The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1878-04-17
WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL II, 1873.


is not to be found. Alderman Shan
non, &ho broke the deadlock in
.. the Brooklyn Board of Aldermen,
died on Wednesday; this leaves
them tied again, twelve Republi-
cans and twelve Democ1ats,-wlth
little prospect Of an inroad on
either camp till after the special
election. The cold snap Of Mon
day made US think that the North
Pole had broken loose-the tip Of
my nose at high noon registering
seven degrees below zero. An old
lady, the wife ola former millionaire,
died Of starvation in Brooklyn;
and another Wall Street defaulter
has carried grief to the presby ytery
Of one Of our most aristocratic and
orthodox churches.
BRoADBR1Ms FAREWELL.
And now the time has come when
am compelled to bid my friends,
what. I hope and trnst, may be but
a brief farewell. When these lines
meet your eyes, I shall be far out
on the deep blue sea, speeding away
to foreign lands and stranger
scenes, and leaving home with all
of it's loves and tender memories far,
far behind. The true journalist
seldom feels privileged to intrude
his personality on his readers
the individual being absorbed in the
journal which it is his pride and
his privilege to represent; but if
| ever such an indiscretion is par
donable, it is on an occasion like
the present, when he is about to
bid his friends and patrons good
bye.
| Notwithstanding all the bright
anticipations which the future con-
iures up, I do not go forth on this
Journey with the old-time spring
and the old.time hope, as I did
when life seemed to me like one
long unclouded summer day. Dark
shadows now lie across my path,
gloomy anticipations Cypress me,
and fears which may never be
realized are kept alive by the mem
cries of hopeless failures and dead
ambitions, the wrecks of which lie
scattered along the desolate shores
of the past.
| The main incentive to my under
taking is, firstly, a sense of the
duty and obligation which I owe
to the readers of those journals
who have followed me so patiently
and so long. The journalist who
stands still today is lost, the re-
morseIess tide of resistless pro.
gress sweeps oyer him, and he
sinks out of sight forever. He
who would keep up with the times
must know no ease; the demon Of
unrest sits perched upon every
newspaper press in the land, and
their apostles are reaching out on
every side asking what is there for
our hands to do. Il is not enough
that the press has become the pub
! lie censor, it must also be the men
tor and the guide. It stands to-
day for the bold crusading knight
and the inspired priest, like he who
of old marshaled millions to the
sepulchre of Christ. Philosophy,
science, politics, religion, art, are
| all embraced within it's wide do
main; and, as the dauntless cham
pion of..humanity, it stands between
the strong and the weak in every
land, fighting battles for which it
need look for no reward till the sill
yer cord is loosed and the golden
bowl is broken.
To belong, even in a humble ca
pacity, to such a representative
power I esteem an honor and a
privilege which no sacrifice of mine
can ever repay, and which I would
not exchange for any other pro-
fession on the face of the earth.
Besides, continuous and unremit-
ting labor, covering period OF
many years, has left me with broken
health and shattered constitution,
which refuse to yield to ordinary
aids. The ties that bound me here
!: are loosened, and one by one bright
faces, have gone out from my
hearth.stone, some of them fading
into the shadowy past, till at last
only one remains to remind me OF
the buried loves and withered
hopes which shall be mine on this