Who has not observed the mutability
and ever changing aspect of earthly things? Here,
in this pleasant village, where rises the towering
spire, the lofty mansion and the humble cottage, with
all the varieties appertaining to our village, its
numerous factories and pleesant school houses, its
well erected bridge over its foaming waters, once
the Indian roamed, in untamed freedom, through forests
unbroken by the woodman’s axe. Here resounded
the fierce war-whoop, and here the wild death song;
here was built the council-fire, and here was smoked
the pipe of peace; in fine, here on this very spot
existed all the elements of savage life. The light
canoe was paddled over the roaring stream, that thundered
on in its majesty, even as now.
But the white man came and scattered
the race, and civilization spread its changes over
the scene. Thus society is ever changing; even
beautiful cities that have existed in all the pomp
of wealth and elegance, have now become extinct, and
are covered by the dust of ages.
Man’s life, too, is one constant
scene of change, from infancy to childhood, from childhood
to manhood, and from manhood to old age. And
many are the vicissitudes which await us during our
journey through life. One generation passes away
to be succeeded by another; we too must change, and
when we shall be sought by our friends in our accustomed
places, and they shall ask, “Where are they?”
Echo shall answer, “Where?”