Pioche daily record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1872-1876, 1876-07-19
STRAY THOUGHTS.

A bunch OF Autumn leaves, seen In a
friends Office yesterday awakened many
dimmed remembrance Of the past. Left
to the merciss Of the cratic mail, the
many colored stems did not arrive at
their destination till their bretheru of
this year were in fullest growth. Yet
they are beautiful. They turn back lif-'s
pages and recall thought TO the days Of
boyhood. They are pictures Of byeones
shining from past shadow in the desert
and glare Of to-day. Who does not re-
member when just such Autumn leaves
as these were in ripest beauty, when the
simple fact OF existence was worth the
best joys that life elsewhere could give"
The rene mbrance OF those days is like
thread upon which We have strung in
our wanderings the brightest jewel 80 four
hops. aspirations and fond recollections.
How simple leaf with Autumn's crimson
blush reflected on its smooth cheek, will
lead the mind back through the inter.
vening years. to the days when the silent
breath Of Autumn laid its rich lingering
warmth on the earth, and meadow, creek
and shady wood, lay smilinsls inviting
boy hoods footsteps. The soft blight Oc-
tober days, when the air that was still was
warm, and the air that moved was cool;
when the sense of freshness. Of freedom.
OF repose. filed the mind, and when
"sport that wrinkled care derdes.
And laughter holding both its sides"
was the order Of the day. When upon
the tin Of lofty trees had descended the
gay and varied colors of Autumn glintiDg
ia the sunlight with here and there q
sombre touch OF Summers green livery.
What pure unadulterated enjoyment it
used to be to lay laz,ly under spread
ing sugar-maple seeing but not noting
the soft cioud.shadows falling in patches
here and there. the outlines Of the bills
melting away into the distant horizon
| and over all the rrfuleent glory OF the
SAPPHIRE sky. Far to the south we're
| helds OF corn cut and stacked in glow
ing yellow heaps. in the brown meadows
with its still green underground, were
slender glistening weed stems carrying
flashes OF sparkles. like mirrors in mis-
chievous hands; the low CHEEKY chirp of
insects, the crystal line of gllttering web
floating by. and from the recesses of the
forest the echoing sound of the wood
pecker tapping upon the tree trunks.
Every one remembers the little shady
pool under the bridge just where the
creek crossed the road where he used to
90 fishing and how his little heart would
thump as be had nibbie aud at the
same moment heard the hollow tread Of
a horse sounding on the messy timbers
above his head. resounding with fearful
din below and soaring his fish away.
Looking back on those far.off peaceful
days, when nature in her fairest mood
spread out for youths choice her rarest
treasures-health and innocent enjoy
mrnt-when surrounded by oil that was
peaceful and beholding SO much that
was beautiful. it now seems Ikea distant
Arcadia. Those days had their mission
and played their prescribed part in our
lives. We all float away through earth 8
in6nity as wandering and as lost as the
clouds that in the bright Octobers long
ago melted, as do those memories, into
the illimitable azure of the past.