LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 715.-6 FEBRUARY, 1858.

From Chamber's Journal. A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT

WOMEN.

GROWING OLD.

Do ye think of the days that are gone, Jeanie,
As ye sit by your fire at night?

Do ye wish that the morn would bring back the
time,

When your heart and your step were so light? "I think of the days that are gone, Robin, And of all that I joyed in then:

to the summit of life, whence the next step
must necessarily be decadence. Ay, though
you do not feel it; though the air may be as
fresh, and the view as grand-still, you know
that it is so. Slower or faster, you are going
down-hill. To those who go "hand-in-hand,”
"And sleep thegither at the foot,"

it be a safer and sweeter descent; but I
may
am writing for those who have to make the
descent alone.

But the brightest that ever arose on me,
I have never wished back again."
It is not a pleasant descent at the begin-
GROWING old. A time we talk of, and ning. When you find at parties that you
jest or moralize over, but find almost impos- are not asked to dance as much as formerly,
sible to realize at least to ourselves. In and your partners are chiefly stout middle-
others, we can see its approach clearer: yet aged gentlemen and slim lads who blush
even then we are slow to recognize it. terribly and require a great deal of drawing
"What, Miss So-and-so looking old-did you out. When you are "dear "-ed and patro-
say? Impossible: she is quite a young per-nized by stylish young chits who were in their
son; only a year older than I—and that cradles when you were a grown woman; or
would make her just- Bless me! I am when some boy, who was your plaything in
forgetting how time goes on. Yes"-with petticoats, has the impertinence to look over
a faint deprecation which truth forbids you
to contradict, and politeness to notice "I
suppose we are neither of us so young as we
used to be."

your head, bearded and grand, or even to consult you on his love-affairs. When you find your acquaintance delicately abstaining from the term "old-maid " in your presence, Without doubt, it is a trying crisis in a or immediately qualifying it by an eager panwoman's life—a single woman's particularly egyric on the solitary sisterhood. When -when she begins to suspect she is "not so servants address you as "Ma'am" instead of young as she used to be;" that, after crying" Miss; " and if you are at all stout and com"Wolf" ever since the respectable maturity fortable-looking, strange shopkeepers persist of seventeen-as some young ladies are fond in making out your bills to "Mrs. Blank," of doing, to the extreme amusement of their and pressing upon your notice toys and perfriends the grim wolf, old age, is actually ambulators. showing his teeth in the distance; and no Rather trying, too, when in speaking of courteous blindness on the part of these said yourself as a 'girl"-which, from long friends, no alarmed indifference on her own, habit, you unwittingly do-you detect a can neutralize the fact that he is, if still far covert smile on the face of your interlocutor; off, in sight. And, however charmingly poet- or, led by chance excitement to deport yourical he may appear to sweet fourteen-and-a- self in an ultra-youthful manner, some inhalf, who writes melancholy verses about "I stinct warns you that you are making yourwish I were again a child," or merry three- self ridiculous. Or catching in some strange and-twenty, who preserves in silver paper "my looking-glass the face that you are too fafirst gray hair," old age, viewed as a near miliar with to notice much, ordinarily, you approaching reality, is quite another thing. suddenly become aware that it is not a young To feel that you have had your fair half at face; that it will never be a young faceleast of the ordinary term of years allotted again; that it will gradually alter and alter, to mortals; that you have no right to expect until the known face of your girlhood,. to be any handsomer, or stronger, or hap- whether plain or pretty, loved or disliked, ad pier than you are now; that you have climbed mired or despised, will have altogether van-DCCXV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XX. 21

The other sort of dress, which, it must be owned, is less frequent, is the dowdy style. Yet why should she do it? Why cling so People say-though not very soon-'Oh, I

am not a young woman now; it does no signify what I wear.' Whether they quite believe it, is another question; but they say it-and act upon it when laziness or indifference prompts. Foolish women! they forget that if we have reason at any time more than another to mind our "looks," it is when our looks are departing from us. Youth can do almost any thing in the toilet-middle age cannot; yet is none the less bound to present to her friends and society the most pleasing exterior she can. Easy is it to do this when we have those about us who love us, and take notice of what we wear, and in whose eyes we would like to appear gracious and lovely to the last, so far as nature allows; not easy when things are otherwise. This passions die out, or are quieted down, the perhaps is the reason why we see so many unmarried women grow careless and "oldfashioned" in their dress" What does it signify-nobody cares."

ration no Fifth of November) involuntarily "making a Guy of herself."

That slow, fine, and yet perceptible change of mien and behavior, natural and proper to advancing years, is scarcely reducible to rule. at all. It is but the outward reflection of an inward process of the mind. We only discover its full effect by the absence of it, as noticeable in a person "who has such very 'young' manners," who falls into raptures of enthusiasm, and expresses loudly every emotion of her nature. Such a character, when real, is unobjectionable, nay, charming, in extreme youth; but the great improbability of its being real, makes it rather ludicrous, if not disagreeable, in mature age, when the

sense of happiness,itself is calm, and the fullest, tenderest tide of which the loving heart is capable, may be described by those "still waters" which "run deep."

