The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1867-03-20
Public Cemeteries in the South,
Written for the Democrat.

ers neglect our graveyards shanlefully, ana
we fear there is too much truth In the
accusation. With every advantage OF soil
climate, and natural beauty of situation it
is strange and sad truth that we'have no
Mount Auburns, no Greenwoods, no Laurel
t Hills to show. Why should this be SO! 1t
, surely cannot be that our people have less
respect and affection for their dead than
others-the warm Southern heart surely
does not heat less tenderly for the dear
memory of the loved and lost than the in
habitants Of colder elimes. 1t may be said
that since the r,linous war there is so little
money to bestow OH such objects; but then
this neglect of cur cemeteries is no new
thing--it has always been more or less the
case And besides it does not require
money to make trees spread their verdure,
or flowers shed their fragrance around a
grave. There is far more love and lasting
remembrance shown in carefully tended
flowers covering with bloom and beauty
the resting place Of the dead, than in fine
marble tombstones hidden with grass and
weeds. 1t has always seemed to strange
mode of testifying our regret tor our lost
dear ones to erect costly monument to
their memory, and let unsightly weeds and
bushes cover it, and veil its fiattering in
scriptions from every eye. Yet how
often is this the case We could point to
MANY within our limited knowledge where
sleep those who in life were the loved of
many hearts; yet now their last long home
is scarce distinguishable from the common
earth where cattle may Craze. and the
careless foot may tread without irreverence.
How strange that the living can so soon
forget the dead How strange that the
love which made the very sunshine OF our
lives, when it has once passed from the
sphere of our existence, can be so soon
buried amid the debris of broken hopes,
and disappointed ambitions, and frustrated
plans, which make up what we call the
Past! Though the love may be gone from
us forever, the memory of the love should
linser with lis still angel-like to warn us
from error, or comfort us in sorrow. But
this cannot be so when the graves that
hold the mortal part of those we loved are
so neglected. And now, if ever, it seems
TO us we should show attention to our cem-
eteries, when we have so many of our dead
heroes buried there to whose names we owe
all the devotion aud respect it is possible
to show.
Der all our land there's not wild wind
sweeps
But walls its requiem round someA onely
spot
Where rest ourdead- buried, but unforgot
| Few Of those many graves have any
mark of remembrance or regret attached
to them. We remember visiting a year
ago the battle-ground at Minden. 1t is
pretty, retired spot, for which Nature has
done much-Art very little. But the prin'
ciple point of interest to us was the num-
Der of Confederate graves. Side by side in
one long unbroken line, farther than the
eye could reach they stretched across the
enclosure-not name on one of them
nothing but straight stick driven down
at the head and foot to mark the spot
where rested the last hope Of some widow
ed mother, the cherished Benjamin Of some
white-haired patriarch, OF the staff and
STAY of some broken-hearted wife. At any
rate somebody's darling" lay in each Of
those warm mounds, and alas for her she
will never know which one.
On all those graves there's not single line
To tell fond friends Here the loved
dust reposes.'
In vain Affection seeks some spot to find
Where trembling hands may strew me-
mortal roses. Il
On all alike the long grass rustling waves,
I All look alike-th0se crowded naineless
graves.
We were told that during the Spring and
early Summer of "a there were many
troops camped in and around Minden; and
the place, always unhealthy, was peculiar
ly so that year; and fever became almost
an epidemic among them. Every day for
weeks the funeral bell tolled, and Tie an
swer to strangers inquiry, was always
the careless response Another soldier
! 10
dead" And so, after the perils Of the bat
tle-feld, the hardships of, the camp, and
the untold, unreliable sufferings of the, hos
pital were over, these true patriots, who
had risked and lost all for the love of
country, were rewarded by careless bu-
rial in a nameless grave, forgotten by all
except the few sad hearts to which each
one was bound by some tie of interest or
affection. And so in Mansfield, the spot
where SO many of ow hero.dead were gath
cred after that memorable field where the
rich red blood of patriot frcemen was pour
ed like summer rain, even there the same
neglect prevailed. Fences and gates bro
ken down-graves neglected and forlorn,
and cattle wandering at will through the
sacred precincts. We were told a horri-
BILE story when there, Of the hogs roofing
up some Of the dead bodies that were so
hastily inferred as to be scantily covered
with earth but, thank Heaven! they were
Yankees who died there after the battle,
and were buried by their own Surgeons
and Assistants.
But to come nearer home, what better
evidence can we have or want of the too
prevalent neglect of graveyards than the
deplorable condition of our own public
cemetery across the Rivera Its state of
dilapidation was shocking enough before
the havoc of war was added to the slower,
but not less sure, destruction of neglect
and decay. Now it reminds us of the ac-
counts we have read of tue debris of some
old ruined city whose broken columns and
grass grown streets speak eloquently Of the
eyanescent and perishab1e nature of mans
works. So otlr Metropolis, our city of the
dead, is wilderness Of grass, weeds, bro
ken tombstOnes, Wild briars. a0wntrodden