Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-01-01

Address to the Patrons Of the Kennebec
Journal, January 1, 1875. .

The good that cometh to US here,
Upon US let his blessing fall
| To-day, and through the whole New Year.
For kicked the bucket. played out the play
Passed in his checks, and gone the way
Of all the earth, that Is to say,
Gone and died as dead as hay
Has Eighteen Hundred and Seventy Five.
Poor old year May the good saints sbrire
His soul from every stain OF SIN.
| And give him abundant entrance in
To the heaven Of all the old years gone
From life, since Ammo Domini, One!
And when they shall come to balance the books,
And settle the accounts of the dead old year,
May they find, let us hope, that surplus of good
Ger all of the evil and sin will appear
Tis true the old fellow did manage some how
How nobody knows-to suddenly knock,
In very unpretty sort of a way,
The props from under E. r. H. stock;
But mayhap the consequent fall may unloosc
The grasp of E. r. on the throat of NJ. C.,
And the said Z. r. learn that It's better for all
To keep to the mayim, "be and let be-"
Tis true. again, that he managed to bring
Financial troubles and failures around,
And times have been hard, and bus mess dull,
And the "tramps" called runners" have hafdlv
Their ways all pleasant and full Of peace,
And all have had to retrench to keep
Expenses down, even women, poor souls,
f1AVe nau 10 retrencQ tne VOlunluOuS sweep
OF their skirts in fearful and wonderful way
A proof indeed,
Of the pressing need
OF "contraction's" being the rule Of the day.
And all have grumbled and growled at the times /;
But yet the old year had . level head
And knew his biz, let rs make no doubt
So let us not scold at him now he Is dead.
That he squelched that aborted democracy S
brat
Which pig headed demagogues, clothing in rags,
And crowning with Fog Horn Bill Aliens old
hat,
Sc, up to be worshipped, the God of a new
And better financial gospel on earth,-
! A gospel whose cardinal principle ran,
"The cheaper the money, the more it is worth"
And score him one that the "Tidal Wave"
Which burst through the dikes of seventy four,
And swept DER the land with o terrible rage,
And strewed with Republican wrecks, the shore
And bore on its crest into life again
Uptorn from the rocks where they stranded lay,
The rotting hulks of Bourbon and Reb',-
In its wild career he managed TO stay,
And, better yet,
He made it set
In its flow in quite the opposite way;
So that ere long
Twill sweep the throng
OF Bouborn hulks to sea again
To sink and rot,
And be forgot
Forever by all rlght thinking men.
And score him one that that fearsome shape
That horrible, elfsh. goblnish sprite-
That bugaboo of terrible mein-
Which made the Herald shiver with fright,
And made the Tribune quake and shake.
And the voice of the Sun to stick in its throat
And the World to shudder with awful fear
And the Argus groan like dying shoat,
And the little Commercial fellow bray,
And the Standards "gadfy" Il bly, dronc,
And the whole caboodle of minor ours
In comical terror yelp as one
The Third Term Scare, he has laid to rest
Dumped into its grave and cemented down
As they did poor Gubord over the line
So hardly to rise when the last trump's blown.
And yet so terrible the fright
OF these monomaniacs that they seem
Still terrified by the senseless ghost
OF their own distempered senseless dream
But poor dead year If the years have souls
That in the the Hereafter remember the Here
Some troublesome memories haunting his soul
The ghosts of his life-will sometimes APPEAR
OF men, standing fair in the eyes of the world
Besmeared with the vehom from vile tongues
hurled;
OF parisans, swollen with venom and hate,
Defling the fame Of the good and the great;
OF men, grown thieves through the lust and greed
or gain, made vagabonds like Boss Tweed;
or dead maidens welterine, mangled, in blood,
And little ones slain in the temples OF God -
Of every kind of sin and crime,
That STAIN and blot The annals OF tmc,
From the little sins that have no name
To crimes that put the devil to shame
For man is weak when he stands alone
And leans on no higher strength than his own;
And sin seems sweet,
When it comes to meet
The soul as the first Sin came to Eve;
And our modern life
With sins is rife
That the very elect oft-tlmes deceive!
But the good God rules, and he maketh all
The deeds of men to work his will;
And we trust that all the sin and crime
That have cursed the year, will yet fulfill
Some purpose wise in the infinite plan
That he builds from the years and the deed. of
men!
All well old year, we deeply regret
That we cannot truthfully say of you gone,
In the classical words Of Josh Billings, the wise,
"NihH nortuis bonuR nOn,"-
Which means, ellis life was hunky one"
But yet, old year, as we say goodbye,
We hope you are gone where the good years CO.
Where the fires don't burn with too fierce glow,
And the cinders and ashes won't blow in your eve |!
Farewell, old fellow Good bye good bye
III.
A child stands on pebbly shore
And seaward gazes earnestly.
Around him lies the light of morn.
Before him rolls the boundless sea.
With shaded eyes he gazes out
And sees against the horizons rim,
White spectres of incoming sails
Stand shadow-lke in outlines dim.
He hears the whispers of the waves
Inswirling on the pebbly shore,
He hears afar the voice of tides
That round the breakers rush and roar.
But swirl of wave, and roar of tide,
Are inartculate to him.
And spectral glimpse of shadowy sail,
Within the horizons distant rim,
Can tell no tale Of all the world
Beyond it lying full of life
| Its joys and sorrows, hopes and fears,
Its loves and hates, its peace and strife
So stands the New Year gazing out
Intent athwart the days to be,
And sees dim promises Of things
| To come, like sails far out at sea;
And hears soft whispers, as Of waves,
| OF fair events swift swirlng in,
| And hoarser threats, like breakers roar,
! OF scenes of strife and deeds of sin.
But vain to question him; his lips