A DAILY MESSAGE
MEMORIES ! It may he only a faded photograph, a pressed flower from the long ago, a letter, a doll, a toy, a ring, a trinket—these, or one ol those other treasures sacred to the memory of some loved one or absent. It is enough. Swiftly memory’s magical lingers, rustling unerringly over our heart-strings, draw a haunting melody ‘from our slumbering emotions, and we live them over. I'orgotten sorrows stir softly in their tombs. Old heart-breaks re-echo, old loves return, hopes that were dead arise l on wings, anil silent voices thrill us once again. I'or, lulled in the countless chambers of the. brain, our thoughts are linked by many a bidden chain.” Awake but one, and lo! what myriads rise! Yes, a myriad pictures come and suiltly go; and others come—and go as swiftly. A glorious sunset, remembered not for its glory but lor a pledge given as the sun went down ; a shady tree, loved by a lost loved one; a glint of hair, a face, a song, a flower, a handclasp, or a tear. The memories of life are the treasury of the soul. —M. PRESTON STANLEY.
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Hokitika Guardian, 13 April 1929, Page 1
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192A DAILY MESSAGE Hokitika Guardian, 13 April 1929, Page 1
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