The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1897-05-15
FRIENDSHIPS OFFERING.

The editor pro tem had the pleas
ure of receiving letter some time
since from his mu h-csteemed friend,
the Rev. II. w. Knickerbocker, who
was go universally popular during his
psstorate here. In the course of his
interesting remarks he says: "The
more see Of my people, the better /
like them; but l never expect to be
more pleasantly located than | was IN
Providence, although raised iu the
city. Sometimes there is an almost
irresistible longing TO get out into the
fields and woods love SO we'll II
seems 10 me now that l did not prize
them sufficiently when they were
mine. TO hear the saucy bark of q
squirrel, the chatter of black birds or
the whirling wings of partridge
would be sweetest music to me. now
that Gao only hear the harsh, clatter-
ing noise Of the city. IT'S always
thus. ave never prize the music Til
the sweet-voiced bird has flown"
Well, have this consolation-I can
hear again the melody, smell the fra.
GRANGE of the flowers and see the
countless beauties, as | walk III the
rustling woods and sunlight fields of
memory. AS you were in reality, so
you are frequently my companion as l
wander through the realms OF the
IDEAL"
This is truly the language of the
reverend gentleman's heart. His SEN
timents have been ours a hundred
times. He loved nature in oil her rich
variety, her rude magnificence, her
sweet simplicity. The eloQuence that
thrilled his frame as he stood in the
pulpit was inspired to great extent
by his keen appreciation of Gods
mstchless handiwork as spread before
him In the lap of creation. 'Tis here
our friendship first began-out in the
fields, away from the haunis of man,
close to natures heart-'tis here we
felt the throb that bound ns both to
nature and ourselves. 1t grew upon
us as We communed with nature in her
fresh, green glory, or clad in The icy
garb of winter; as we walked at au-
tumn time sdown her woodland aisles,
and gazed in mute yet mingled adora-
tion on the sturdy grandeur of the for
est. 1t was cemented alas one win
try evening, when, with the dying
flame Of day, the torch OF life just
fiickered in brothers breast, and
then went out forever. II was cemen-
ted as we stood by the open grave,
when, with his native elOquence, he
pronounced that grand, yet consoling
sentence: abe that believeth iii Me,
though he we're dead, yet shall he live"
Days, months. aud almost years
have flown since then, still would we
weave one chaplet for the days gone
by and place it on fair fancy's brow
a tribute unto him who was q friend;
who, loving nature as his life, loved
yet the God of nature more.
Sweet are-the days that bind us to the past.
Fresh with great natures golden drops OF
IT'S hard to think their pleasures conld
not last,
For in the distance now they seem too few
Yet as trace each by-gone scene again,
And tread the paths where once our foot
steps led,
ask the question: Is it all in vain?
Is all forgotten, is dear mem'ry deadf
All no! Times hand can meyer dim the
page
Wherein is writ the language of the heart;
Bright will 1t be when we are bowed with
age,
And in llfe's drama nigh have played our
part.
Green be they still, and green shall ever be
The rustic haunts we loved to wander DER;
III roam them DER again, and think OF thee
AS thou vert to me in the days OF yore.