The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1880-01-01
THE NEW YEAR.

Scdl Juot l'ao1, uoo oioo6ht ITO N"o'"
of sweet and bitter, and to all it has
added to tho stock OF experience,
and we hope that the year we begin
to day will bring to each household
in the commonwealth some welcome
gift, which, in after days, will serve
as IA pleasant remembrance of the
year upon which we are now enter
ing.
Dickens says, that this is the sea-
son of Fancy, and, perhaps, he was
right, for as we sit alone with our
thoughts, involuntarily they go wan
deriug off iutO that vague, misty
dreamland of the future, their busy
shuttle weaving a ribbon of golden
colors, in which there appears no
shading of warp or wool, no sombre
skein of sorrow, no thread of care,
bnt as they reach farther and farther
from us, seem to catch a SUMNER
sheen, until blended with the round
ed year, they leave the circle jewell
clasped, bright, beautiful and spark
ling. All! Fancy, could your fragile
sails unrended ride the storm Of Cir
cumstance, how blitLe would most
lives be. Few do not send their lit
tie barks FROM port, no matter how
the darkening clouds may lower, or
nearing tempest threaten; no matter
If the waves are dashed TO foam, or
wrecker's leer bid prudence hold the
mOoriugs. Tis all the same. Their
gilt-edged logbook has no page for
ought but jottings OF those sunny
isles that stud fhe sea of promise,
their gauzy sails will catch no breeze
save those of perfumed zephyrs,
and as the bark glides smoothly DER
the pulseless waters, the Tyres OF
gold will strike no cord of sorrow,
no narrowing note Of pain, but tun-
ing to the softer lays of hope and
love, will rival sirens song and
blend their music with the harmony
of Oceans cadence. Out from the
ship the white winged messengers
are sent, that swift-returning, bear
the floral tokens of a land bedecked
in many beateous hue, to which
the helmsman steers, and cen the
needle turns from Polar SHOWS, for
getful of its Office. There are no dead
reckonings to be noted down, no
record OF the course is asked, and
in the health book, where the black
ened edge would tell tale of tears,
the page is blank. Those sable clouds
that stretched athwart the face of
smiling skies, when first the anchor
weighed, have vanished now, and
through the gossamer veil there
CLEANS the covenant of eternal calm
"a promise sure of haven near and
anchorage strong and certain. Who
has not sent his thoughts
Like ships that sailed for sunny isles,
But never came to shore?"
Each newborn year starts forth
it's little fleet "with all her bravery
on and tackle trim, sails filled and
streamers waving" but, ali how
soon its wild careering strews the
strand with hopeless wrecks that
tell of seas too rough for those frail
shells, of waves that sported for a
while in play, then dashed them
back in fury to the shore, unmindful
Of the hopes they crushed-heedless
alike of ship or cargo. AS days and
months go on, for Time stays not to
touch with kindly hand, or shade
with sorrowing brow, those pictures
which we fain would hang in mem.
ory's cloister where we might visit
them in secret, unsneered at by the
world, the tide bears from the beach
the ruins scattered there, and every
vestige of the cherished dreams that
peopled many an hour of solitude
with forms of heavenly likeness
| fades ont from view and laavaa fb 4