The Grand Haven news. [volume] (Grand Haven, Mich.) 1858-18??, 1862-03-05
A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

The town clock had just proclaimed it to
all who had ears TO hear and the wish 10
listen. l had been to the theatre. II
was interesting, and l had stayed to the
end. was some little distance out Of
town, and on my way homeward my steps
led me past one of the city cemeteries
AT the spot stopped unintentionally, or
perhaps my thoughts caused me to pause.
1t was beautiful summers night, and l
took things generally easy.
had ever been fond of testing my own
courage, merely for my own benefit-my
own confidence, my experience. What a
lucky chancel A graveyard at black
midnight! Were the gates lockedl No.
| entered. 1t was here that my poor pa
rents wero buried; here lay the last NOR
tai remains of those l once so dearly
loved and respected. | had very often
visited and knelt by their graves before
by the quiet homes of the dead
mourning in melancholy silence my loss
and bereavement, but never before had
approached at night.
Was l timid-fearful9 Why, no; there
was nothing 10 fear. was no coward,
though l could not help noticing how
gloomy, how very lonely and sad-looking,
everything before me appeared. | pass
ed on-on through the lone path, by the
side of tho dropping willow-on past the
white row of tombstones and raised
mounds, to my parents graves.
l walked with firmer step and quieter
nerve than l had expected, though the
idea of my situation caused me to shud.
der perceptibly once in while; and here
| beg you to remember that with the
stoutest and bravest of hearts there has
been a time of similar sensation. Not
fear, nor cowardce; l would not style il
that, but rather nervousness, deep feeling,
sensitiveness.
sat down on my mothers grave, and
gazed about my singular position. A
cool night. Fast fleeting black clouds
overhead, indicating rain, breaking now
and then over the star-studded sky, cast.
ing gloomy shadows along through the
rows of graves. The bright moon, now,
perhaps damped of its brilliancy, half hid
behind the racing clouds, would some
times shoot out of its shrouds, and cast q
bright stream of light on the weary earth
chasing the retreating shadows before it
and running up to my very feet. Their
again would it sink in the surrounding
clouds, and the long shadows, creeping
over the silent ground, like specters, add.
ed strange, weird aspect to the scene
While the low, inspiring winds, gently
waiting through the full-leaved trees, wo'd
make sound like that of dropping rain
To be solitary visitor of such place
and at such time, was not n very desir
able luxury; and | remember when, il
my early childhood, should have shud
dered at the very idea of it.
Very naturally my thoughts became
directed TO those who had passed before
me from this life to that of eternity. A:
is generally the case with one deep il
thought, my eyes became riviLed on on,
spot, some little distance in trout of me
across the path, where 1 saw, by din
moonlight, a new made gravo-anothe
tenement TO the final, the universal rest
ing-place. That it was poor person who
who had been buried there, Judged by
its situation. Yes, indeed, wealth anC
poverty follow to the tomb, retaining thei
outward mark of distinction even there.
Perhaps l would not have noticed it
But was it fancy-was it rcalityG saw
something move upon it. l cautiously
rose and approached. What caught M
eyes? A bundle of rags, and two littl
bare feet, stretched across the mound.-
A child sobbing-mournfully sobbing.-
l advanced and touched the little speci
men of humanity on the shoulder.
With q shiver and start he jumpe,
to his feet, and turned his fearful, sorrow
ing face toward me. Frightened and an
CRY at this interruption, he attempted t
escape.
"Stop, my little fellow" said l, in a