midnight
To The Reader . And now , courteous reader , perchance thou art weary with thy wanderings , and the flowers we have gathered may appear withered to thee , and devoid of beauty or fragrance , and the peep into memory 's inner chambers may not have afforded thee the pleasure that I have derived from the survey . If so , farewell , I will intrude no more upon thy time or patience . The curtain has fallen , the dim , misty curtain , and memory has turned her golden key , closed her portfolio , and sat down with folded hands , to brood over her hoarded treasures , placing each in its proper place , to be brought forward again at her mandate , to beguile , perchance , other weary midnight hours with their magic spell . The past can not be redeemed , and the future is hid in uncertainty ; but the present , the golden present is ours , and while our little bark is floating upon the stream of time , let us improve the precious moments as they fly , and spend them in a cultivation of the best affections of the human mind . The mind , that boundless ocean of human thought that is placed within each individual , stretching on throughout the ceaseless ages of eternity . But there must come a solemn time to all who live .