The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1869-07-13
CORTLAND
Republican Nominations.
FOR GOvERSOR
JOSHUA L. CHAMBERLAIN,
OF BRUNSWICK.
Rnndom Letters.
From Rowing Correspondence
SUBURBAN GRAvEYARDS.
OF BRUNSWICK.


SUBURBAN GRAvEYARDs.
BosroN, July 0, 1869.
sYou Americans" said foreign friend to
me the other day, "are an astonishing people
You think so little of the accident of death
that you actually make pleasure grounds Of
your graveyards. All, well! Chacun son
goat. The shrug with whick ne concluded
was an eloquent expression cf his distaste for
what he seemed to think very lugubrious
preference on our part.
lido not know that the idea was ever pre-
sented to me before, but think the habit Of
visiting cemeteries for pleasure Is peculiar
ly American one. The fact that we have no
extensive parks and gardens in the neighbor-
hood of most of our towns and cities only
partially explains it, for that fact is in itself
result Of our feeling in this respect. II we had
wanted the parks and gardens more than the
beautiful cemeteries, we should have had
them instead. 1t lis the natural outgrowth of
q sentiment in regard to the dead at once
or town among Us, scarcely village of any
size, but has 1t pleasant garden of graves,
laid out and tended with faithful care, and
constantly frequented through all the sum-
mer season by stream of visitors. We have
not inherited this habit from our English an
cestors, for our cousins across the water have
a very different way of doing things. The old
idea, bequeathed by the .Romish to the Eng
lish Church, that the dead sleep better in
ground consecrated by the priest, has led to
the practice of huddling their remains togeth-
er within very narrow limits, and has sur
rounded their resting-places with much that
Is gloomy and painful. The great families
have their private tombs, often in the dark
vaults beneath the pavement of ancient
churches, where dusty tablets on the walls
above set forth their virtues and their long
descent, but where no sunshine ever comes,
where no green leaves rustic and no birds
sing. The common people lie without, in
.weedy and neglected churchyards, avoided
by the living with superstitious dread, but
happier, even there, than their great neigh
bors in that the sun can shine and the rain
and dews distill kindly influences above their
beds.
But was much pleased to observe that my
foreign friends distaste for what he called our
"iunereal pleasure grounds was not able to
survive summer afternoon stroll through
the winding alleys and peaceful groves of
Mount Auburn. aSweet Auburn, loveliest"
city of the dead-if may be allowed thus
barbarously to paraphrase Goldsmith-is
enough to convert any one. There the dark
shining foliage of the ancient oaks mingles
with the light-leaved ash and feathery locust
tree. Sombre pines alternate with blossom
ing lindens. In the dusky thickets, here and
there, the heaped-up blossoms of the rhodo-
dendron glow with roseate splendor. At ey-
cry turn you come upon little quiet lakes
fringed round with dropping willows. White
swans float serenely ON the water; airy foun-
tains leap upward to the sunshine and fall in
rainbow spray; flowers bloom everywhere
everywhere, through the foliage, CLEAN, white
and fair, the monuments and memorials OF
the dead; birds sing on every bough, but
their tender, happy songs do not seem to mar
the blessed stiffness which hovers like a bene-
diction of peace around. Birds, rainbows,
fowers-all beautiful and cheerful things
are here brought together to make sweet and
fair the last resting-place of the dead. Few
very few-are the sorrowing hearts whose
gloom is not lghtened somewhat by these
tender and gracious ministries.
Though Mount Auburn stands first in The
affections of old Bostonians, it has for the new
generation, formidable rival in eForest
Hills" The latter cemetery has the advan-
tage of much greater variety in Its scenery !;
and there is brightness and cheerfulness
about the place which to many is more at
tractive than the pensive beauty of Mount
Auburn. Either is lovely enough to furnish
resting-place to which the tired traveller in
this dusty highway of the world could look
forward with content and pleasure.
One of the most pleasing of the rural GEM
eteries in the vicinity of this city is Wood
lawn" 1t Is especially attractive from its
broad sweeps and extensive views, the grouud
stretching away in wide green lawns, or OPEN
ing in alk-like glades and long, stately ave-
nues. Art has here united with nature in
her grander mood, and the result is an i'm
preston of largeness and freedom not COM
mon in places of the kind. One lot, some
what apart from the rest, particularly attrac-
ted my attention. 1t was not neglected, but
it was plain that louing hands had not been
there, only the de cent reverence which all
the dead have right to claim from us. The
graves were numerous, but many of them
were wholly nameIess. 1t was aThe Stran-
gers lot"
But there is one burial-place which have
lately seen which interests me more, perhaps,
than any of these which art loves to deco
rate and affection to visit. 1t Is in the old
town of Sherburne, not quite score of miles
from this city, and few perhaps know of its
existence. 1t is an ancient graveyard, so long
disused that over its sunken graves an or
chard has been planted whose trees have had
time in their turn to grow old and fall into
decay. Strolling under the gnarled, worm
eaten boughs, your feet, tangliDg in the long
grass, are apt to stumble over some sunken
mound or fallen or broken stone, placed there
so long age that the very memory Of them
has nearly died out of the minds of the pres
ent generation. On one of these, rudely
split slab of dark slate, / read the name of
Patience White, wife of" - the husbands
name was blurred with lichens-"died Oct.
10. $780," Only ten years after the landing
at Plymouth! Think Of the changes since
that humble grave was made. Think of the
wide unbroken wilderness which came up to
the very windows through which the dying
eyes Of Patience White looked their last on
earth. catch myself wondering, when 1
think of her, whether the good woman is
cognizant of all that has since happened up
on this new continent which she was one of
the first to tread, and if so whether it sur
prises her any.
But this is leading me into somewhat deep
water. Adieu for the present. ZNaARA.
The Coming Eclipse
The coming total eclipse of the sun, which
will occur the 7th Of August next, is the only
one since 1884 which could be observed In
any considerable portion OF the country, and
no other total eclipse will be visible in Amer
d,,, ~. - "a oouf,Irv Az