Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1851-06-26

ur;u IS Ine only sur
row from which we refuse to be divorced
Every other would we seek to heal-every
other affliction to forget; but this wound we
consider it duty to keep open-the afilic.
tions we cherish and brood over in solitude
Where is the mother who would willingly
forget the infant that perished like blossom
from her arms, though every recollection is a
pang? Where is the daughter who would
willingly forget the most tender of parents
though to remember be but to lament! Who,
even in the hour of agony would forget the
friend over whom he mourns? Who, when
the tomb is closing upon the remains Of her
most loved-when he feels his heart, rs it
were, crushed in the closing of its portal
would accept consolation that must be bought
by forgetfulness? No, the love which sur
wives the tomb is one of the noblest attri-
butes of the soul. If ii has woes, it likewise
has its delights and when the overwhelming
burst of grief is calmed in the gentle tear of
rccollection-when the sudden and convul-
sive agony is over-the present ruin Of all
that we most loved is softened away into
pensiye meditation on all that it was in the
days of its loveliness. Who would root out
such sorrow from the heart? Though it
may sometimes throw passing cloud over
the bright hour Of gayety, or spred deeper
sadness over the hour of gloom, yet would
we not exchange it for the song Of pleasure
or the burst of revelry? No. there is q
voice from the tomb sweeter than song
There Is n remembrance Of the dead to which
we turn even from the charms Of the living.
Oh, the grave? 1t buries every defect-ex-
tinguishes every resentment. Promits peace
full bosom springs none but fond regret and
tender recollection. Who can look upon the
grave even of m enemy. and not feel COM
punctivc throb that he had ever warred against
the poor handful of earth that lies moulder-
ing before him.
But the grave Of those we love-what
place of meditation There it is that we
call up in long review the whole history of
virtue and happiness, and the thousand en-
dearments lavished upon us almost unheeded
in the daily intercourse Of intimacy; the ten
derness of the parting scene the bed of death,
with all its stifed griefs, its noiseless atten-
dance, its mute, watchful assduities-the last
testimonials of expiring love-the feeble; fut-
teriDg, thriIling-oh, how thrilling pres
sure Of the hand-the faint, faltering ac-
Cehte, SIoESIIiS Ill ueaiLii W give olie hioEe
assurance Of affection
Ay, 60 to the grave of buried love and
meditatel There settle the account with
thy conscience for every benefit unrequited,
every erdearment unregarded, of that de-
parted being who can nevcr-never return to
be soothed by thy contrition.
If thou art child, and hast ever added a
sorrow to the soul or furrow to the silver
brow Of an affeetionate parent-R thou art
husband and hast ever caused the fond BOSOM
that has ventuscd its whole happiness in thy
arms to doubt one moment of thy kindness
and truth-if thou art friend who hast ever
wronged, in thought or word, or deed, the
spirit that generously con6ded in thee; If
thou art lover, and hast ever given one un-
mcrited pang to that heart that now lies cold
and stiff beneath thy feet; then be sure that
every unkind look, every ungracious word,
every ungentle action will come throncinp
back upon the memory and knock dolefnlly
upon the soul; then be sure thou wilt lie
down sorrowing and repenting on the grave,
and utter the unheard groan, and pour the
unavailing tear, more deep, more bitter, be-
cause unhcard and unaraiing.