Mrs. Grundy. (Tracy City, Tenn.) 1903-1930, 1904-08-18
Uncle Toms
Chat.
MEMORY.


(she's married now demanded
q full column of Uncle Tom some
time since so he will comply.
Now politics are too hot fol
me to mix up with for almost
anything is better than a politi,
cal wrangle. My memory goes
back to the long ago, and finds
things much nicer to write about.
| love to think and to write OF
the pretty girls who used to &c
with a hop skip, and jump off tc
the spring for water, out to the
barnyard to feed the chickens,
or along the cool shady roads to
drive the calves home. 1t might
be well for me to say here that
every person has his serious, tot
tering age as well as his merry,
hopeful youth. No matter how
independent you feel now if you
live age will come and you will
need some one to lean upon
My dear wife is growing old
and so am |, though we were
once as young and lively as any
of you. So all of you will have
to grow old and you will look
back as we do now and your
hearts will dwell on memories OF
the past, memories which will
grow dearer as you grow older.
And my advice is that of the
song, Live so in youth that
you'll not blush in age" Nc
remorse, no regret will be sweet
in declining years, so Gull the
sweetest flowers to deck your on,
ward pathway. We old folks
love the homespun dress because
it reminds of the old spinning
wheel and loom and these old
memories cause the finest fabrics
to fade and pale before us.
Then they bring to mind the
bonnie lasses who wore them and
that makes them all the dearer
to us old boys. Never mind,
young folks, the memories that
will come to you in the future
may make this generation very
dear to your hearts. Our trials
in the bloody days of the Confed,
eracy make those days sacred to
us old soldiers. You may think
those old boys are foolish in call,
ing up and living over those days
of the long ago, well you will all
be just as foolish when you grow
old. We may have riches, fame
and honor but none of these can
bring us such pleasant memories
as a life we'll spent-duties well
perfosmed. There are only two
great painters of life, Hope and
Memory. The one paints for
youth the future in the most glo-
rious colors of a beautiful Au-
tumn sunset; the other paints
for age the sunny days of child
hood in the soft mellow tints of
q quiet peaceful Indian Summer
day. Days that were bright then
seem much brighter now as
memory paints them in the hour
of darkness and solitude. The
romance of youth, boys, is, now
that | have grown old, the 70.
nance of age. When | was a
boy-with what pleasure do we
revert to those happy youthful
days-no cares perplexed my
mind, no sorrows saddened my
heart, no storms of misfortune
swept over me. IT'S sweet, all
doubly sweet, to live again our
youthful days as memory pic
lures each well-loved scene SC
wildly! How good God has
been to give his children a mem.
Dry! From it we gather comfort
for our latter years thus Danish.
ing sadness. Our richest treas
ury is memory, for how fondly we
call to mind father, mother,
brothers, sisters and friends
Our hearts are not dead fol
memory keeps them young and
we hope to triumph over many
sad things under the sweet influ
ences of memory and love
Both are gifts of an all-wise Fa
Their and should be carefully cul
tivated until death kisses us t.
sleep and carries us to that LAND