Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1910-03-01
Johns Latter.

We have just received q picture card
from friend in Ohio, that Is more salts
flying than any other Of the scores that
have come to hand from the four quar-
tiers of the globe. II is q faithful repre-
sentation of q scene upon which We look.
cd just fifty.two years ago on the 10Th OF
the April that Is coming right along.
Maysville, KY, has changed but little 10
changes elsewhere. The little city lies
along the south bank of the ''placid, soft
Ohio" and back of it rise the grand old
wooded hills, and the roadway winding
up and around is In plain view, that our
feet have trodden when our legs were
strong and could successfully cope with
Kentucky mud. The only perceptible
change is a railroad track between the
city and the river bank.
Opposite Maysville Is the city Of Aber-
deem in Ohio, whore We spent day and
q night after steaming down the river
from Parkersburg on the good boat,
"Swallow." A steam ferry boat, then
as now piled and plies between the two
cities.
On q Monday morning at the date
and-stuck, but We pulled up the wind
ing way, twelve miles to Poe's Mills and
cousin Aliens, and-wiped our boots.
From the heights above the city we turn
ed to look and the scene presented will
never fade away. The sun developed it
Their and there. We keep the negative
still, but you cannot see it. We cannot
show it to you nor describe it. About
the year 1850 Daniel Boone looked from
those heights and was thrilled with the
prospect, and put his feelings into words
that we fail to recall.
We have lately seen little gem of
poetry written by one with whom we
corresponded years ago, but whom we
never saw. We had lost trace OF her till
the other day. Her old teacher, Miss
Julia H. May, to whom the poem Is in
scribed, says: "But, alas, she died before
she came to her own, and little grave
yard in Augusta holds all that is left of
her on earth" "Lura Bell" was her
nom de plume, and her name Julia May
Williamson. JOHN.
TEACH NE AGAIN.
Come, gentle teacher, again as of yore,
Patiently teach me the lesson once more.
Hear me again as stand by your side
Waiting the word that shall lovingly guide
All my proud heart to obedience sweet.
All my slow speech to an utterance meet.
am 30 ignorant; still, as a child
would con pages where wisdom has smiled.
would forget how the years roll between,
How for US each the low mound has grown green
Over the loved ones, how many q way
Opened In childhood Is closing to-day.
Come, gentle Teacher. my knowledge is small,
Even the sciences open to all
Scarce have been named by me; never grace
Gives fair excuse for the lines on my face,
Though have treasured for manv year
Fragments like crystals from wisdom's bright
sphere.
III! the old pages never may con,
Life Is too short to repeat even one
OF the old essons-yet fam would ask
Help from my teacher In many task,
Even more hard to the womanly heart
Than to the child were the teachings Of art.
Of earth no longer may win
Ere the long anthem of Heaven begin.
You who have listened the cadences sweet
Teach me the wisdom of Heaven to repeat,
Teach me the faith that steals into your heart
W hen the long folds Of llfe's draperies part.
Teach me, o teach me! So little know,
Scarcely step of the way should 20,
Scarcely syllable set to lifes psalm,
Only a hint Of some possible calm
A fter life's dream; of the blessed refrain
Set to lfe's music, come, teach me again.
LURA BELL.