The Alleghanian. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1859-1865, 1860-09-06
From the Ne'O York Independent, lug. 23.l
The EHearse on the Mountain.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
One bright, still noon of last week. !
Death suddenly descended upon our noun |
tain, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. |
Our nearest neighbor, an old man of |
nearly seventy years, while harvesting, |
was thrown down by his horses and NOR
tally hurt by their trampling hoofs and
the heavy wheels of his wagon He was
lifted up and carried into his hourse, muir
muring, Lord have mercy on nv soul!'
Then some one dashed off at mad speed
for the doctor, who came, and to the Joy
Of friends and inbred, pronounced an
opinion that the injuries were not so Sc
rious as had been supposed, and that the
patient would soon recover and perhaps
be as hale and hearty as ever. For the
honor of science, the old faImer should
have rallied, but, like the poor mother of
little Paul Dombey, he proved to be not
equal to the effort. Exhausted by pain,
he fell into sleep, and did not wake
again. His kind old wife, who watched
over him, did not know when he ceased to
breathe, SO softly and imperceptibly had
life ebbed away in the profound calm of
that last earthly slumber
The priest came too late to bid the has
ting soul God-speed; it had gone forth
unaneled-had touched the eternal shore
with unanointed feet.
Yet surely not alone had it gone The
mercy of the Lord, SO humbly invoked in
the hour of EXTREMIST need, had not left
it companionless and forsaken Ali uncon-
scious, perchance, it had passed through
the mighty change from the mortal to the
mmortal-borne like a sleeping child in
the arms of a strong benignant angel,
through the valley Of shadows and :nys-
teries, and over the fearful river, to be
laid softly down in the "green pastures"
and beside the ''still waters" of the better
land.
In primitive country-pla:es people seem
to be in strange haste to 'bury their dead
out Of their sight" That hight there was
wake" in the brown farmhouse under
the hill, and the next day, hardly twenty
four hours from the time when news of
the fearful accident had struck a sudden
horror through our veins, we looked out
upon hearse slowly moving by, bearing
the tired old laborer home, from the har-
vest-felds he would reap pIno more. A long
procession followed that grim car of the
! great conqueror-country vehicles of ev-
cry description, and large number of
men and women on horseback. The aged
farmer had been much respected, and even
! in this busy harvest-time friends and
neighbors, for many miles around, had
| gathered to do honor to his honest mem
ory.
4 little below us, at cross-road, the
train paused, to say prayers-then crept
on, along the pleasant forest-way, up the
mountain, to the summit, where stands
the crOss-crowned church, and where in
its shadow lie clustered together an ever
| growing flock Of the faithful, through bal
my summers and stormy winters sleeping
the same deep, quiet sleep.
Strange it was that the passing of that
hearse, bearing by a stranger, whom We
had but looked upon casually once OIL
twice, in our walks, should suddenly have
clouded for US the ra diant heavens and
shadowed the smiling earth. Nature, but
a brief while before so joyous and glow
ing, in her sumptuous festive appareling
crowned with her summer beauty and
flashing with thousand ardent lights
seemed mysteriously to sympathize with
the sight. The regal quietude softeneC
into tender melancholy-the clouds o
heaven seemed brooding over the sorrow
full procession-the forest trees gave fortl
awe-struck murmurs as it passed-the tai
hemlocks bowed solemnly before it-th
, pines, those strange, sad trees, that on tn
wild sea-shore catch up the moan of tn
great deep, and pass it from mountain-toI
r to mountain-top around the world, seeme'
now to breathe a human pity in their fra
grant signs. All else was still-no wood
mans AK panied the religious silence G
the forest-scarce merry little bird Of
| Tended by the sweet heartlessness of ii
happy song,
e Up the long ascent it moved, that shaG
t ow of our mortal sorrow and perishabl
: earthly estate, that shadow of the dea
: mans hearse-along the way his feet ha
e often trod, past the spring over who's
, brink he may have often bent with thirs
e ing lip, past lovely green glades, moss
f banks, and fairy forests of waving fern
: on which his eye had often dwelt with
i vague and soft delight, and so passed o,
e of our view. But its memory went NJ
S out of our hearts that day.
n In this pure, healthful region, whel
nature seems SO unworn, so youthful an
vigorous-where dwell simplicity, humb
comfort, and quiet happiness, death hi