Southern sentinel. [volume] (Plaquemine, Parish of Iberville [La.]) 1848-1858, 1850-12-28
TIE Graves Of those we Love.
By WASHINGTON IRVING

By WASHINGTON IRVING.
The grave is the ordeal of true affection. 1t il
there the divine passion Of the soul manifests ts
superiority to the instinc; i've impulse of mere
animal attachment. The latter must be coMin.
ually refreshed and kept alive BY the presence
of its object, but tho love that is seated in the
soul can live on long remembrance. The moIe
inclinations Of sense, anguishing and declining
with the charms which excite them, tnrn with
shuddering and disgust from The dismal pre-
einets of the tomb; but it is thence that truly
spiritual affection rises purified from every sen-
sual desire, and returns, like holy fame, to H.
umine and sanctify the heart Of the survivor
| The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow
from which we refuse to be divorced Every
other would we seek to heal--eyery other attic
| ton to forget; but this wound we consider it
duty to keep open-the afiliction We cherish
and brood over in solitude. Where 10 the moth
| er who would willingly forget the infant that
perished like blossom from her arms, though
every recollection is pang? Where is tie
mother who would willingly forget the most
tender Of parents, though to remember be but
TO lament? Who, even in the hour of agony
would forge. the friend over which he mournsl
Who, even when the tomb is closing upon tho
remains OF her he most loved when he feels his
heart, as it were, crushed in the cosing Of its
portal, would accept Of consolation that must
be bought by forgefulness. No; the love which
survives the tomb is one Of the noblest attn.
butes Of the soul. lfit has woes. it likewise has
its delights; and when tho overwhelming burst
of griefis calmed into the gentle tear Of recol-
lection--when the sudden anguish and the con.
vulsive agony is over the present ruins Of all
that we most loved, is sottened away into PEN
siye meditation on all that it was in the days Of
its loveliest--who would root out such sor.
row from the heart Though it may sometimes
throw passing cloud over the bright hour of
gaiety, or spread deeper sadness over the
hour of gloom, yet who would exchange i, even
for the song of pleasure Or the burst OF reyelry!
No; there is voice from the tomb sweeter than
song There is a remembrance Of the dead, to
which we turn even from the charms of the liz.
ing. Oh, tie grave = 1t buries every error
covers every defect, extinguishes every resent
ment! From its peaceful bosom springs none
but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who
can look down upon the grave even Of mn enc
my, and not feel compunctive throb, that no
had ever warred with the poor handful Of earth
that lies mouldering before him.
But the grave Of those we loved-what
place Of meditation! There is it that we cal up
in long review the whole history ofvirtue and
gentleness, and the thousand endcarments Law
ished upon us almost unheeded in the daily in
tercourse Of intimacy; there it is that the ten.
derness Of the parting scene, the bed OF death!
with all its silcd griefs its noseless attendance.
mails Of expiring love! the feeble, futtering.
hand! the last fond look Of the glazing eye tur-
frara <bo bnlt pf
tcnce. the faint faltering accents, struggling in
death, to give one more assurance OF affection.
Ay, 60 to the grave Of buried love and medi.
tate! There settle the account with thy con.
science for every past benefit unrequitcd. every
past endearment unregarded, Of that departed
being who can never-never return TO DO sooth-
ed by thy contrition.
Ifthou art child, and hast ever added a sor-
row to the soul, or furrow to the silver brow
ofan affectionate parent-if thou art Il husband,
and has ever caused the fond bosom that has
ventured its whole happiness in thy arms TO
doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth
If thou art friend. and hast every wronged
in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that
generously co.fided in theft thou art lover,
and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that
true heart which now lies cold and still beneath
thy feet, then be sure that every unkind look.
every ungracious word, every ungen,le action.
willeome thronging back upon thy memory. and
knocking dolefully at thy soul--then be sure
that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repen-
tant, on the grave, and utter the unheard groan,
and pour the unavailing tear-more deep, more
bitter, because unheard and unaYailing.
Then weave the chaplet Of flowers, and strew
the beauties Of nature about the grave; console
thy broken spirit, If thon canst with those ten
der yet fertile tributes Of regret. and take war
ming BY the bitterness of this, thy contri'e afiic
ton over the dead, and henceforth be more
faithful and affectionate in the discharge OF thy
duties to the living.