Locomotive Firemen's Magazine - Vol 11 (1887)

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0 s' jK^^z- - <4 ('■ ''-p} hjih^yS h.5l»7^. T ft ft iro comotive Firemen’sMagazine » ienN Vol. XI. JANUARY, 1887. No. 1. RING OUT THE OLD, RING IN THE NEW. “He frosted his bumpers to the brim : A jollier year we shall not see, But tho’ his eyes are waxing dim, And t* •’ his foes speak ill of him, He was a frien4 to me. Old Year, you shall not die: vVe did so laugh and cry with you, I’ve half a mind to die with you, Old Year, if you must die.” “When will the streams be aweary of flowing Under my eye? When will the wind be aweary of blowing Over the sky ? When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting When will the heart be weary of beating? And nature die? Never, O, never! Nothing will die. The stream flows, The wind blows. The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.” Time flies, and in its flight bears the days, the months, the years away. There is change— and if death, then a ceaseless resur- rection. We are not averse to reminis- cences, we are not at war with memory, though its treasures may not always be just to our liking. But memory is truthful — it is a sturdy faculty, it makes no concessions nor compromises. A picture once hung in its halls remains intact. It will not down, nor turn its face to the wall. God pity the poor unfortunate who has no beautiful pic- tures hanging in memory’s gallery. We write to say a good word for the old year, 1886. If there are those to “speak ill of him,” we are not of their number. In our memory we shall embalm him. He gave the world seed time and harvest, the early and the later rain, the seasons in their regular order. No one thing in the program was omitted. There was snow and hail and frost. For a time the frolicsome, laughing brooks were still, and the concerts of the song birds were postponed, but as the earth sped on its circuit, the vernal season ap- peared, the song birds returned, the ice-fil- ters were broken and the old-time minstrelsy was heard again. The emerald grass car- peted the fields, the trees robed themselves in beauty, there was bud and blossom, balmy winds and bright skies, fruits and fruitions. If there were deaths, births outnumbered them; if there were mourners, there were others who came with words of sympathy and cheer." If there was poverty, there was benevolence, and for every ill a compensa- tion. The right, on many a field, confronted the wrong, and won signal victories. The Truth, never more defiant, challenged Error to combat, and left him to die surrounded by his worshipers. Never has a year, since the “morning and the evening” completed the first day, passed on to join the centuries, borne away records more cheering to the workingmen of the world — for never in the world’s history have workingmen stood up as erect as now. Grand old year, here’s to thee; shake, and farewell. Digitized by Google