CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL
CONTENTS
INFLUENCES OF THE RAILWAY SYSTEM.
NEW APPLICATIONS OF MANGEL-WURZEL.
THE MARTYRDOM OF FAITHFUL IN VANITY FAIR.
CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNALCONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF 'CHAMBERS'SINFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,' 'CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE,' &c.
| No. 419. NEW SERIES. | SATURDAY, JANUARY 10, 1852. | PRICE 1½d. |
THE LOST AGES.
My friends, have you read Elia? If so, follow me, walking in theshadow of his mild presence, while I recount to you my vision of theLost Ages. I am neither single nor unblessed with offspring, yet,like Charles Lamb, I have had my 'dream-children.' Years have flownover me since I stood a bride at the altar. My eyes are dim andfailing, and my hairs are silver-white. My real children of fleshand blood have become substantial men and women, carving their ownfortunes, and catering for their own tastes in the matter of wivesand husbands, leaving their old mother, as nature ordereth, to thestillness and repose fitted for her years. Understand, this is notmeant to imply that the fosterer of their babyhood, the instructorof their childhood, the guide of their youth, is forsaken orneglected by those who have sprung up to maturity beneath her eye.No; I am blessed in my children. Living apart, I yet see them often;their joys, their cares are mine. Not a Sabbath dawns but it findsme in the midst of them; not a holiday or a festival of any kind isnoted in the calendar of their lives, but Grandmamma is the first tobe sent for. Still, of necessity, I pass much of my time alone; andold age is given to reverie quite as much as youth. I can remember atime—long, long ago—when in the twilight of a summer evening itwas a luxury to sit apart with closed eyes; and, heedless of thetalk that went on in the social circle from which I was withdrawn,indulge in all sorts of fanciful visions. Then my dream-people wereall full-grown men and women. I do not recollect that I ever thoughtabout children until I possessed some of my own. Those wakingvisions were very sweet—sweeter than the realities of life thatfollowed; but they were neithe