TIME, 65 



We intended to make a few suggestions, and draw some inferences ; 

 but, as "the facts" are before readers as intelligent and acute, and, we 

 hope, vastly more so than ourselves, we will permit them to do it for 

 themselves ; only remarking, that if our hero be a fair representative 

 of his race, we have learned to fear rattle-snakes less, and respect them 

 more. ****** ^_ 



TIME. 



"Now, is the conslmit syllabJc ticking from the clock of time. 



Nov\^, is the loalchivord of the zvise. Now is on the banner of the 

 jirudcnl. 



Cherish thy to-day and prize it loell, or ever it he gulfed into the past. 



Husband it, for who can promise if it shall have a morrowP'' 



TurrER. 



Time! what kind of stuff is it made of? Moments, which glide 

 away like the bubbles that float on the rapid stream. To-morrow is 

 not ; and yesterday, like foot-prints on the shore, is obliterated by the 

 waves of eternity. Time, then, is to-day, now, whilst I write and mind 

 is busied with its own imaginings. Time has been personified ; an aged 

 man, with scythe and hour-glass, and head all bald, save a single tuft on 

 his forehead. With this representation we would not quarrel. The 

 sands of that glass do truly tell how noiselessly and ceaselessly the stream 

 of life is flowing away. That scythe too surely indicates the certainty 

 and the cruelty of the destruction with which he cuts down our dearest 

 hopes ; and that bald head and naked form teach most clearly, that 

 when he is past he can no more be seized and his progress arrested, 

 and that the only hope, which the child of indolence can have of de- 

 laying his progress, is to lay hold of his fore-lock and hold him with 

 an unbroken grasp. Old is he too ; the first-born of earth. When 

 this ponderous ball, on which we tread first began to move on its axis 

 and to perform its annual revolutions around the sun, then time began 

 to live, and, with the sons of God, shouted for joy and sang in chorus 

 the praises of the great I am. Much has this old man seen in closet 

 and chamber, in the wilderness and the city, on the sea and the land ; 

 and much will he liave to say at the last great day, when summoned to 

 testify concerning the deeds of men. Who would not now desire to 

 peep into that note-book to see those pencilings by the way, which 

 now have grown into huge folios ? Calm thy curiosity cliild of clay. 

 Look into thine own heart and thine own history and thou shalt learn 

 much. — Time is a revealer of secrets. We will not pry into our ncigh- 

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