The state rights democrat. [volume] (Albany, Linn County, Oregon) 1865-1900, 1873-02-21
FORTY YEARS AGo-NoW AND THEN }
OR THE
Old Mans Return TO the Home OF His
Youth.

Noutn.
I'VE are requested TO publish the following DO
teal cfrusion which Is the neatest thing In tn,
ray of real good, old fashioned, sentimental
oetry published in many day. The writer
fent from his Missouri residence on n visi
ack to his old Tennessee home and writes {,
lis friend and playmate of his boyhood day
that he saw and thought while wandering
through the old familiar haunts. The write
las large number OF relations In this county
ome OF whom have handed 1t In for publica
ion. IL will touch n tender and sresponsiv,
hord in the heart of many one whose hom,
5 not In "old Tennessee."-Ep.D DEMl
MARTIN RICE To wM SHARP.
Fnin would write to you. dear friend,
A letter frank and true;
I've lately been to our old home.
Away in Tennessee.
I've been TO the old place. dear Bill,
Where we In childhood dwelt;
But. oh! cannot tell you all
or what saw and felt.
walked the valley up and down;
crossedthe ridges DER;
And stood 50 oft where we have stood.
Upon the rivers shore.
oh! great have been the changes there.
Some spots scarce could know;
While Others seemed almost the same.
As forty years ngo.
came TO where your father dwelt,
When we were boys, dear Eli;
Towhere the old log house once stood.
Upon the sIopinE hill.
That old log house has gone long since.
know not where or how;
But down below .he spring there stands
a large brick mansion now.
They say your brother built It there,
But he has moved away;
And those you never saw, dear BilI.
Are living there to-day.
The trees which shaded that old house.
saw had fallen, too;
And scarce an apple tree was left.
Where once the orchard grew.
A little farther down the stream,
And near the public road,
The spot You we'll remember yet,
Where In youth abode.
Twas there my fathers cabin stood,
IN iLs > bEA-lI carry morn;
Twas there my infant years were passed.
Twas there that was born.
Long years have passed since ]. q youth.
Had wandered FAR away;
When in my age. came TO view
Scenes Of a by-Eone day.
The old log hous. was standing where
Ny father built it. still:
Your sister now is living there
Your sister. Mary Hill.
1 stood In that old house again.
As oit In youth I've done:
But there were none TO greet me there,
OF kindred, no. not one.
And those who knew me. when a boy
played barafooted there.
All failed 10 recognize the man.
So old. with silver hair.
Time. in its flight, had changed the place,
]. too. had changed. dear Eli:
But many spot to memory dear,
found remaining still.
The spring was flowing from the HI
As in the days o: yore:
But trees were growing round it, which
never saw before.
The old brick chimney stands there yet,
Two stories high, you know:
Its every Lrick moulded, Bill,
Full forty years ago.
But of the many men and boys.
Those boys With sunny brow.
Who toiled with the In making them,
Not one Is living now.
They all are dead, and in their graves.
One after one thcy'died:
Far, far apart, some OF them sleep,
And some lie side By side:
Two thousand miles and more away,
Some sleep in graves unknown,
While /, with locks now thin and gray,
Am let aIone-alonc,
Across the streamlet, on the hill,
Between Our homes. you know,
The little school-house stood. dear BilI,
good long while ago.
Twas there while little boys at school,
We learned our a &c,
And studied Webster's old blue book
Few other books had we.
Beside the rouGh-hewn writing bench.
How often side by side.
We sat and made out pot-hooks there.
And read John Giipin's ride.
But after twice ten tedious years."
And double that had fed:
Far, faster FAR, than Gilpln rode,
Back to the spot sped.
And there stood alone, dear Bill,
Upon the old play ground:
Not one OF all cur play mates dear.
Upon that spot were found.
saw them not beside the brook,
Nor on the cedar glade,
But some Of their grand children small,
Were playing where we played.
And thus it was, place after place,
visited, to find
That time had changed each sacred spot,
Deep in my memory shrined.
came to where my grandsire dwelt
In days and years long gone:
Hard by the old mill stream, you know,
Which still was flowing on.
The mill was standing where it stood,
The sound of grinding low.
Fell on my listening ear again.
AS forty years ago.
And the old house my grandsire built,
Long years ere was born,
Was standing as it stood long since.
But looking more forlorn.
How oft met my cousins dear.
AT grandma's house to play;
How often in the orchard there,
We passed our holiday.
But now those orchard trees are gone;
The old Catalpa, too;
And gone are all the pleasant shades,
Their leafy branches threw.
/ trod the gravel yard again,
viewed the landscape DER;
And many an object met my sight,
Which had seen before.
Upon the weather-beaten wall,
Though now somewhat decayed,
saw the many, many marks
Our arrow spikes had made.
Obi these were sad mementos, Bill,
OF long departed joys;
Twas sad to think how few are left,
OF those light hearted boys: