Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1880-12-24
EDITORIAL CORRESPONDENCE.
THE OLD ARM CHAIR.

snOW now ready Ills mlnd was, now instant
in activity and how suddenly it would fash
with an eloquence superior to that exhibited
by the most elaborate preparation.
He was arguing cause before the Supreme
Court Of the United States, and laid down,
as the basis of his argument, principle to
which he desired to call the particular atten-
ton of the judges. The opposing counsel
interrupted him, calling for the authority sus-
tanning his principle, "The book, the book"
demanded his adversary. "Sir, and your hon
ors," said Writ, Strengthening himself up to
his full height, 81 am not bound to grope
my way among the ruins Of antiquity to
stumble over obsolete statutes, or delve in
black letter law in search of principle writ
ten in living letters upon the heart of every
man." So we hope we will not be asked
for our authority when we assert, there is
no principle of the human heart more deep
ly planted or more difficult to eradicate than
that of local attachments.
But whilst this principle of local attach
ment may be said to be universal, existing
hilhC Ill llulllOuo vi uCul biltIC dIO bOillC
over whom the memories of the past float
like music over stoic's heart, they are as
barren as the rocks upon which winters
winds or summers sun have played for cen
turtles without leaving any impression; we
thank God we are not among that number
for of him upon whom the past has lost all
control and memory, that rudder by which
most men steer their course, is thrown aside,
he is, indeed, but a stray leaf floating down
the stream of life, the veriest paything of
the winds and the waves.
We believe it was Daniel Webster who
was born in log cabin and raised among
the snow-drifts of New Hampshire. Years
after when his immortal eloquence and
craftsmanship had made him a nations
idol, when upon one of the occasions of his
annual visit to the remains Of his rural
home, exclaimed, 81 love to dwell on the
tender recollections, the kindred ties, the
early affections and variations and Incl
dents which mingle with all know of this
primitive family abode, and weep to think
that none who then inhabited it are now
among the living" How truly beautiful and
how full offender meaning. And as we pen
these idle thoughts from the "old arm chair"
one of the sweetess pictures that chang on
memory's wall" flor we are still in the coun-
try,) in front of the old quiet fireplace, the
great logs blazing upon the hearth, the house
dog sleeping in the corner and the cat nest
ling confdingly between his feet, we can
but exclaim, Oh, the days of old Oh, Time,
Time, what wrecks lie scattered in thy path
way How many the changes since we were
young, how many that were dear that have
dropped into the grave, how many that stole
away in their youth, how many have drifted
away on the current of life and are lost in
the mist and shadows of time All, well !
it is best that it should be SO. 1t is best that
the world should move on, there should be
no pause, no hating in the great march of
life. What are we that the earth should
stand still or pause to contemplate our tears
Philosophy may analyze tear, but it cannot
cure hope or it cannot bid it exhale. 1t
may ludhO q opCObiui Dub IL llilhO q
smile
In one of our many rambles during the
past week we passed spot that has always
been a favorite place with us-it was where
the early buildings of our intellect were
watered and trained by the grim visaged
old school master" The old log house had
gone to ruin and decay and nothing but
rude pile of stones remained to tell of the
were the days then and sunny are the
memories Of them, the tides of life broke
Silly on those morning shores and the
golden days rippled by with a gliding tread
that was half rest, half dream.
In this same old house the celebrated Will
liam Writ, to whom we have referred in the
first part of our letter, taught singing school
when quite young man, and the early pi-
oneers of Methodism were accustomed to
preach once or twice a month. In its place,
if not more artistic and modern, at least,
more substantial structure has been built
Hard by, in the midst of venerable cluster
of forest trees that have escaped untouched
by the axe of the woodman, a plain but neat
little chapel has been erected. Apart from
its romantic seclusion and its sacred silence,
it is seldom disturbed save by the solemn
prayer of devotion or the music of the birds
that come to MARBLE their earliest notes. We
have often fingered at this consecrated spot
and meditated upon the solemn events which
have there transpired. How we have re-
called the lineaments of the faithful minis
tar and that humble and unpretending flock
who never failed to meet him. How many
times from the plain little pulpit have the
unsearchable> riches of Gods undying love
been proclaimed, and the hayward and
thoughtless aroused to their sin and their
estrangcment from God.
Different portions ofthe neatly enclosed
ground are billowed with graves, each with
its own story. There are Ito marble slabs
there, save two, which were erected as early
as 1893, to the memory of Rev. DR.. Hunt
and wife but the little paths that lead in
every direction tel too plainly that there
are some who have not forgotten the dead
II has often been our lot TO sit beneath tAe
dome of some lofty cathedral or magnificent
church, where elegance meets the eye and
fills the mind with admiration, and the peal.
ing notes of the deep-toned organ seemed
borrowed from angels harps, and yet amid
this splendor, as the notes died away and
the smoke of the incense lost itself among
the vaulted roof, our mind would wander to
this quiet little graveyard, that boosted of
no worldly pomp or show
What Il snow-storm we are having, and
how We have enjoyed it from the win.
dow, seated In the "old arm chair" Is it
not glorious sight, the whole earth clad in
such a spotless robe, covering It's dark places,
its unsightly pools and its more hideous fea.
a..