The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, December 01, 1897, Image 11

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    10
THE BATTALION.
even of childhood and in my young manhood that I would
blot from that sheet. Well can we remember the earnest ap
peals of a devoted father, directing our course to a higher and
nobler manhood, pleading as only a father can that we should
direct our cause aright, that every act of our lives should
make a sweet reflection; but too often have we ignored these
appeals and yielded to the seemingly blissful frivolties of
youth. Oh ! let me blot these from memory’s tablet, but no,
too late, they are indelibly written as recollections of the past.
We can well remember the sweet surroundings of home.
How man}' recollections flash into our memory when we
think of the paternal roof that sheltered us in our childhood.
Well can we remember the devotion of that mother and that
father, who, we now feel and realize more fully than ever
loved and still love us witn most fervent devotion? Many
are the recollections of the earnest advice of that father,
warning us of the danger and pit falls which lay before us, of
the evil influences we would encounter, urging us to shun the
very appearance of evil and restraining us from the excessive
frivolities of youth. Little could we realize the full impor
tance and meaning of his counsel but now these recollections,
written in the history of our lives, appear to haunt us, for lit
tle did we then know and fear, and even we yet do not fully
realize their importonceto us. Erase these recollections, blot
them from memory’s tablet and let each word and act hence
forward that may be written upon the sheet on which our
future history may be inscribed, stand as golden emblems and
marks of true manhood, so that these college walls may never
resound with the echo of our names used in dishonor, and
that we may have the sweet recollection as we go down the
pathway of life, that we have done our full duty here to the
credit of our instructors, to the honor of ourselves and to the
proud satisfaction of a father and mother, who will bless us
when we leave these sacred walls and return to the paternal
shelter. Then the recollections of our stay here will be swe et
remembrances around which memory will love to dwell.
J. S. Monroe.