I think a woman ought to care a little for To "grow old gracefully," as one, who truly herself a very little. Without preaching up has exemplified her theory, has written and vanity, or undue waste of time over that most expressed it, is a good and beautiful thing; thankless duty of adorning one's self for no-to grow old worthily, a better. And the first body's pleasure in particular-is it not still a effort to that end, is not only to recognize, right and becoming to feeling have some but to become personally reconciled to respect for that personality which, as well as the fact of youth's departure; to see,'or, if our soul, heaven gave us to make the best of? not seeing, to have faith in, the wisdom of And is it not our duty-considering the great that which we call change, yet which is in number of uncomely people there are in the truth progression; to follow openly and fearworld to lessen it by each of us making lessly, in ourselves and our own life, the same herself as little uncomely as she can ? law which makes spring pass into summer, summer into autumn, autumn into winter, preserving an especial beauty and fitness in each of the four.

Because a lady ceases to dress youthfully, she has no excuse for dressing untidily; and though having found out that one general style suits both her person, her taste, and Yes, if women could only believe it, there convenience, she keeps to it, and generally is a wonderful beauty even in growing old. prefers moulding the fashion to herself, The charm of expression arising from softrather than herself to the fashion. Still, ened temper or ripened intellect, often amthat is no reason why she should shock the ply atones for the loss of form and coloring; risible nerves of one generation, by shewing and, consequently, to those who never could up to them the out-of-date costume of an- boast either of these latter, years give much other. Neatness invariable; hues carefully more than they take away. A sensitive perharmonized, and, as time advances, subsiding son often requires half a lifetime to get thorinto a general unity of tone, softening and dark-oughly used to this corporeal machine, to atening in color, until black, white, and gray, tain a wholesome indifference both to its dealone remain, as the suitable garb for old age; fects and perfections—and to learn at last, these things are every woman's bounden duty what nobody would acquire from any teacher to observe as long as she lives. No poverty, but experience, that it is the mind alone grief, sickness, or loneliness-those mental which is of any consequence; that with causes which act so strongly upon the exter- good temper, sincerity, and a moderate stock nal life can justify any one (to use a phrase of brains-or even the two former only—any probably soon to be obsolete when charity sort of body can in time be made useful, reand common sense have left the rising gene-spectable, and agreeable, as a travelling dress

for the soul. Many a one, who was abso- | as we cease to expect, or conduct ourselves lutely plain in youth, thus grows pleasant and as if we expected, that Providence will apwell-looking in declining years. You will pear as Deus ex machinâ for our own prihardly ever find anybody, not ugly in mind, vate benefit. We are able to pass out of who is repulsively ugly in person after middle our own small daily sphere, and take interlife. est in the marvellous government of the uniSo with the character. If a woman is ever verse; to see the grand workings of cause to be wise or sensible, the chances are that and effect, the educing of good out of apshe will have become so somewhere between parent evil, the clearing away of the knots thirty and forty. Her natural good quali- in tangled destinies, general or individual, ties will have developed; her evil ones have the wonderful agency of time, change, and either been partly subdued, or have over-progress in ourselves, in those surrounding grown her like rampant weeds; for however us, and in the world at large. We have we may talk about people being "not a lived just long enough to catch a faint tone whit altered "—"just the same as ever or two of the large harmonies of nature and fate-to trace the apparent plot and purpose of our own life and that of others, sufficiently to make us content to sit still and see the play played out. As I once heard 'said: "We feel we should like to go on living, were it only out of curiosity."

not one of us is, or can be, for long together exactly the same; no more than that the body we carry with us is the identical body we were born with, or the one we supposed ours seven years ago. Therein, as in our spiritual self which inhabits it, goes on a perpetual change and renewal: if this ceased, the In small minds, this feeling expands itself result would be, not permanence, but cor- in meddling, gossiping, scandal-mongering; ruption. In moral and mental, as well as but such are only the abortive developments physical growth, it is impossible to remain of a right noble quality, which, properly stationary; if we do not advance we retro-guided, results in benefits incalculable to the grade. Talk of "too late to improve" individual and to society. For, undoubtedly, "too old to learn," &c. Idle words! A the after-half of life is the best workinghuman being should be improving with time. Beautiful is youth's enthusiasm, and every day of a lifetime; and will probably have to go on learning through all the ages of immortality.

And this brings me to one among the number of what I may term “ the pleasures of growing old.”

grand are its achievements; but the most solid and permanent good is done by the persistent strength and wide experience of middle age.

