Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1828-10-08

An old man stood near tho head Of the
grave-a man no was Of most venerable ap
pearance; and the dark chaos Of the soul,
lent an unearlhly grandeur 10 his snowy brow
No tear glisiened n'that rayless eye, but the
agony of death was there. The minister ad-
dressed the throne ofgrace. The aged mourn-
er uncovered his head, and then saw his hand
slightly tTen,ble, and imagined that his fore
head was moist. But one there wac, whose
feelings were not so easily controlled ! saw
the mother in that swollen oye-i heard the
waings Of chIldless oman, in those stiaed
sobs, those deep. drawn sighs, which convulsed
her tender bosom! And the dead was dear
also to others. For saw tho preachers lip
quiver, and his voice was nearly choked with
emotion. saw there, eyes
" Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tear fest the
Arabian trees their medicinal gum I"
The coffin was lowered into the grave. The
heavy clods fell on the marble breast Of the
deceased. The mother sprang for ward, and
with loud shrek seemed about to throw her.
self into the tomb. A noble youth who stood
near, hastened to her side. He endcavored TO
speak consolation to the distracte soul; but
the words died away on his lips. Ho essayed
again and again, but he seemed to know that
had he bade the mother be comfored, his
eyes would have coptradicted the words of his
mouth. At longth-"Yes, thou mayest weep!"
cried he, "tis impious not to weep for such 4
son! But see-am not | misera bic too?" And
this was all the consolation he had TO offer; but
it appeared to be the best calculated for her
present state Of mind. There was sincerity in
it. 1t would have been in vain to tell the
mother that her son had gone from a world Of
sorrow to repose on the bosom Of his Saviour
for she would the moro have regretted his loss
because he was worthy Of such destiny. 1t
would have been Of no avail to tell her that
"'he Lord gave and the Lord taketh awayr'
it would have reminded her of that happy mo.
ment when she
Hsiled her husband with fathers nalne,'
and rejoiced in the son Of her you,h-aye, and
'twould have conjured up again to her magma
ton the wasted cheek and dim eye of her Al
fred. as he langushed under the cruel agonies
which laid him low she would once more
have heard his shortened breath-and on her
car the hollow tones would have arisen in
which he bade her his last adeu, and called
upon the angel messenger who waited to bear
away his triumphant spirit!
She turned her watery eyes upon the youth
-" Yes!' said she, he was good son!-
and you and he were much alke-you loved
him and he loved YOU" The rush Of recollec-
ton for moment overpowered the young man.
"I see that you weep for him." continued
she; but you cannot feel mothers grief
no! 70! There lies buried, my all! Oh, why
did Heaven spare tho old wihered vine, and
snatch the stately tree upon which it hung for
support!'
The throng now begun gradually to disperse.
The father was the last who turned away
and when his wife and her young supporter
took him by the arm and gently forced him
from the sad spot, he seemed unwilling TO avert
his eyes from the mound which had been heap
ed upon tho remain ins Of his dead son. But
when he left the grave, he appeared to be for
the first time willing TO believe that all was not
a dream. The horrd conviction that Alfred
should no more meet his view, that "the place
MORE" fell upon his soul with oil the heart
rending energies Of fearful reality. "Mary!'
cried he, turning to his wife, "our son is dead!"
There was nothing in the words-but there was
someth ing in the manner in which they were
uttered, which might have melted rock
There was an expression in the countenance
of the old man which proclaimed him 10 he a
person of resolution and great fortitude; but
the gnarled oak had been twsted--the stern
spirit had been broken down and the cruel
stroke which he had sustained, like that inflct-
ed by Moses's rod, opened gushing fountain
in the Gnty rock! Oh, those are scalding tears
which bedew the cheeks Of manhood. They
are fltratons from the heart-drops wrung
from the soul by the ftfu struggles Of mortal
agony unlike the tears Of woman, they yield
no relief. They are like the emitted rays OF
the sun, which, while they detrac, not from his
spendor, serve but to show the intensity Of his
fervor.
turned from the melancholy scene and pur-
sued my ramble; but in vain did the sylvan
songsters tuno their sweetest notes; in vain did
the purlng brooks murmur through the grassy
mead-,hey could neither awaken again the
glow OF delight, nor lull TO repose my agitated
feelings. Death and the grave had taken full
possession Of my mind, and my reflections in
voluntarily returned to the house Of mourning.
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