My Sixty Years

As to-day is the 60th birthday of the Proprietor of the Courier the publication of the following s tan zas from Demorest's Monthlv seem not to be inappropriate: My sixty years ! My slxty years! Shall I look back wi tti Joy or tears Across llfe's track, at duties done. At battles lost and victorie won ? At hopes tlmt blossomed but to fade ; Or, at the fruit that now appears, Of seed well-sown, In slxty years; My slxty year! My slxty years ! What Hghts and shadows, hope and fears, Whatgllmpse of the g'.od and true, What frlendshlps all the Journey through. What mercles have around me shone, What honest hands have claiped my own, Slnce that eventful time, below ; My birthday, slxty years ago ! The man who Iets the ilays pass by I 'mm youth to late malurlty, In carelessness of acts and deeds, Unmlndful of hls nature's need, When opportunlty has gone, And stlll the days are passing on, Wlll never know.as even Ing nears, What may be done In slxty year. My slxty years I My slxty years I The western horizon now oleara, And I can see wlth calmer eye The hand that leads me toward the skies ; And Ustenlng, I can Irarn to-day, A stlll smal) volee, that seems to say : "Wbat man hath sown hereaps, alone; In slxty years, what have you sown 1"