The NEW BERN
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
IN THE HEART OP
EASTERN NORTH
/ ^'oi/
VOLUME 16
NEW BERN, N. C. 28560, FRIDAY, JULY 13, 1973
NUMBER 18
All of us, being sentimental by
nature, like to cling to keep
sakes. More often than not, the
things we save have no material
value, and in the eyes of others
it may seem rather foolish to
preserve them.
In your case, you probably
have one or several letters that
you wouldn’t think of partfng
with, plus several greeting
cards, extra special clippings
and treasured photographs.
Instinctively, we hold onto
tangible reminders of the past,
wishing wistfully for small
portions of our life that we
would like to live over but never
can.
Sometimes it is pride alone
that makes us harbor a
memento through the years. It
bolsters us for the belitting
realities of today to have a
reminder at hand that once we
won a debating contest, scored
an important touchdown, led
the grand march at the Junior-
Senior prom, or were elected
president of a club.
Preserving newspaper
clippings is a universal habit.
Neid to hiring one’s own voice,
few things intrigue a completely
normal mortal more than
seeing his or her name in print.
We are reminded of what the
late 0.0. McIntyre—best of the
New York columnists—once
said. “Anyone,” wrote McIn
tyre, “who doesn’t appreciate a
favorable mention . in a
reputable newspaper is either a
fool or a liar.”
There must, we’ll admit, be
exceptions, but they are
probably quite rare. Of course,
no one admires the publicity
seeker who goes overboard
about breaking into print, but
there’s nothing woeftdly wrong
about a reasonable appreciation
of public notice.
Today we want to share with
you a keepsake that was passed
along to us years ago by Mrs. J.
R. Alexander.
Entitled A Prayer of The
' Aged, it was found among the
belongings of her mother, Mrs.
Richhilda Hardison, when she
died. Mrs. Hardison, who lived
at Arapahoe, may not have
composed the prayer—that we
don’t know—but it was penned
in her handwriting as ad
vancing years descended upon
her.
No matter who wrote it, the
]x*ayer is beautiful and will find
a responsive chord in the hearts
of those who dwell in the sunset
years. Read it, and you’ll un
derstand why:
“Oh most merciful God, cast
me not off in the time of old age;
forsake me not if my strength
faileth. May my hoary head be
found in righteousness.
Preserve my mind from
dotage and imbecility, and my
body from protract^ disease
and excruciating pain. Deliver
me from despondency in my
declining years, and enable me
to bear with patience whatever
may be TTiy holy will.
I humbly ask that my reason
may be continued to the last,
and that I may be so comforted
and supported that I may leave
my testimony in favor of the
reality of religion and of Thy
faithfulness in fulfilling Thy
(Cdntinued on page 8)
®prtt-airatt?H Olomitij ^uhlfr
Nature’s world is a child's world,
And they hold it in their hands;
A wondrous realm beyond compare,
That no grown up understands.
So much to touch, so much to see.
From dawn until early dark;
Fragile as a butterfly's wing.
And gay as the song of a lark.
—Photo by Theodore Baxter.