Litchfield enquirer., 1834-10-16
Nrom fhs Psakst AnnusI tar lsSS
MOUNT AUBURN.


 "Let us go out to Mount Auburn" says some one Of the gay party, just stepping lnto their vehicles or mounting their horses; aud away they dash. full of life, and health, and beauty, to visit the mansions of Death. where be seems to reign in his most elaborate and solemn magniRcence. reminding us> as they sweep by. to make a sober jest with the hoe of the poet
 "The pa,hs of glory lead but to the grave"
 |" Let US ride to Mount Auburn" says the ea- awye, rising from dinner with the prospect of a long afternoon before him; and forth they go. 10 rid themselves of time, among the final hOmes of those who have exchanged it fUr E. ternity. "Let us gu out to the Cemetery" whispers the wife to the husband. as sOme lingering sunset is softening into twilight. half dOabting lest he should check the wish, which he knows to spring from a mothers heart; but he yields to the request, and they visit the grave of their child, to strew few flow CTS upon its new enclosure. "You must go out to Mount Auburn with Us, this afternOon," says the citizen to the stranger: and thither they gu, too. to talk learnedly of obelisks and monuments, national taste, Westminster Ab- -bey, and Pere La Chaise. Reader, let as go too but let Us walk, nor drive up in dusty splendor to the crowded gateway, tossing our Feins to the keeper as we would tO the Ostlsr Ofa tavern. .'.r. And Yet, notwithstanding all that some- times ofends the taste before you, enter. in spite of the iDcengruity of ideas. which the crowd of vehicles and the looks of the riders will excite, when you are once within the en- closure. Fashion and the World. and Gdiety, and SPlcndOr, are soon forgotten. Standing on the dark groves, where the broken light falls down through the opening of the trees, and singularly possessed by the wonderful stiffness of the place, the most distinguished air and the most fashionable tournure will pass unnOticed, when you would have turned tO gaze, had you met them in the street. The visitors, too. one and al, no matter what their mood when they reached the gateway, are at once sObered and subdued, as soon as they have passed under those gathering shades. You shall see a young lady leap from the car riage. laughing in all the luxury of youth and health, and revelling in some jest which has been started; and when you pass her in an avenue, or meet her on the bill, she will be lost in contemplation, and forget to Yetuln your ciyilities, if you should not yOurselfhe too abstracted to offer them. Stil the influence Ofthe place is not a melancholy or a sadden- ing influence; it is better-it is expansive and nature, and thus breaking the force of any passionate expressions of affliction, which may be ready to burst forth. and uniting the great idea of death in general, with images and ob. jects which are not shadOwy and hard to grasp. but before US, around us, and familiar. We never go in there, without feeling the deep philosophy of the sentiment which Shakes peare has putinto the mouth fTimon, when he makes him say, that he will make
 His everlasting mansion
 Upon she beeched verge of the sal' flood;
 Which once day with his embossed irolh
 The turbulent surge shall covert
 thus expanding an individual feeling into the vastness and extent of the ocean itself, and depriyilg it of ils bitterness by connecting it with the most magnificent imsgein in nature.- We think. indeed, that no one can g0 in there end give himself up to the spirit of the place, without feeling something of this expansion- this breaking away from the narrow localities of the dismal church yard, and difusing the thoughts over space that admits and embra. ces greater sympathies with the creation.- The moment the feelings are concentrated. if the subject be ourselves or our own griefs, that moment they are cramped; and when we dwell upon the confined and ordinary hab. i,ations' of the dead. with no images of beauty or usagniacence to lead away the thoughts from decay and corruption. we are borne down by our fee|iogs of grief. and disgust, 8UU UaBrOWtUS oOtTVW SOi 'nO u00us Out IU these beautiful pleasure. grounds of Death. there is every thing nsedful to rob it of it's terrOrs, while the place of the deposited re. mains is sufficiently indicated and exact, to give the E.eiings spot on which to dwell.- We never lose a certain sort OfsyMpathy for the dead, which arises from placing ourselves iu their situation and imagining-strange sol. ecism but actually one which we cOmmit-1 imagining kotp they feet. If they are sunk be- meath the ocean's wave, we follow them down into those all invisible depths, where living man never has approached and never can. If, as with the ancents. their bodies are cOnsum- ed, we stri-e to go in thought with each atom to the elements into which it is resolved; and | when, at last, the resulting dust is gathered Up. we would fain fatter ourselves that all is concentrated there. Ifthey are placed in the common grave, we think. painfully, indeed, and with averted eyes, on the work of dissO- tuition. Wherever they so, whatever dispo- sition is made, thither we 60 with them, in l walking hours and in dreams; and if any thing | can be done to beautify the spot, it is aO much l taken from the cold, repulsive. cheerless con- dition, in which our feelings are ever present. ing thRsN Co us. The history of sepulehval archieeeture and funeral clstOuss has here q deep e01ndaiion in the necessities of our ma tore and condition. We cannot bear that the transition should bs % sadden and complete, as it is in its original, unadorned. and simple state. We would make the dead to "stay a little lOnger.n by surrounding them with things which raaliy belong to this world, but which aum kmw ~n~a,-m MkmH3A ASN Ahu