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