Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1855-05-17
The Pictures of Memory.

At twilight hour, when the flowers close
their petals, and the birds cease their carols
when the stars peep forth, one bv one sprnk.
ling the heavens; when the noisy murmurs OF
the brook are Sc iiencd, and fell upon the ear
as distant music; tken the pictures ol memo
ry pass beipre Us as a panorama, and the hap
py or sorrowfui days of the past are again
present. At midnights silent hour, when
all is still. save pcrchance the distant hootiny
OF an owl in his ivy mantled tower, or the
wild strains Of the nightingale: when the
lakes clear breast is siivered by the brgh,
beams OF the queen of night; then we love to
roam through the halls OF memory and sean
again the pictures that hang par their walls
How varied are those pictures. Our happy
days of hope and pleasure, our sorrowfu ones
Of disappointment and Sadness are all mir
rored there. How vividly the mind remem.
bers its first grief; how clearly we can again
feel the last touch Of that dying mother and
hear again her last blessing; every moment,
of grief we have caused her is stamped with
an everlasting impress upon our hearts.
But the panorama rolls on, and bright days
return-our days of early friendships, when
together we traced the course OF the ripping
brook, gathered the inwe-s on its bar ks, or
at evening, gazing upon the starry heavens,
reared tall castles, whose foundations were
the clouds, and their battements fancy. Our
school days are not forgotten, as "golden
link in the chain of l(e," they now appear
to us--those hours so precious, Elected by too
quickly. and launched our barks mids, the
troubled waves Of lle's river, and now swiftly
the hurrying 9ilows carry US on to the rest
less ocean of eternity.
The old man looking pack, sees again the
loved forms of other years-walks through
his childhoods home, familiar faces smile up.
on him, bright eyes greet him, and voices,
thar thrill every cord of his heart, welcome
him. He drinks from the moss covered
bucket, and swings in II old grape vine
The hour of parting comes, and receiving his
fathers blessing, lis mothers kiss, heseeks
his home among strangers. Little thinks
be, It's the last time that fathers smae shal
greet him. But ere he returns, the death
angel entered that dwelling and snatched
uway its support. Oh, the changed house
hold, when death enters its portals. Then
pass before him happy days of love. The
moonlight wanderings, with "bhe eyed
mud, and sails in the sarlt lake: hen the
hour Of separation, when the earth closes
over his heart, and clouds darken the sky of
his life. But cid man, these pictures thou
shalt scan no mere, for seest thou MT e'en.
cow deaths relentless hand stretcled out
for thee In another world the brighter ones
shall still gladden. thy visions, but hs dark
ones shall haunt Thy dreams no more, Many
are the pictures which memory uniols for
me, bit thai one that seemest best Of all is
the form of my only brother The ,reen
grass grows Sver his little form, the volets
bloom above his golden head; his sivery oice
shall hear 10 more; yet oft in midight
hours, memory brings to me bright visas of
my angel brother. Oh, precious, aie the
pictures Of memory, thus bringing baskhe
loved ones; while the star OF hope pointsev-
er 10 the better land, for a full realizatio of
our dreams. From the contemplation of
these scenes, we may derive strength forhe
future ills of life. Then let us rather lpk
back through the long vista of the Past, tan
seek to penetrate the hidden arcana ofhe
Future.