Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1874-01-09
Familiar Letter.

SPRINGFIELD, ILL, Dec. 30, 1878.
Dear Times Another year is waning,
paling, dying; another day and it will be
given in charge to the old sexton of de
parted years to be buried in the sad and
silent graveyard of the past 1t will bear
chronoioger, faithful to his trust, will
make it a page, in the great cycle book,
of important and interesting general facts
To individuals its memories will be as
varied as the changing forms of the kalei-
doscope; and for the sake of poor suffer
ing, toiling humanity 1 could wish that
the similitude would carry through and
be to each as pleasant and beautiful as
multifarious.
Christmas-the gay, hilarious day-has
passed away and been duly celebrated
here in divers ways. Young hearts espe-
cially have heen happy. The little ones,
with faith staunch and strong IN the
story of Santa Claus, rose with the earliest
dawn to seek the well-flled stocking
. empty, when they hung it beside the tire
place, but now full of the good and beau
tiful things provided by the kind old man
who came down the chimney the night be-
fore; and have bounded away with shouts
so joyous, hearts SO purely happy, that one
must feel that Christ's blessing is indeed
upon them.
Our happiness, old friend with silvery
locks, can only now be sympathetic, and
yet little sad While we may honor the
dav with deep and sacred reverence, and,
as we listen to the sweet carols of the Holy
Nativity, feel an all pervading and pleas
ant gratitude for that chief and browning
act of Gods loving kindness to his people.
Yet tear will unbidden start, through
which we may see away back in sunny life
the old, old Christmas days of long ago"
We remember our fathers Christmas gifts,
our dear mothers offering-the brother,
sister and the boys, who played with us
then-all, all are seen through this prism
tear, with the same old glad and radiant
faces We breathe the names of some we
loved so well, never so tenderly, never so
lovingly, yet no voice responsive comes.
For they have crossed the silent river,
And passed to that echoless shore;
The old, old tones of joy and love
Can greet US on earth no more.
But pardon this semi-sorrowful style; it
seems to be malapropos at this season,
and at variance with the role of profess
sional correspondent; nor does it comport
with the animus of the busy, busting
mass of individual humanity round about
me- A man is almost considered NUT
who suffers even the Eight of other days"
to betray him into the expression of sad
refrain.
''Let the dead past bury its dead.
Act, act in the living present;
Heart within, and God Ger head,
Is the motto now And so, if the transit
ton be easy, will now speak somewhat
of things as they occur in this pleasant
and progressive city of the West.
An old man, as merciless as the persona
fcation of Winter with his icy hand, has
been sojourning here tor sometime. He
has breathed his maledictions upon us and
touched us with his unrelenting finger,
and some have paled beneath his touch
He has checked the wheels of our previ-
ously successful watch factory and rolling
mill, and turned the operatives out in the
cold-has driven the railroad men from
their shovels and picks, and they too are
wanting bread. But mans humanity has
sprung to the rescue-soup houses are in
daily operation, and committees of men
and women are looking after the needy
ones of the city, and supplying their wants
for the time. The wind too seems to be
tempered to the shorn ones. Our winter
has been open and mild; and if the wea-
Their continues as fair, 'Les Miserabiles" may
take comfort if old Panic still continues to
place his gaunt figure before them.
The New Year is upon Us. May it dawn
upon your dear Times, and your many
readers, and my old friends of Charles,
with sweet and rosy benson, full of joy
Gus promise that may reach glad fulfil
ment day after day as time rolls on.
n B. Fl.