The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1893-09-07
Letter from Ringwood.

R1NGwooD, n. c., Sept. l, '93.
The severe wind storm Monday dam
aged the crops considerably, blowing
out the cotton that was open, destroy
ing much fodder and doing some dam
age to tobacco. Such day for wind
has never been witnessed in this sec
ton.
We regret the death of Editor w.
w. Hall no little. Had seen and con
versed with him but less than a month
before his death. He appeared in the
full enjoyment Of a vigorous, active
manhood, cheerful, buoyant and hope
full and for so soon have we realized
that g in the midst of life we are in
DEATH" and none of us upon our brief
pilgrimage here below can lift the veil
which closes out the unknown
"realm,' where king and serf meet
upon the same basis from whence the
reaper cometh with his scythe to cut
down his weeds and his flowers. But
one fact, we all know our hour must
come, do what we may to ward off the
mystery touch which chills forever all
joys and sorrows, all strifes, all con-
flicts, all hopes, and all earthly aspira-
lions. Capt. Hall was true to the
principles Of justice, honesty and Chris
tianity and was prepared to be led by
the shadowy hand into the presence Of
the meyer erring Judge.
The life has gone, the breath has fed.
And what has been, no more shall be,
The we'll known'fOrm, the welcome tread
o, where are they, and where is he?
Our Congressman Mr.. Woodland is
constantly at his post and is making
an able, valuable representative. I
notice Representative Bum is being
excoriated by the Caucasian for voting
for unconditional repeal - yet he de-
serves the plaudits of all honorable
men for having the courage of his con-
victions and voting to rid the country
of what the platform of Democracy
terms a cowardly make-shift. Mr..
Bum is right and time will prove it,
Brother Butler and his ilk to the con-
trary.
Evil gossip is the Shiny and poison
Gus channel through which flows the
foulest and blacklist water of meanness
and depravity. Little hearts crammed
full of venom never forgive. IT'S the
big ones, OVERLOOKING with noblest i'm
pulses which rise to the grandeur of a
Christ-like department. So says Henry
Blount in this weeks Mirror. His
Saturday Night and "Only an
Empty Sleeve" in same issue, are pa
thetic and most consoling in conclu-
sions to those who strive for peace and
joy in the great beyond. G. E. NJ.
In Memoriam.
"There is reaper whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the ripened grain at his breath.
And the flowers that grow between.
Calmly and submissively we bow 20
Gods will, as He sent his dread messenger
Death, and called home our beloved sister
and friend Annie NJ. Pardue.
Together she worked with us in the
church ard Sunday school, earnest.
prompt and ever faithful in the full dis
charge of her duties. Hers was noble
womanhoOd. She was too intellectual to
indulge in frivolity, and too conscientious
evil. Gentle. kind, loving and lovable,
she found the way into every heart. and
bound forever In friendships golden
chain those who once became her friends.
Not in vain did she live; not in vain did
she die. The dumb lips are forever call
ing US to greater zeal In our work for the
Master. She was an humble Soldier of
the Cross, not aspiring to deeds OF worldly
honor or places of distinction, but ever
content to do the Masters bidding, teach
ing US by her beautiful life that
"True worth is in being, not seeming
In doing ach day that goes by
Some little good, not in dreaming
OF great things to do by and by"
As said of another, so may 1t be said Of
her, " Not persisted, but in the fair morn.
ing of life rescued from the burden and
heat of day wearing on to far OF sun
SET" He who said, "Lo, am with you
Away" forsook her not, and when her
eyes closed upon the scenes Of earth they
opened upon the glories Of Immanuefs
hand. Faithful unto death, she looks upon
the face Of the Savior she loved and
served so we'll. We shall miss you sOrely
dear Annie, but we know that you are
sweetly resting from all cares and sorrows.
There, on the fair hills of God we hope to
| meet you some sweet day. In the Plank
Chapel cemetery we quietly laid her, to
sleep, but not forever-there will be q glo-
ri0us dawn. FANNIE.