A principal agent in this is a blessing which rarely comes till then-contentment: not mere resignation, a passive acquiescence in what cannot be removed, but active contentment; bought, and cheaply, too, by a personal share in that daily account of joy and pain, which, the longer one lives the more one sees, is pretty equally balanced in all lives. Young people are happy-enjoy ecstatically, either in prospect or fruition, "the top of life;" but they are very seldom contented. It is not possible. Not till the cloudy maze is half travelled through, and we begin to see the object and purpose of it, can we really be content.

At our outset, "to love" is the verb we are most prone to conjugate; afterwards, we discover that though the first, it is by no means the sole verb in the grammar of life, or even the only one that implies (vide Lennie or Murray)" to be, to do, or to suffer." To know that is, to acquire, to find out, to be able to trace and appreciate the causes of things, gradually becomes a necessity, an exquisite delight. We begin to taste the full meaning of that promise which describes the other world as a place where "we shall know even as we are known." Nay, even this world, with all its burdens and pains, One great element in this-nor let us presents itself in a phase of abstract interest think shame to grant that which God and naentirely apart from ourselves and our small ture also allow-consists in the doubtful lot therein, whether joyful or sorrowful. question "to marry or not to marry," being We take pleasure in tracing the large work- by this time generally settled; the world's ings of all things-more clearly apprehended idle curiosity or impertinent meddling there

Sir, may I put to you, and will you answer, three questions? First, did not the Almighty govern this world very well before you came into it?" "Of course."

"And will He not also do the same when you are gone out of it? " "I know that."

"Then, do you not think, sir, that He is able to govern it while you are in it ? " The ambassador smiled assent, turned round, and slept calmly.

Alas, it is the slowest and most painful lesson that Faith has to learn-Faith, not Indifference to do steadfastly and patiently all that lies to her hand; and there leave it, believing that the Almighty is able to govern His own world.

with having came to an end; which alone is | many things "—whom I would fain remind of a great boon to any woman. Her relations the anecdote of the ambassador in China. To with the other sex imperceptibly change their him, tossing sleepless on his bed, his old sercharacter, or slowly decline. Though there vant said : are exceptions, of old lovers who have become friends, and friends whom no new love could make swerve from the fealty of years, still it usually happens thus. If a woman wishes to retain her sway over mankind, not an unnatural wish even in the good and amiable, who have been long used to attention and admiration in society, she must do it by means quite different from any she has hitherto employed. Even then, be her wit ever so sparkling, her influence ever so pure and true, she will often find her listener preferring bright eyes to intellectual conversation, and the satisfaction of his heart to the improvement of his mind. And who can blame him? Pleasant as men's society undoubtedly is; honorable, well-informed gentlemen, who meet a lady on the easy neutral ground of mutual esteem, and take more pains to be agreeable to her than, unfortunately, her own sex frequently do; they are, after all, but men. Not one of them is really necessary to a woman's happiness, except the one whom, by this time, she has probably either seen, or lost, or found. Therefore, however uncomplimentary this may sound to those charming and devoted creatures, which of course they always are in ladies', young ladies' society, an elderly lady may be well content to let them go, before they depart of their own accord. I fear the waning coquette and the ancient beauty, as well as the ordinary women, who has had her fair share of both love and liking, must learn and shew by her demeanor she has learned that the only way to preserve the unfeigned respect of the opposite sex, is by letting them see that she can do without either their attention or their admiration.

It is said that we suffer less as we grow older, that pain, like joy, becomes dulled by repetition, or by the callousness that comes with years. In one sense this is true. If there is no joy like the joy of youth, the rapture of a first love, the thrill of a first ambition, God's great mercy has also granted that there is no anguish like youth's pain; so total, so hopeless, blotting out earth and heaven, falling down upon the whole being like a stone. This never comes in after-life, because the sufferer, if he or she have lived to any purpose at all, has learned that God never meant any human being to be crushed under any calamity like a blindworm under a stone.

For lesser evils, the fact that our interests gradually take a wider range, allows more scope for the healing power of compensation. Also our strongest idiosyncrasies, our loves, hates, sympathies, and prejudices, having assumed a more rational and softened shape, we do not present so many angles for the rough attrition of the world. Likewise, with the eye of that Faith already referred to, we have come to view life in its entirety, instead of agonizingly puzzling over its disjointed parts, which are not, and were never meant to be, made wholly clear to mortal eye. And that calm twilight, which by nature's kindly law so soon begins to creep over the past, throws over all things a softened coloring which together transcends and forbids re

Another source of contentment which in youth's fierce self-dependence it would be vain to look for-is the recognition of one's own comparative unimportance and helplessness in the scale of fate. We begin by thinking we can do everything, and that everything rests with us to do; the merest trifle frets and disturbs us, the restless heart wearies itself with anxieties over its own future, the tender one over the futures of those dear to it. Many a young face do I see, wearing the indescribable Martha-look-" troubled about gret. I suppose there is hardly any woman