West Virginia argus. [volume] (Kingwood, W. Va.) 1877-1946, 1901-09-12

and for all that moral obligations
made sacred, did our country offer
her grandest and best. Do we of
these times, catch the true spirit,
when we sing "The Star Spangled
Banner" and "America" or is il
only those who have taken active
part in the country's service2 Those
who have tramped for days at a
time, in all seasons and weather,
enduring hardships of every de-
scription, certainly needed the soul
stirring strains of yankee Doodle"
and "Marching through Georgia"
to revive their tired and worn out
bodies and spirits. For, explain it
as you may, strain of martial
music will urge men into the front
ranks of battle, when everything
else fails.
To the older members of this
Association How painfully
sweet are the echoes that start,
when memory plays a tune in the
heart. How delightful it is to
greet the friends of long.ago, amid
the well remembered scenes, and
recall occurrences hidden away, it
may be, in the gar lered store
houses of other days, but never for
gotten And where is the old
school girl or boy who would not
enjoy such meeting ? Where
indeed, can one be found, who, az
each year rolls by to mlngle with
the vanished Past, does not occa-
sionally pause amid the busy scenes
of everyday life, and sigh for the
happy care.free days2 The sing
ing of an old song learned at sing
ing school or relating to some
boyish trick, and the food gates of
memory are opened. The graves
on the hill side seem 10 yawn and
give back their dead. Backward
your thoughts stretch, to almost
forgotten times, and the boys and
girls of fifty years ago are called
again from their scattered retreats,
and once more saying their Lessons
in the old school house. How the
heart yearns for the vanished faces
anu presence of those early friends !
A Renaissance of the great Napo-
leon recalls an evening spent at
Malmaison with that majestic figure
in the century's history. at the time
when he, who made and un-made
thrones at will, stood in the full
meridian of his glory. and the
shadow of St. Helena had not
appeared on his horizon. He re-
marked, as he stopped to listen to
the chimes of convent bell, as it
tolled the twilight hour, CHOSE
bells remind me of my school days:
the happiest days of my life" 1t
brings back days too beautiful to
last. Recollection loves to linger,
and memory goes back through the
mist of intervening years, to child
hoods distant shores, and will cling
to us through life's long day. 1t
awakes chord that has not stirred
for years, and makes the heart
throb with JOY. How 1t brings back
in fancy, the golden moments of
other days, of pictured scenes long
past away, of youth, old faces, they
come back like radiant dreams.
How small portion of life it is
that we really enjoy. In youth, we
look forward to things that are to
come in old age, we look back to
things that are in the past: in mid
die life, although we appear to be
more occupied in things that are
present, yet even that is too often
absorbed in vague determination to
be vastly happy at some future day,
when we have time.
Truly did the poet speak when he
said
with equal pace, and impartial
Fate,
Knocks at the cottage and the
palace gate"
And, since last we met, the Reaper,
with his shining blade, has cut down
from among US, not only the beard
ed grain, but the flowers that grow
between. The circle has been bro
ken, and today we miss the faces Of
some Of our number, who Deaths
fingers have beckCned to the other
slde OF the Kiver. One by one, as
the call came, four links have been
severed from the chain. On the
other hand, some new links have
been added, and today we welcome
into the Association, the little
strangers who have been sent to US
during the past year. As a family,
we cannot help but appreciate the
many blessings that have been be-
slowed upon US, and our hearts are
filled with gratitude 10 the lind