The Evansville daily journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ia. [i.e. Ind.]) 1848-1862, 1859-05-24
Oak Hill Cemetery.

Oak Hill Cemetery.
There are times when we become weariea
with the sight of human faces; when the
noise and hustle of the city CRATE harshly on
the ear; when we feel an inward yearning
for some quiet spot where we may rest IN Sc
clusion, undisturbed and alone. IheSe are
the times when our souls are jaundiced, our
physical organization disordered. Every
thing seems wrong, and we regard the
whole world as being altogether bad.
Such feelings are best overcome by being
humored. Like wayward children, at times,
they are easier conquered by indulgence
than by opposition. To any of our friends
feeling thus, we would say, visit Oak Hill
Cemetery-that beautiful sleeping place of
our dead. and view it-as we did-some love-
ly afternoon, clothed in the bright habili-
ments of spring. The memory of our visit
refreshes us yet.
!. was clear day, not cloud was wish
bic TO dim the radiance of the sun, which
tipped the forest leaves Win silver, deep
ened the blush of the rose, energized the
song of the bird--as it basked in its genial
rays-and all nature seemed to throb with
JOY beneath his kindling glances. A cool
breeze tempered the heat of the sun just
sufficient to make it pleasant and sung a
mournful strain away among the trees-a
requiem in anticipation of the decay that
would come upon all this beauty. The tall
grass moved to and fro in the breeze like
waves of sparkling water. No one could
be indifferent to snch beauty, and we felt a
soothing influence creeping over us and
driving out the harpies of discomfort that
were preying upon our happiness.
Seated by the grave of loved one, recol-
lections of the past crowded upon us, and
we reveled in joys of other days, until IN
hidden tears dimmed our eyes and recalled
the present. How strange, yet true We
most generally linger around the bright
spots of the past and the future, and only
hug to our bosoms the dark ones Of the
present. Our enjoyments are nearly all
prospective or retrospective. The present is
always disagreeable. We rarely see any
one who is happy no,c.
1t has been said that death puts an end
to all earthly distinctions. II is not so with
the habitations of the dead. How easy-as
you wander among the tombs-to pick ont
the resting places of those who were rich in
this worlds goods. We have fancied we
could even pick out the narrow homes of
these who were "loved much while living,
and remembered most when dead. Flowers
those beautiful tributes of earthly affec-
tion-sweetly bloom above their heads, sa-
luting the beholder with a delightful frag-
rance, like the incense of pure life, and
seem to say planted by affections hand
dead but not forgotten
We cannot close without mentioning Mr..
Goodge, the attentive sexton. To his skill
and labor the Cemetery owes most Of its
beauty. The amount of hard work neces-
sary to keep it in order is not always appre-
ciated as it should be by those who own lots.
We are sure, however, that there are none
of our citizens but what take just pride in
the beauty of the grounds, and who will not
concede it to be the result of Mr.. Goodge'S
honest efforts. We noticed only one thing
that needed improvement; that was the
road up the hill 1t is a matter of inpossi
bility to keep il in thorough repair solong n,
it remains in its present condition. Every
rain makes it worse. We trust the City
Council will not let it mar the beauty o.
the grounds much longer by its imperfec
TONS but will have it thoroughly repaired
Some other time we may urge the pro
priety of opening new road from the city
to the Cemetery, with some of the ad
vantages resulting therefrom.