Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1863-05-15
FOR TIE SENTINEL
FOR THE SENTINEL.
A FEW MOMENTS AMONG THE
DEAD.

DEAD.
&C Yet cen these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With unoouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture
/ decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh"
TWAS my pleasure this morning, whilst
brushing with hasty steps the dew away"
to pause for moment at the grave yard
of Est. Mary's" church. It is bcauti-
full and sacred spot; beautiful in its So
lemnity, sacred from surrounding associ-
atoms, and the chosen place for calm and
holy reflection.
The early riser, fond of viewing nature
when the sun FIRST comes to greet it, and
the balmy air of spring, ladened with the
perfumes of unseen garden spots around,
should leave the habitations of the living
when the mind is refreshed by sleep, and
devote few heeting moments midst the
/ graves of the dead There are no les
sons taught more wholesome than the
teachings of the silent grave; there is
no voice that appeals more directly to the
heart, than that which speaks from the
tomb. From the little moss-covered
mound, decked with the humble violet
that rears its head to meet the rising sun.
to the stately pile whose crumbling dust
mingles with the ashes of the patriarch,
each grade in life, which here finds rest
beneath the sod, inculcates its own spe-
cial lesson.
Touching, indeed, are the tributes of
affection to the memory of departed dear
ones But, apart from the sensations
which are thus produced, the mind seri-
ously turns to the contemplation of lifes
brevity-the folly of ambition, save the
offspring of holy aspirations the vanity
of the world, its pomp and show. The
very silence seems to breathe in whis-
pers of dust thou art, and unto dust
thou shalt return" and whilst the gaze
rests upon the quiet little village beneath,
the mind naturally takes a retrospection
Of the past, or spcculates upon the hopes
of the dim uncertain future. Every
thing in nature has its hour of doom
The fairest flowers Of earth bloom and
fade-the loftiest trees, the pride and
beauty of the virgin forest, and the birth
of unknown centuries, are left naked
from the effects of the bowling storm, or
shattered into atoms before the thunder.
bolt; the little twnkling stars, that
deck the blue-arched temple, die out one
by one; all things must perish En-
pires, which have swayed the world, are
rocked into fragments midst the clamor
of revolutions, leaving, their record with
the historian; cities, which have become
the chief emporium Of nations, waste
away beneath the corroding toothof time,
and their ruined arches and crumbling
and blaekened walls, are all that is left
Of their former greatness and grandeur
and man, their architect, he too falls un-
der the iIfrmities of old age, or the ra-
wages Of disease, and tombstone marks
bis final resting place
And thou, fair little village, with thy
dwellings Of the rich and thy cabins of
the poor, rear no domcs in pride Time,
with noiseless tread, steals upon thee un-
awares; the hum of industry, which re-
sounds through thy streets, is music to
the Destroyer's car; It's a funeral song,
with which the world keeps measured
time, ever marching to the gravel Here,
then, is the end Of earth here, the re-
ward Of earthly ambition; "Dust to
dust, ashes TO ashes.p And
" Can storied urn, or animated bust.
Back to its mansion call the feeting breathe
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or hnttery soothe the dun cold car Of death ?" /