The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1853-05-19
A Grave in the Forest.

our Journey, which lay, often for miles,
through the beautiful Oak Openings,
for which this State is so celebrated. Not
unfrequently within an hours ride we
would see several beautiful lakes, and
cross one Or more rapid streams. 1t was
almost impossible to believe that these
Openings had not been laid out by some
skillful gardener, with an eye to the most
exquisite rural taste and effect, and |
could not diyest myself of the idea, that
we should come upon some lordly man
sion, for the occupant Of which so much
beauty had been created. Here the road
wound through a quiet dcll-there as
cending gentle slope-yonder ran along
the brow of an undulating hill, with a
wild rayine on one side, and all around
were stately trees, arranged in picturesque
groups or standing singly in just the right
place; while shining in the distance, or
close at hand, with grass margin or peb-
bly, beach, lay one Of those bright lakes,
mirroring in its depths, the noble trees
growing on the gradually sloping hill
sides around it; or sometimes the opposite
shore reflected the dark shadow Of the
forest that lay upon that side, while bevies
of ducks were splashing and diving among
the snowy and golden lilies that dotted
the 'silvery sheen far out from its border,
Lost in admiration of the beauty by
which we were surrounded, on winding
round swell of land, our attention was
arrested by seeing beneath the shadowfoi
some noble oaks, little grave. Miles
away from any settlement, there, in the
lonely forest, had some mourning mother
laid her darling down in its last sleep =
Why was the little grave made there p
was it for the babe of some emigrant who
had sickened and died on its wearisome
journey? There was no one to answer
There was the little mound, surrounded
by a low picket, and each pulse of my
heart yibrated with sympathy for the mo,
ther who had left her loved one there !
Sad indeed, must be her heart, when she
thinks of her babes grave, far off in the
wild woods, with no loving eye to watch
over it-no gentle hand to lay there an
offering of sweet flowers! F! 1t did at first
seem sorrowful that a little infant { for the
grave was very SMALL, should be left
alone in that solitude The low, sweet
notes of bird fell upon my ear, and
aroused me from so melancholy rehec-
ton; and, as | looked around upon the
stately columns of trees, hung with the
gorgeous drapcry of autumn, and listened
to the soft cadences of the wind sighing
among their branches, md anon swelling
in rich volume through those wide arcades,
or pealing triumphant anthem, thought
there was a monument prince might en-
Wy! Cheer thee, sorrowing mother. He
who took little children and blessed them,
sanctifed as well the grave of thy babe, as
that of the more favored child of fortune,
who sleeps in consecrated ground. And
surely, that is consecrated ground-rure
and fresh as it came from the Creators
hand, uncontaminated by the arts Of
man! What prouder mausoleum could
be raised? There are the grand old trees
for columns, the dome of Gods own
arching, the rich tracery chiselled by his
unerring hand In the sweet spring
time, what delicate and exquistely-
wrought drapery is hung from amid those
arches? In the bright summer. it is
deepened into q dark, rich curtain, to
shade that sacred spot from the suns
scorching rays; then the autumnal frosts,
with magic touch, paint it in colors which
human pencil can family initiate! Later,
when those gorgeous hues have faded,
and the sombre drapery has fallen in frag-
ments to the earth, the wintry tempest
sounds a requiem through those naked
arches then, again, in the long, still
nights of mid-winter, the mist from the
near rushing river, like incense from some
holy altar, rises through the keen, frosty
air, and the morning sun discloses,arseeae
of bewildeFlng magnifcence u Column,
capital and @re9fitrave, are studded and
inlaid with gems too brilliant to look up
on. From each point and projection, are
hung gracefully swinging cords and gilt
tcring tasscls, and clusters and knots of
ambient jewels, cleaning and flashing in
the mornings rays, while the air is filled
as with a shower of tiniest gems The
pavement of snowy crystals is bestudded
with diamonds, and the little grave CLEANS
pure and white in the sunlight! Cheer
thee, then, sorrowing mother The All
Seeing Eye watches over that dear spot
His hand lies there, springs first sweet
violet, and when the dark, cold night of
death fell over thy babe, the sun of His
love soon dispersed that night, and its
spirit awakened to the glorious day in
which there is no more night forever"