Weekly Trinity journal., 1862-11-01
~ u1llbCr 42.

preserving silence upon the occurrence, at pres
ent as being likely to create the most poignant
and uuavaling regrets in the bosoms of the nu
merous surviving relatives of the unfortunate
deceased--a suggestion which | have the happ
ness ot believing was so far followed as to pre-
vent the unfortunate consequences apprehended
in making it-I advised the sexton to restore the
remains with decency to the tomb, and to leave
all as it was, apparently, to the eye OF those
who we're unacquanted with the terrible truth.
This was done-the new tenant, for whom this
terrible opening had been made, was deposited
in that sad receptacle on the same day, and the
seal of that tomb has never since been broken.
As / next walked out Of the churchyard, how
! full was my mind of coniectures aud imagn-
! ings as to the fate of the unfortunate person,
whose remains after fifteen years confinement in
the cold and dismal tomb, had just fallen, rs il
supplicating for release, at my feet The sexton
had informed me that the last person buried there
was lady, of about twenty-five years OF age,
who was married year prior to her decease,
aud whose death was thought at the time to have
been occasioned by some disease of the heart,
supcrinduced by the manner of dressing. And
ththcr she had been carried during temporary
suspension of animation. from all the cheerful
ness of her once happy home, where she was sur
rounded by smiling faces, and every charm that
could render domestic life q continuous scene of
joy and sunshine-to the cold, drcary vaults OF
charne housed Oh what II waking must have
been hers Confined within the narrow limits of
colfn-arrayed in the robes of the dead-the
companion OF the mouldering dust of the de-
parted-doomcd to slow, lingering, miserable,
perhaps maddened death Methought, IA
wen: on my musing way, methought could see
her. with almost superhuman energy bursting
open her horrible prison, aud tearing of the re-
voting ccrements in which she had been wrap
ped and applying herself to the iron door OF her
living tomb, attempted to break it from its
hinges screaming, the while in agony, for sue
cor-alas alas how vainly? Those crowded
streets full of gay and laughing beings, many of
whom had bcen her once familiar friends; the
costly dwellings standing around, even within
sight Of her wretched dungeon, and resounding
with all the varied tones that hetoken happiness
and good cheer could not her voice, once so
welcome in those streets aud in those halls, now
penetrate them aud bring relief to her, whose
ightcst wish once all flew with alacriiy to graft
fly? All, not The sun shone brightly upon all
the guy scene around, yet shed no ray to enltven
that dark prison house. The flowers were spring
ing over her very head, and the summer breezes
were blowing bnlmy among the waving trees,
whose branches kissed the very sod that covered
her drenry abode Yet not scent of the violet,
nor breath Of the zrphyr conld reneh her.
pacing in bitter agony the narrow hoor oil her
living tomb Friends were mourning her in their
sad home, made desoate by her departure
! Music had lost for them all charms, because her
voice, which had alone TO them seemed music,
was mute The blue sky the warm sun, the
balm breathing air, the pale stars, the silver
moon. the song of birds-all, all had lost their
brightness their soitness, aud their beauty now
for them for she was not there to share and to
embrace those once cherished delights. But
where was she the whilo-and on what were all
her thoughts intent. this soft aud delicate one
the chosen and cherished, the lost and lamented.
Of so many fond and faithful hearts Separated
from them, and from life, and happiness, only by
few feet of earth-struggling to free herself
~
to rash into their bereaved and despairng
bosoms, passed by daily without concern by
hundreds who once loved aud still mourned her !
The living lying down with the dead Ian
gushing, starving, sitting, among the nosome
vapors of charne house The buried, yet the
quicls
What a lesson writ on the great page of lies
constantly unfolding volume And yet, stranger,
| doubt you have read it less as a lesson than US
legend !--.N o. Picgupe.