Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1861-01-04
Turning q New Leaf.

The year 1860 has been numbered with the
past, and 1861 ia ushsred in. This 10 time
TO make new resolutions-to turn new leaf
Lin order, if possible, to benefit BY the ex-
psrience Of the past. 1t is an appropriate
time, also, to reflect upon the mutability Of Ill
earthly things-to consider the ffailty Of
mankind, and to cherish for each other that |
atatsrnal regard which should ever character.
Ire the intercourse of man with his fellows. |
Al strifss, discussions, jsalousies, and i'll.
feelings Of the past should be buried with the
ed year.
"since tribes make the sum of human things,
And half our misery from our foiblss spring.; !
Since lies best joys consist In psacs and sass.
And few can save serve and all can please.
Oh, lot the ungentls spirit learn from hence,
small sskisd~ss i great efsWse."
As for ourself, we can truly say We bear no
snmity to any one. In our capacity Is .
Journalist, we have offended many-often
whom it was farthest from our thoughts to
give ofEsnse. Although 1t would be foolish to
contend that We have never made misstep,
since "to err Is human" still, we can say
honestly that we have not knowingly and
wlfully pursued the wrong. Our judgment
has no doubt been at fault in many things,
but our purpose has ever been Tie public good
We know Of no man whom we cannot take BY
the hand and call him brother.
We enter upon the duties of the New YEA
with determination to devote our energies
~ heretofore, to the good Of our patrons ane
Of the public generally. The past year hal
not been without its lessons of experience Il
M, by which we shall endeavor to profit.
Wishing all our readers A HAPPY NV
YEAR, we invite their attention to the following
beautiful lines, appropriate to tho season, b,
IN old writer:
"And winter With his aged locks, and breath
In mournful cadence, that come ABROAD
Like the far srind-harp's Wild and touching vail,
A melancholy dirge-o'er the dead year
0one-from the sarth-forever.
It's time
For memory, and tears. Within the deep,
still chambers of the heart spectre dim,
Whose tonss-are like the wizards voice OF Tina
Heard frcm the tomb Of ages, points it, cold
And solemn nnger-to the beautiful
And holy visions, that have passed away,
And left no shadow of their loveliness,l
On tho dead waste Of life. That spectre-lifts
The ofan.lid Of Hope, and Joy and Love,
Aud, bending, mournfuy, above the pale
Sweet forms, that slumber there, scatters dea
flowers
Ger what has passcd-to nsthingness. TIE yeo
Has gone, and, r1h it, many glorious throng
OF happy dreams. Its marks on each brow,
Its shadow-in each heart. In its swift course,
1t waved its sceptre Ger the beautiful
And they not. It laid its paid hand
Upon the strong man-and the naughty form
Is fallen, and the flashing eye-is dim,
1t trod the hall Of revelry, where thronged
The bright and jcyous-snd tho fearful vail
OF stricken ones-is heard, where erst the song,
And reckless shout-resounded. 1t passed DER
The battle plain, where sword, and spear and shie
Tlashed-in the light of mid-day-and the strenSt
Of serred hosts js shivered, and the grass
Green from the soil of carnage, waves above
The crushed, and Wondering skeleton. 1t came,
And faded, like a wreath Of mist at eve; *,
Yet, ere itsmelted in the viewless air,
It heralded its millious-to their homs-
~ ho1 ;po1 nd Of