The Caucasian. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1874-1875, 1874-12-12
For the Caucasian.
OUR PARSE.

It has been so frequently remark
ed as to become a trite saying in
this locality, that "whoever drinks
OF the waters Of Red River may
never quit it's shores, or should they
attempt to do so, will surely re-
turn" and truly it has been 80 often
verified, that the question natural
" arises, why, and wherefore is
such the case. That We, the native
born should love, and cling to it,
even while we take unto ourselves
the privilege Of finding fault with
our parish, our people and every
thing In it, is common phase of
human nature, but that her adopt.
ed children, should manifest such
undying affection for it, is "truth
stranger than felton," We met not
many weeks since, one of the tai
ented members of the Alexandria
bar, who has recently gone else
where to seek a 1'better fOrtune.n-
When the writer asked him, how
he liked his new home, he sighed
as he replied "pecuniar,ly, am
doing better, but my preference is
for Rapides, and as soon as make
enough l shall return" Thus un-
like the waters of Lethe which cast
the waves Of oblivion over the past,
our red, muddy stream neither
classic, nor picturesque preserving
still its winding course twiues
around the heart, and intones un-
ceasia ely the murmur of its swift
flowing current.
These reflections recall an episode
in our own career. Ere the cruel
hand of civil war laid it's deyasta.
ting touch npon us, erich in this
Worlds gear,' zee writers assume
the royal prerogatiye in using the
plural p1Onoun) determined to re-
allzc the dreams OF some years, and
visit the old world. We left our
home, not the least fair in Rapides,
with bounding hearts, and perhaps
some little contempt for the level
fields, and sluggish bayous of our
native spot, a little fearing too,
that after a visit to Europe we
might never again he contented ut
home. Our wanderings were very
pleasant, we rested on killarney's
bright waters, and learned it's le-
gendary lore, we trod the wild
scenery of the scottish Highlands,
and stood upon the spot where the
Lady of the Lake "puslled her light
shallop from the Shore" We gazed
upon the vine clad mountains, and
ivy clad ruins of Rhineland, We
sealed the dizzy heights Of the
grand old castle at Heidelberg, we
hoateA in graceful barks on the
beautiful Lake of Como, and gazed
entranced upon its picturesqnes
shores fringed by "orange groves
and whispering mirtles," we bathed
in the limpid waters Of the Lago
Maggione, and trod its blooming,
tairy-like Isolas, Bella, and Mas:re.
where lake, sky and mountain lent
their grandest and softest beauties,
to touch the heart, aud charm the
eye, and yet returned to our quiet
home in Louisiana, and telt that
though we had neither mountain,
nor lake, yet we had skies as blue,
sunsets as glorious, and a wealth Of
vegetation with it's perfumed roses,
sweet scented shrubs, evergreens
green grasses, and trailing MOSES.
which exceeded those of fair Italia
Truly it was then a land Of beau
ty, bit now alas! this fair and
smiling aspect is changed and DIES
olate. The roses have climbed and
withered and died, the latticed
bowers overrun with fragrant creep
ers have crumbled down. The
walks are grass-grown, noisome
weeds choke up the shrubs. The
ornamental trees are overgr0wn
and dead boughs, and broken limbs
show neglect, and that want Of care
which betokens that the spirit, and