Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1877-04-06
TREASURES OF MEMORY.


Memory says Basile, lis the cab
met of the Imagination, the treasury Of
reason. the registry of conscience, and
the council-chaniber of thought" It is
the golden link which chains our days
together the bosom-spring Of Joy, and
the only paradise out of which we can
not be driven away. Without it, the
leeting ideas of the ever present would
leave no impression, and the soul would
become darkened void. It tempers
prosperity, aleviates adversely, inspires
youth and delights old age.
Memory has also been compared to
vast, but unlimited storc-house, where
in the mind preserves its treasures aud
monuments. How sweet the thought l.
large store-house full Of harvestings on
whose contents we may ever feed when
present pasture fails.
Memory, therefore, CLEANS. But, as
a book which remains long time shut
up in dust, itnceds to be opened OCCASION
ally, that its contents may be clear
and bright, and ready in time Of need .
When the magic doors of this great
store-house swing open, what sweet per-
fumes of the summers that are gone
steal gently toward us Flowers faded
and dim joys long since fled spring up
and seem alive again.
'---~Forgottsn things long cast behind,
Rush forward in the brain and come to mind"
| Old affections, as 1t were, rush back
upon us as vivid as when their presence
first gladdened our eyes, and their &C.
cents first thrilled our cars. Fond i'm
ages which have long slept in our hearts
are awakened by n word. The spirit Of
some bright hour may stalk from its tomb,
and startle us with its presence Some
dear associations may have revivified all
these enough, after their long oblivion
to make them flash into consciousness
again. A scent, u sound, note of nu-
sic, the whispering Of the summer wind,
a voice, touch oft startles us with
revival of long forgotten thoughts and
feelings, and gil us with thrill that
haunts us for years, like some wild mel
ody. For. memory always obeys tie
dictates of'the heart.
"a pen TO register key to winds
through secret wards, says Wordsworth,
''are well assigned to memory Surely
that heart were of strange mould which
has embamed no cherished thoughts, nor
feels no gentle sadness where glimpse is
had of former joys
Who remembers not the tender associ-
alton Of childhood kind mother who
taught US our first little prayer, and
watched with anxious heart our sluni-
bers the ground our little feet first trod
tho playground, school, and church;
the good old books that taught us Of
liberty and LIE the dear, rwset songs
that thrilled our youthful hearts our
days of hope and joy--our life, our love
All these are the very first objects
which nature tells us to cherish. They
live in memory, become part of our very
souls, and are eternal.
Thus memory. strict warden Of the
mind, keeps fond watch over bor jewels,
distinguishing between the pebbles and
pearls. Her treasures are the music of
the soul. The rich notes of their nlolo-
dy float down the echoipg corridors of
time with sweet and inspiring cadcuce. -
Though the echoes die on the air, they
live within the soul As time steals
softly away their memory ripens, and re-
membrance wakes choir of song which
! shall sing for evermore.
II Oh, blost, then, be the memory that il
outlivos present realities The present is
in perpetual motion leaving us as soon as
it arrives--and is only known to have ex-
isted by tho effects which it leaves be-
hind but the soul, weaving its threads
Of thought in the human mind, becomes
connected with the fabric there woven,
and receives the indcliblo impression
thereof; and, as this mysterious spirit
inhabiting our freshly tabernacle exists
forever, 50 then, just as its impressible
nature, is now acted upon, must it re-
main when it wings its fight toward
heaven Ay, memory, OUTLYING pres-
ent realities, will cen be there, and fol-
low us with her soul-treasnrcs through
out the boundless realms Of eternity.