The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1867-01-23
NJ. n. fosaAeroy.


MctiREGOR, JAN. %, 1867.
NJ. II. FoMeroy.
This energetic young man is the editor
Of the La Crosse Daily Dcwocyat. He 10
known to the people Of tho United States
rs "Brick." He is most bitter oppo.
ncnt, warm friend, m able and witty
writer and the best Of company. Many
things he writes we do not approve, but
differences of opinion do not rust the chain
Of friendship between us, and we trust
they nevcr will. Brick" for q long time,
has written Saturday Night" article
for his paper. These articles are all we'll
done, but we think the one which follows
this introductory notice is gem that is
not excclled by the finest pen-painters ia
literature.
It is very cold Tho frost work on the
window is thick and chilly, and in all the
tracing of winter as it holds its rcvel with
out our sanctum, there is not one bit OF
beauty to night. At least it seems so to
the one whose brain aches with tho labors
Of tho week, and whose heart refuses to
feel light and joyous as is its wont. We
look at the sketches made by Zero, the
diamond artist, and they look not rs they
do. sometimes! We havc watched the fire
many an hour and oft to see in tho Goals,
birds, and faces, and forests, and loved
ones lost, and loved ones absent, and loved
ones dear, and fairy groves, and bowers,
and trysting places, and happy scenes that
seemed duplicated there--and we have seen
on the window of our sanctum, towns cities,
fields, Islands. oceans, ships ut sea, angels,
anH fancy laces, and net work of diamonds
all beautiful, hut tonight they fail to
Come at our bidding. We call the fairies
we once knew, but they have gone tonight.
Since last we wrote our Saturday Night,
e1e week, one hundred and sixty-eiSht
little hours have come and gone. Of these
We have labored one hundred and nineteen,
and tonight we are weary, glad indeed
that the hour for quiet has come, and that
we can let the pen rest awhile.
You know there are times when the
clouds hang very low, and the heart is tired,
weary, longing. They come upon all OF
us.s They come to the deepest hearts. -haa
kind words, soft. han.ia, l.vfng smiles, trust
-:-.g connuehce, hallowed rest and the love
of which strengthens rs it grove will lit
them from tho sky Of life and we can
breathe free again. Did you ever look for
letter which would never come? Did
YOU ever write and receive no answer P
Did you ever look for prize and draw q
bitter blank? Did you ever open a letter
directed in well-known hand, to find in
it nothing, or that which was not looked
for? Did you ever open a casket which
was long a coming and find in it pretty
things for another when you thought they
were for you? And how much there is Of
all this in life. How few Of as can say We
never drew blanks. But for all this, there
comes ray of light to each of us. The
Saturday nights are the changes--the step
ping stones in the wonderful river. We
cannot linger on them as we hasten to reach
the bank which lines the land of the leal.
We cannot stay here long-few of us care
to, when every stepping-stone passed les
sens the ones between US and the rest
eternal.
As we look back over these lodges by
the way let us see how many are carpeted
with kind words. And as we journey on,
let us drop the ugly words into the deep
drop them long before we reach the shore,
and leave gentle sentences and pleasant
memories behind us, to rest the feet and
still the football of those who must walk
with or behind US over the rugged way.
Kind words cost nothing. And do you
know they come to us on every wind !; by
every mail, at all hours. COB knows we
hold them sacred for they are the brightest
jewels in the crown Of life; the ones
which never tarnish the roses which new.
cr lose their fragrance the rainbow,
a'sM.is sss aevsr fade the springs which keeE
against, the gentle walls Of life, strife, toll
and toiling labor.
Man OF heart-man of homc--woman
Of love-angel of ideas, and home ones,
friends oil, and everywhere, be not sparine
Of kind words. They, cost nothing, they
live forever. They come to us in the dead
hour of night. They come on the wings
Of love as we kneel in prayer. They come
TO us in dreams, and they linger sacredly
by the bedside of those who suffer. They
light our way to the tomb they throw Out
the ugly darkness from the grave they
bloom and blossom from our cold bed, long
and long after we are sleeping there to live
over again and again in the hearts oil
those who love US and are dearer than
words.
Working man, use kind words, always
Think before you speak. When you ge
Aome speak kindly. The patient wife need.
your kind words, for no tonic gives such
Atreng th--no clothing gives such warmth
If yon have not the means to beautify
year homes, carpet your heart and hang
pictures on your soul by using words o.
kindness to your home ones. These night.
are passing away. twill not be long be
fore our last article will have heen written
b.fore your last work shall have ended, and
in all the earnestness of outspoken man.
hood and friendship, we ask you to use
kind words continually. Use them to her;
use them to them use them to him use
them as if you preferred them, not only
this, but every day, and every 'aturda,
Night.
Reelection OF Trambull.
The reelection Of Mr.. Trumbull, of II.
linois. to the Senate disconcerts the radi.
calls Of Congress as much as the failure Of
Stevens in Pennsylvania. An immense eff
fDrt was made to defeat the Senator, and
on the day of election the Chicago Repub.
i'nn came out with twenty reasons why he
.l,k 80 - L. - II