The Kentucky Gazette

MONITOR.

Sixty years hence, few, very few, who are now twenty years of age will be found!—What a melancholy truth!—'tis a truth it is—a stubborn fact!—and what is still more melancholy, many, very many of the lively actors on the stage of life at the present day, shall make their exit long ere sixty years have rolled away.—Sixty years! Could we be sure of sixty years, what are they?—I take it is told—I dream—in empty sound, that passeth on the wings of the wind away, and is forgotten. Years shorten as a man advanceth in age:—Like the degrees in longitude, man's life decreaseth as we travel towards the frozen pole, until it dwindles into a point, and vanisheth forever. Is it so short that life is of so short duration?—Will sixty years destroy all the names of the living, in the cities and towns of this flourishing country, and place new ones in their stead? Will all the blooming beauties, who now appear no more than mortal, fade and disappear in sixty years? Can it be the fate of the bucks and beaus, who now flaunt with finest flower on their heads, in sixty years to be powdered with dust and ashes?—Alas! it can, and most assuredly will be so—"Sixty years!" says Death, grinning a ghastly smile, "do you think I am going to starve sixty years? Not I! This very day before the sun reaches the margin of the west, thousands of belles and beaus, besides numerous old men and babes, shall be sacrificed to feed, not to fill my ever empty maw."