The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1885-03-12
e Saturday night and another

Upon the dial plate of human
existence the shadows fall marking
the periods of duration, yet time,
measureless eternity, unconquered
and all conquering, moves majestical-
ly on, dropping in its swift course
the little periods that mark mans
opportunities; mans achievements
and mans earthly end. Philosophy,
science and revelations have sought
to enter the realms Beyond, but eter-
nifty vast and inconceivable, laughs
at mans puny efforts and SCOTS at
his vain attempts. Upon its realm
can none intrude, not sound can
break it's silence, not thought can
enter there. And thus as hour after
hour, day after day and week after
week, we read the scroll unrolled to
mortal gaze, we little heed that just
beyond lie the mysteries of moment
grander, perhaps, than the history of
O year. We can turn back and live
over the lessons we have learned,
read the stories of the years that
have passed, but the next page is
sealed, and finite wisdom pauses and
is dumb. Man weighs the earth, in
vades it's land and conquers it's seas;
reads it's rocks and tells the school
boy its tale of six thousand years
He circumnavigates the earth with
the turn of a globe, spreads the
heavens out upon plain and places
| his finger upon the stars. He knows
the story of the sun, the course OF
worlds, and the paths of comets, and
yet knows not the hidden mysteries
| of the next moment. We can not
ask, we would not know what there
is in the next week to come. But in
the week that is gone lies portion
of our life, a bit of the worlds his.
tory. On the pages of the past week
we all have written another chapter
il the history of our lives that go to
swell the volume of human expert
ence which has made the history Of
nations, the great records of the
world.
The flower that grew by your door
way smiled and died. The vine thai
! climbed up the wall, bloomed anC
fell. The birds that caroled their un
taught lays have flown. The play
3 ground where once you sported il
now the cemetery of buried joys
The brooks by which you gambolec
r have flown dry Days that once wer
yours, belong now to the past; ye
: from them all comes CLEAN of light
Memory brings them forth and thei
crowns and crosses are born anew
9 The shadows are lifted and familia
7 scenes rise to greet you. You gathe
up the ponderous tome of memor
and wander down upon the beach o
, time, where the waves of the pas
: lave the sands at your feet, and 20
: read again the tale of years. Til
: flower blooms again by your dool
It the vine climbs up the wall, happ
n voices make musical your playin
q ground, the laughing brooks spark
h in the sunlight, the past gives bac
its days, and you live your life again
=. You select its joys, and leave its so
rows at rest beneath the cypress an
the willow. The olive branch is lai
h beside the ak, and the purple is Ell
twined with the Grape. The marb.
is enwreathed with laurel and eac
h cross bears a crown; and the echoe
of the waves that wash the shores {
- life murmer forth a harmony burdel
v ed with the happy refrains of ioyor
days.
h After all, the sweetest moments I
life are those that come back to us
the crowded halls of memory, shol
of their sorrows and grief, bearin
e only the purest joys and happie
OF scenes that gave them life and wo'