The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1898-01-13
tRocky Mount Motor. }

These lines are being written dur
ing the last hour of the last day of
dear old 1897. The old year is dying.
1t is in its death throes. In a few
minutes more 1t will slip from the
ramparts of time, and pass away into
that waveless sea OF silence whose un-
seen waters break in noiseles rlpples
upon the viewless shores Of Eternal
By Gone. 1t is an hour for smiles
and for tears, Tor precious memories
and sorrow crowned recollec,ions; for
the old year has had its lights and its
shadows, its radiance and its gloom,
its brightness and its darkness, It's JOYS
and its sorrows, its sweet iruitions and
its bitter disappointments, its brilliant
successes and its blackened failures,
its soul inspiring anthems of bllssful
dreams fulfilled and its heart piercing
canticles of wild and black despair.
Yea, all of these lights and shad ows
are the fate woven shroud for the year
that now is dying. for in this sin
stained earth of ours a tear trickles
down cheeks where smile had gls-
tened moment before, and sharpest
,horns of torture grow where flowers
of rejoicing blossom. And reader how
has it been with your Has it been
with you one Of joyous brightness
or of sombre gloom3 Have you been
amid the sun nursed tropics of radiant
hopes and brilliant dreams all melted
into glorious realization, or have you
been stroll;ng upon the bleak and
barren shores of that frozen Norway of
disappointment where flowers of hope
are only planted but to freeze and to
die? Have you been wearing i gar
land of happiness, or an aureole of
suffering? Have you been listening to
the carolings of JOY, or those drge like
strains of sorrow, which brought to the
aching heart no hopeful CLEANS Of a
glad and bright tomorrow? What
ever your fate has been, the record
of the year no" that is dying must
ever be tenderly sacred and previously
dear, for as memory's barque goes
sailing back over the ocean Of the
past this dear old year will rise up
and glis,en with the sun beam of a
smile, or the dew drop OF tear.
The old year has been kind and
merciful to us as a town and as a COM
munity and as section, for no death
dealing epidemic has visited US with
its bligh,ing blasts Of withering de-
s,ruclion. No fatal pes,ilence with its
wasting breath, has swept our streets
and made them desola,e. No wolf of
famine has gone bowling through our
section, and filling homes with the
gnarllngs OF its sharp and raveno1s
teeth. And while the earth has not
yielded its most abundant harvest, and
rewarded the hard working tlllers of
The soil with lucrative profits; and
while the sky Of prosperity Is not glls-
tening and beaning and resplendent
with brightest gushngs Of sunshine 10
llumine with its effulgence every dark
ened home circle; and while the birds
Of good cheer are not singing their
merriest carolings to enliven and glad
den the passing hours, still the times
are not as bad as they could have been
and we have much for which TO offer
praise and thanksgiving, for amid all
of our misforlunes and disappoint-
merts and trials ard heart aches we
still have many rich and manifold
blessings, and swee,er and better and
more comforting still we have the
cheering sunlight of the blessed assur-
ance that if we put our whole trust in
Him all will be we'll, and the end will
be sweet with the mellowed luscious
ness of the blessed fruitage grown and
ripened in the faith tended orchard of
the divine promise: "My peace l
give unto you, not as the wo rid give,h,
give | unto you"