G. Whittier 276

JOHN HENRY VON DANNECKER 279

THE KITTEN AND FALLING LEAVES W. Wordsworth 290

DR. DODDRIDGE’S DREAM 292

THE OLD PSALM-TUNE Harriet B. Stowe 297

THE LOST BOOKS OF LIVY 300

TO ONE WHO WISHED ME SIXTEEN Alice Cary 322 YEARS OLD

GROWING OLD Dinah Muloch 324

EQUINOCTIAL Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney 334

EPITAPH ON THE UNMATED E. S. 335

A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT Convers Francis 336

AT ANCHOR Anonymous 339

NOVEMBER H. W. Beecher 341

MEDITATIONS ON A BIRTHDAY EVE John Pierpont 343

THE GRANDMOTHER OF SLAVES H. J. 346

AULD LANG SYNE Robert Burns 362

Part 4

OLD FOLKS AT HOME L. M. Child 363

OLD UNCLE TOMMY M. S. 364

SITTING IN THE SUN Anonymous 377

AUNT KINDLY Theodore Parker 379

CROSSING OVER Uhland 383

A LOVE AFFAIR AT CRANFORD Mrs. Gaskell 385

TO MY WIFE Anonymous 408

THE EVERGREEN OF OUR FEELINGS J. P. Richter 410

OUR SECRET DRAWER Anonymous 414

THE GOLDEN WEDDING F. A. Bremer 416

THE WORN WEDDING RING W. C. Bennett 424

HINTS ABOUT HEALTH L. M. Child 427

THE INVALID’S PRAYER Wesley 440

THE OLD PASTOR AND HIS SON J. P. Richter 441

REST AT EVENING Adelaide A. Procter 454

THE FRIENDS.

BY L. M. CHILD.

“By some especial care Her temper had been framed, as if to make A being, who, by adding love to peace, Might live on earth a life of happiness.”

Wordsworth.

In the interior of Maine two girls grew to womanhood in houses so near that they could nod and smile to each other while they were making the beds in the morning, and chat through the open fence that separated their gardens when they went to pick currants for the tea-table. Both were daughters of farmers; but Harriet Brown’s father had money in the bank, while Jane White’s father was struggling hard to pay off a mortgage. Jane was not a beauty, but her fresh, healthy countenance was pleasant to look upon. Her large blue eyes had a very innocent expression, and there was always in them the suggestion of a smile, as if they sung the first note of a merry song for the lips to follow. Harriet was the belle of the county; with rosy cheeks, a well-shaped mouth, and black eyes, that were very bright, without being luminous from within. A close observer of physiognomy could easily determine which of the girls had most of heart and soul. But they were both favorites in the village, and the young men thought it was a pretty sight to see them together. In fact, they were rarely seen apart. Their leisure moments, on bright winter days, were spent in snow-balling each other across the garden-fence; and they kept up the sport hilariously long after their hands were numb and red with cold. In the long evenings, they made wagers which would soonest finish a pair of socks; and merry were the little crowings over the vanquished party. In spring, they hunted anemones and violets together. In autumn, they filled their aprons with brilliant-colored leaves to decorate the mantel-piece; stopping ever and anon to twine the prettiest specimens in each other’s hair. They both sat in the singing-seats at meeting. Harriet’s shrill voice was always heard above Jane’s, but it was defective in modulation, while music flowed through the warbling voice of her companion. They often bought dresses alike, with the agreement that, when the sleeves were worn, the two skirts should be used to make a new dress for the one who first needed it; and shrewd observers remarked that Harriet usually had the benefit of such bargains. Jane waited assiduously upon her mother, while Harriet’s mother waited upon her. One seemed to have come into the world to be ministered unto, and the other to minister. Harriet was prim in company, and some called her rather proud; but Jane was deemed imprudent, because whatever she said or did bubbled out of her heart. Their friendship was not founded on any harmonious accord of character; few friendships are. They were born next door to each other, and no other girls of their own age happened to be near neighbors. The youthful heart runs over so perpetually, that it needs another into which to pour its ever-flowing stream. Impelled by this necessity, they often shared each other’s sleeping apartments, and talked late into the night. They could not have told, the next day, what they had talked about. Their conversation was a continuous movement of hilarious nothings, with a running accompaniment of laughter. It was like the froth of whip-syllabub, of which the rustic took a spoonful into his mouth, and finding it gone without leaving a taste behind, he searched the carpet for it. The girls, however, never looked after the silly bubbles of their bubbling syllables. Harriet thought Jane excessively funny, and such an appreciative audience was stimulus sufficient to keep her friend’s tongue in motion.

“O Hatty, the moon’s up, and it’s as light as a cork!” exclaimed Jane, springing out of bed in the summer’s night, and looking out of the window.

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