The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1872-07-12
EDITORIAL CORRESPONDENCE.
COUNCIL BLUFFS, Iowa,
June %, 1872.

tusAt EttllN cduuOb ItlllellDef Mileu or
upon what subject last addressed you.
Since leaving Springfield, ILL.,, 1 have
been visiting and lecturlng within the
sacred circle of dear childhood associa-
tions, with my mind in such whirl of
olden memories and present realities as
to totally unfit me for newspaper du-
ties.
Have held large, pleasant and well
appreciated meetings in Atlanta, Dele
van, Hopedale, fremont and Grove
land, Illinois. On the last evening of
my sojourn in my native State, large
company of old time associates assem-
bled at the dear old homestead, where /
had the melancholy pleasure of address,
ing them in the grand old rambling
farm house, where once our fathers
voice and mothers song made melody;
where once our aged grandparents on
both sides of the genealogic tree, with
dear old Granny" the great grand
mother of long line of descendants,
kept ward and watch over turbulent,
impetuous and oftentimes rebellious
Young America where once grand
fathers 'tChat" and "Choaten and rip
toes'-the dear old man was an illus
trious nick-namer-tripped over the
clover-dotted sward, and sometimes
danced barefoot TO the tune of stinging
bumblebees' song-of one of which l
have lively recollections TO this day
where "Ring," the mastifi, with whom
we children were brought up, and whose
teeth were all worn out long before we
mourned his last long sleep, and
"Watch," the noble pie-bald cur, who
followed us to Peoria OH the morning of
twenty years ago, when our oxen and
wagons We're Westward bound, and who
refused for weeks afterward to be COM
forted by our desolate grandfather be-
cause we were not; within the moOnlit
shades Of old time apple trees, upon
which the winter blasts of half n cen
tury have beaten in vain; under the
protecting branches of the Old Elm
Tree, whose majesty has made the Pleas
ant Grove Farm notorious for radius
of many miles, as well as through the
mazes Of the large cities that flourish
near its borders; where once the merry
laugh of childhood and the fond lovers
sigh resounded; and where now live
new loves and new associations of other
families who yet keep bright and vigor-
1.
striking landmarks of the days of Aud
Lang Syne, i'm respectful remembrance
of the occupants of by-gone era, for
which in my heart of hearts l reverent-
ly thank them. Therei / must make q
period and catch breath. We had in
tended to hold the farewell meeting un-
der the Old Elm Tree on the lawn, but a
light shower came up a while before
sundown, which not only caused us to
repair to the house, but prevented a
large number of the friends from COM
ing. As it was about two hundred were
present, and such a meeting! The beaux
of the olden time, among them
a. bonny lad called my lover,
A bOnny lad who loved no other
No other lass but me-
came-oh, shades of romance how
shall tell the story?-with hand
some, well-kept wife at his side and
bonny lads and lassies almost al infiIl-
itiH1. Men and women, boon compan-
ions of my parents in the golden long
ago, whom / remembered with plump
faces, beaming eyes and youthful mein,
grasped with wrinkled hands my trem-
bling fingers, and as looked into their
faded eyes and noted the ravages OF
hoary Time upon their struggling locks,
the laugh with which / greeted them
sounded hollow to my senses, and the
memory of departed joys swept over me
in torrent of unutterable retrospection.
IL was midnight before the last dear,
), well-remembered guest was gone, and |
repaired to a large, square chamber,
which was used as a parlor when we
girls were young, and sitting down upon
the floor beside the open window, ]
watched the limpid moonbeams Of the
long ago as they played upon the famil-
lar branches of the signing trees; and
while to my tangible senses came no
sound of dear ones voices, memory at
tuned itself TO melody and l said, hall
audibly:
"When at eve sit alone,
Thinking Of the past and gone,
While the clock, with drOwSy nngcr,
Marks how slow the minutes llnger,
And the cmbers, dimiy burning,
= Tell OF life TO dust returning,
Then my lonely seat around.