The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1868-04-10
SATURDAY. ,Et1hF.

Under this caption "Brick Pomoroy,"
thus truthfully, eloquently and feeDingy
discourses
Once more the sun goes down into the
western ocean of time to usher in Sab
bath morning Again has the wheel of
the week rolled around, crushing the life
out of many strong man and loving wo-
man-the heart out of many a true love,
who alone, uncared for, and neglected, is
left to wander over the shoals and broken
rocks on times shore, to die broken-heart-
ed and with no loving hand to smooth the
hair and drive the death damp therefr5m
Saturday night Blessed night of all its
brethren. Priced night of all the week
loved corpse of all the six which have
been lain under the place of midnight
Night of respite from labor and commu-
Mon with the heart Night of repose for
the mind and the resuscitation of driven
energies, Who of our readers does not
thank God for this boon? And how will
it be spent? We can look into its hid.
den leaves and see, as in an album, full
many picture.
Happy firesides and home circles, where
sit the loved ones of mature years, caress-
ing each other with hearts full of added
love and toying with the innocent gifts
from God. How blessed is this night to
such, and how fervent should be the pray.
err of thanks for His mercies Aud there
are rooms where ovors sit lip to lip-hand
in hand-palm to palm-eye to eye
heart to heart-silently threading the lab
rynths of the weird future which alures
far more than it repays Aud there are
deserted homes-wives alone, weary vigils
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. mourning, for their
hearts lie on Southern fields of death
mansions where even love is gided-cot-
tages and cabins where affection lightens
up the hour as the MONDAY sun lights
Gods Temple-mothers praying for alb
sent children, and 10 fear lest those with
them will not honor mans high estate
children wild on the road to ruin-the
tempter and the tempted--the good and
the bad-the old and the young-even
forming a separate picture. Why, the
world is full of pictures.
Saturday night is an index. We can
look back on hours misspent-words we
would but cannot recall, vows we have
broken-hopes which have died as rose
leaves fall from your hands and float over
the Drinks of Niagara-promises we, have
made but to be broken-frlends we have
betrayed for nothing-kind acts we might
have done but did not-relef we might
have granted but for lfshness-happi.
ness We might have given but for a wick
ed heart. How the hood-gate of the week
opens on Saturday night Yet we learn
no wisdom from the past. The same old
story! alt might have been" Who
will fortify the coming week with new re-.
solves for good? We can all do it. 1t
will not be long ere the grave closes over
us--a few thin tears-a few sobs-a few
looks-a few sad thoughts few regrets
"a few shovels full of earth-a few feet
under the soda few days of sadness,
real or counterfeit, aud our souls are away
on the sea of eternity, and those who
know us now will kiss other lips-will
clasp other hands-wll read each others
eyes--will return each others embraces
will miugle their tears or wed their Joys
tegether-will love those they now wot not
of-will forget us forever. Do you ever
think of this-thiuk how thin earth aud
its allurements are Is it worth while
for us to hate each other for so brief
time ? Will the sheen of sel6shness
mellow the mould in which we must lie,
or whiten the marble which may per-
chance stand sentry over our bed for the
great sleep? Let us look back over life,
aud the time to do it is on this Saturday
night