INTRODUCTORY. 13 



visions of our boyish enthusiasm. Tenant of the 

 ancient chair ! thou art before us, fixed thereto like 

 a carved allegory ; thy shrunken limbs swathed in 

 rinds of flannel to ward off the chilling frosts, with 

 which, from the hand of Time, old age is assailed ! 

 Vain precaution ! strengthless defence ! thou shiver- 

 est even at thy fireside ; the tale of thy heart is al- 

 most at a close ; its passions are over ; the pulse 

 throbs slowly away. Thy mind wanders, old man ! 

 Conning over the archives of its eventful history, 

 thou talkest like a dreamer. What connection have 

 these, disjointed thoughts with the business of to- 

 day ? They loiter far behind it, and are dark as 

 prophecy. Yet, in reverence to the tones of the 

 dying oracle, we listen, our own interpreter. Dote 

 not they to thy children's children, entering into 

 their hearts like counsel from a gravestone ? 



Our ancestor was beyond, in age, his garrulous 

 and whimsy clays his prate, the prate of four- 

 score, had ceased. He was a century old, and the 

 very wishes of humanity were cancelled from his 

 heart. All the obstinacy of a polemic temperament 

 lay subdued within him he had become like a 

 willow in the hand of nature. Had we placed him 

 in his coffin, he would scarcely have discovered it ; 

 but as yet, he looked more to advantage in the 

 old massive arm-chair; it suited him like a part of 

 his own wardrobe. The long, blue, silk dressing- 

 gown, contrasted well with its crimson velvet, 



