The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-04-29
NO39

vague ecnO nOatlng on the breeze
kwhspering softly, "home again." Yes
indeed, home again it was, but yet, so
unlike to me. One might have reioic-
ed at the idea, and found it '.joy be-
yond measure" to revisit the place
from which he had departed years
ago, leaving behind all dear friends,
pleasing scenes etc.: yet it seemed
impossible for me to even appear con-
tented.
After visiting all my old haunts
with a dear old comrade loved so
well, we had at last reached cottage
where, some years previous dwelled,
a happy. happy family (of which l
was momber) which is now scatter
ed far and wide one by one. to battle
the struggles of this cruel world.
Some. (and God bless them) Of whom
had been called away "and passed "a
way like dew before the morning sum-
by the echoes of the voice of the wave
OF death which sweeps us all into e.
ternity for ever and for ever more.
Fair. indeed, did the old place ap-
pear, although passing strange, for
the hand and presence of that dear
departed mother We're felt and missed,
with 4 longing for cher and days gone
10y" that simply amounted to agony. I
Tel. the change more than words could
possibly express; ana when | arrived
at the houSe and found many of the
old nelShbors who still remained there,
eager to greet me, | nearly broke
down the contrast between nv past
happy joyous life, and all | had loved
and lost, and my present lonely un-
loved life; was so strange, so awful to
bear and endure.
felt rs If my heart would break, as
| returned the warm greetings of
those old friends, who had known aud
cared not only for me in many instan-
ces since my earliest infancy, but for
that dear mother who fell into the
slumber from which the sleeper never
awakes. have never anywhere else
found such loving, true, honest friends
as they have been to me. They were
part and parcel of my life at beloved
Thibodaux, which had forever van
ished into the past; but the present
and the future were replete with
memories of Thibodaux and them,
that time, place, and people alike were
powerless to alter, or make me forget
even for one mOme.t.
Thibodaux and my friends there,
were the beloved recOllections of my
past life. AS | moved about among
the people, and in company with my
dear old comrade. went over the rooms
and garden, all my present life forgot
ten diff 'cnlties. troubles, cales-even
enemies-fade like Il dream as one
struggles back to wakeiulness and
consciousness. | seemed to have no
place, no memory. but Th;bodaux aud
the days there.
Once more ! was a happy. joyous
child golEs everywhere handin-lland
with mother, that beloved mother.
whom | cared for so much; once
more the voices OF brother and sister
rang and gaily resounded through the
air; once more | saw father In his old
accustomed place with 4 quaint. hap
py smile or his face once again | saw
the face of that sweetheart with eyes
replete with love and welcome for
me; once more | saw as if it were
yesterday, the beautiful and trusting
face of dear sister, my darling, my be-
loved. the sister whose love made up
my life.
And as | recalled all the past, with
a keenness and vividness that is sim
ply acute agony, how could | refrain
from weeping in quiet deep fashion
that speaks more truly of the pain |
was suffering than any loud outburst
of grief could ever have done.
Again came vivid imagination
that | heard the gentle signing breeze
utter in my behalf:
Il cannot devine what it means,
This haunting nameless pain:
A tale of bygone days
Keeps broodiDg through my BRAIN"
After reviewing quite well every
corner and nook of the old place, |
wended my way to the clurcllyard-
the still aud silent city of the dead.
There, in the quaint, peaceful old
! churchyard, full of graves that had
| been there for many long years. sleep
ing her last long sleep, lay all that
was mortal of the one human being
! that hati loved with a love that
matte up my entire existence--''nO
lost but gone before"
For long time stood there in si-
lence gazing at nv dear mothers
grave. My heart was too full of the
past aud present for speech to be easy.
Over and over again recalled to my
self every look and word OF the dear
one who reposed there so quietly.
And living people may not inspire