The Light of the Thoughts

The brave soldier had already numbered nearly or quite his threescore years and ten. He was pursuing the remainder of his earthly march, burdened with infirmities which even the martial music of his own spirit stirring recollections could do little towards lightening. The step was palsied now that had been foremost in the charge. It was only with the assistance of a servant, and by leaning his hand heavily on the iron balustrade, that he could slowly and painfully ascend the custom house steps.