The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1890-01-09
A Christmas Eve Thought.

The following beautiful thoughts are
from communication written to this
paper on Christmas eve, 1886, by DR..
Geo. E. Matthews, of Ringwood, soon
after the death of his sainted mother,
to whom he was greatly devoted
When the author lost his dwelling
house by fire some time ago, his scrap
book was burned along with most of
his household and personal effects.
This is reprinted by request being ia
ken from our files in the office:
1t is now New Years Ere! What Wis
ions of departed glory loom up from
memorys corridor at the very words;
years gone by, when our hearts were
young, what gay times we would have
When the old year was slowly declining
and the new rising from the ashes of the
past then JOY reigned supreme in our
hearts. The remembrance of New Years
Eve is ever an oasis in the great desert of
life, back to which even now, my thoughts
delight to wander. New Years Eve then
and now is, alas. so different it makes the
heart ache at the comparison. Those
who formed our unbroken household
band are now scattered and the links
which formed our chain OF happiness are
broken, never again to be united. Upon
the careless brow OF some, the spell of
thought has been laid the caution and
dstrust of the world is plainly visible
and those guileless hearts are no longer
ours. Wild flowers have blossomed and
faded for many year upon the graves
of some of the dearest companions of for
mer New Years Ewes and a new made
grave received the blessed remains of
what made it all it was. Ney Years Ers!
What sad night What time for re-
Fiction upon the past year. Tonight
the winds shrek requium for the de-
parted year gone from the earth forever,
and seem to whisper into our ears solemn
words of warning. Oh the changes which
haveswept over our paths since this time
one little year ago. Its shade is on each
brow, it's shadow in each heart. We may
look upon the faces of those whose hearts
one year ago beat high with bounding
hope, but now are laid forever from our
view by the cruel turf of the graveyard
Through the telescope OF the past the
New Year would indeed be dreary pros
pect, did not hope birth her brilliant COL
ors, pencil the canvass of the past and
gild with bewildering loneliness, the I'M
written pages of the future. By her ra-
diant beams those loved forms now asleep
forever in deaths embrace, are beheld
and thought of as in fairer cline where
pain and parting are unknown and upon
whose peaceful shore the storms which
cloud our sky never burst and naught
save beauty, order and peace reign for
ever. Did no thOrns pierce our feet upon
the dusty highway of life, we could never
fully appreciate the flowers which at
every step spring up, and gladden. us with
their enlivening presence. Bulwer has
truly said, "hope is plant which can
never be rooted out of a. noble heart till
the last heart string crack as it is pulled
away
As Mr. Henry Blount, the gifted and
poetic genius who so gracefully yields the
Faber over the columns of the Wilson
Mirror, has so touchingly and beautifully
said:
christmas is here and while many are
joyous and happy, there are Others who
are in the depths of rayless gloom and
who will look upon this blessed anniver-
sary as the saddest one of all their lives.
When the fires are sparkling and merry
making is on the grand rounds and all
shall seem bright and buoyant, the
thought will steal over one like the men,
DRY of dreadful dream. Where is the
other? Calmly and forever reposing
amid the silent land of the sleepers. If
the Christmas season could only be yelled,
we might forget that there are dear little
stockings never again to hang around
the chimney corners and over the fire
place But Christmas will come, with all
its conviviality and carousal, while thous-
ands of sorrowing bleeding hearts are
beating like muffied drums, the dead
march over blighted hopes. shattered af-
fections and falling tears. What shad-
oWs amazel What shadows we pursuev"