The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1889-03-30
lFor the SENTINEL
RANDOE
OUR PROMENADE.

We have no beautiful public parks,
no splendid bollevards. 10 shady SUI
burban roads with guigt;ng brooks
and fowery hooks to tempt one to
brisk morning walks or afternoon
strolls. Our promenade is confined to
a most excellent sidewalk, with houses
and front yards on one side and the
Ievee OH the other. Or, if the pedes-
trian S o chooses. he can mount the le-
wee and pursue its rather rough path
way, thus obtaining a far more exten-
sive and pleasing view of the surround
ing objects. The banquet, however.
seems generally preferred by those out
for IA constitutional" IL visit to the
church below, or Il lovers promenade.
1t is sometimes interesting to watci.s
the passers-by on a bright. balmy
afternoon. just before the twilight be-
gins. A couple OF staid matrons walk
leisure1y by, followed by, a group Of
chattering school girls aud then Il lot
OF boys on the lookout for some a;nuse-
ment. Laboiers hnrrying home from
adjacent plantations, business me-
just released from the cares Of office
and shop, seeking the rest and comfort
of happy homes; Damon and Pythias
enjoying each others society and seem
ingly ObliviOus to all the female ppr-
ton of the world and HOW a pair of
lovers seeking to oam out of sight OF
curious eyes and hearing of listening
ears, betake themselves to the
terry by the church. Strange haunt
for lovers, one would think! Yet here,
among these silent tcmhs, with the
dead as mute witnesses, perhaps,
around them, one Knows not how many
impassiOned words OF love have been
uttered, how many VOWS have been
plighted. Long ago a couple wandered
here to talk of the future and the past.
for with one the dark pages of life had
begun to turn, while for the other they
were still fair and untouched by the
shade Of any mighty sorrow. She
could say:
"It is enough, oh. God. ms heart to-day
Runs over with the fullness OF content"
But that was twenty years e and
the scene is but a memory in a widow
ed heart.
Another couple passed along this
NatAh VIII lulShs u S(CIpSs
the world called lovers, but the rival
of this fair girl was a demon who had
destroyed many homes and ruined
many noble lives; so the II of this
talented man sani, forever in the sea
OF inteinpeyanee. and she walks alone
to-day, Il maiden still.
Here eet.te Il -Nantli aud finishing
damsel, dreaming OF Cupid's touch, but
in reality too young for loves dream
to be more than Il bursting bubble.
Better to be in the sciooiAonI pnZz:ing
over equations ana decleEsions and
storing their minds with something
more enduring than sentimental on-
sense.
Do you remember how Lucie Man
| cite, in a Tale of Two Cities" loved
to listen to ecloins footsteps Oh the
sidewalk below her room and to fancy
that they were the footsteps OF all the
! people 'silo were to coine into her iii
ture life! All. the t."ts,eps are hcil
are of the real present. or echoes OF
the past. Some are brisk. active,
hopeful footballs; some are slow and
deliberate. some are hrSitating or indo-
lent, some feeble and weary. Some
are footballs we shall never hear again,
Tor they fail 40 more upon the familiar
paths only shalt we listen to them in
hidden chambers of aching hearts,
They came into oar lives, echoed there
for a brief while and then were lost
/ forever. EssIE.