Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1828-07-23
THE FATHER-A SKETCH.

lOTUlS, Witnout lteHIlS HOW HluCH hc'io"
owes to truth. Imagination may busy it.
self with scfiptions of some wide
sweeping desolation, in which are bur-
led families and names; it may cOnjure
up scenes TO shock, by the extent Of
their misery, or disgust, by the depravity
Of their actors. But truth desconds into
the human heart, and gathers its knowl-
edge from the sources Of affection; where
some are dried up by the ingratitude of
man, and many overflow to irrigate a
thankless SOIL When thus directed, we
have at hand the means Of continual sym
palhy, and, whether we turn to the right
hand or to the left, the heart rightly at
tuned, finds where to drop tear for
grief, or heave a sigh for error.
Improving the opportunity which
precorious spring, offered for an early
morning walk, l found myself; a short
time since, near the enclosure of bur-
ying ground on the borders of the city.
Whether il was to hold discourse with
those for whom fate has marked me an
early companions; or to minister to that
melancholy which the smtten must al
ways endure, l stopped not to inquire,
but removing the slight fastening of the
gate, | entered the 'city of the dead
to read the momentos Of earthly vanity.
Among the young spires Of grass that
were starting from the graves, were
strewed thousand minute white bios
SONS, dotting the hillocks and casting a
slight perfume upon the chilly air. |
gathered Cew as | passed on, and thought
them like the promises of childhood, on
ly blooming for early waste.
Mediteting upon the scene before me,
| was unconscious Of tho presence of
any human being, till lifting my eye, l
discovered that another had entered the
enclosure. l had leaned upon a head
stone, and stood unseen by him.
1t was man who bore upon hIm the
marks of four score years, if grief, in
deed, had not mingled in the account.
When he first met my sight, he was
standing beside an unsodden grave; as
he gazed downward upon the made hill
lock, a sigh burst from his bosom, tina!
told how much he yielded to death.
And this ALL said the old mani all
that youth promised and manhood labor
ed for. From among the host of those
who shared my blood, stand solitary
and time smtten, upon the grave of the
last Of my children-and there was none
to save her upon whom my life rested.
My hand, paisied with grief and age,
closed her eyes; with tears and prayers
dismissed her spirit, when mine should
have beckoned her up to her kindred en-
joymcnt.'
Il have called you, my child, in The
the silence Of night; and the echoes Of
my voice have told me am chidldess
| have gazed around upon the crowd
but it is peopled solitude; there is no
eye to bless memo tongue to call me
father. Why am l doomed to breathe
to walk forth among men, without fell
owshp in their feelings; why, when the
sun shines upon, without warming my
frame-why do not his beams rest upon
the sod above me, while sleep uncon.
scous of bitterness and wo?' .
The mourner fell forward upon the
grave before him; and as he exhibited
no sign Of life, | approached him; His
frame, which had lost some Of its height
by bending over the grave, now exhibit
ed all Of manly mould and strength,
that years of grief had spared His hat
had fallen from his head, and his grey
| locks were strewed around, as if tenn
pest had swept them. l spoke--but he
returned no answer. There appeared
a sacredness in his grief, upon which,
for worlds, would not have intruded.
| therefore, waited-but no movement
from the being before me, gave token
Of life. advanced, and touched him
he testified no sense of my presence. l
stopped, and turned his face from the
ground but no change Of features in.
dicated life, and the fixed glossiness of
his eyes, seemed to say that he had
passed tho frution Of his wishes.
Raising his body, placed myself OIL
my knees by his side, and with some
exertions induced symptoms of return
ing life. The freshness of the morning
breeze aided my cxertions, and warmth
and motion once mole visited his limbs.
As his eyes gathered back the light,
they rested upon the grave before him,
and conscious Of his situation retur-
ned. "You have Witnessed my unman-
ly complaints, and seen me give up all
to SORROW" said he. l intimated that
entered the yard before him-but had
observed him with painful sympathy.
"Then you have known afflction.' u
said he.
pointed to early grey hairs and a
furrowed brow. The sufferer gave my
hand a convulsive grasp, and slight
flush tha. had suffused his face, passed