The Sumter watchman. [volume] (Sumterville, S.C.) 1855-1881, 1870-04-27

the instinotive impulse of mere auimal
attachment. The latter must be con.
tinually refreshed aud kept alive by the
presence of its object; but the love
that is seated in the soul oau live on
long remembrance. The mere iuoli-
nations Of sense languish land decline
with the charms which excited them,
and turn with disgnst from. the dismal
precincts of the tomb but it is thence
that truly spiritual Affection rises puri-
fed from every sensual desire, and
returns, like holy fame, to iliumine
and sanctify the heart Of the surviv-
| or.
The sorrow for the dead is the only
sorrow from which We refcss to be d.
vorced. Every other wound We seek to
heal, every other affliotion to forget {;
but this wound we consider it as duty
to keep open,-this affliotion We cher
ish, and brood over in solitude. Where
is the mother who would willingly for.
get The infant that perished, like q
blossom from her arms, though every
recollection is a pang? Where is tho
child that would forget the most tender
of parents, though to remember be but
to lament 7 Who even in the hour of
agony, would forget the friend over
whom he mourns ? Who, even whom the
tomb is closing upon the remains of her
he most loved, when he feels his heart, as
it were, crushed in the closing ofits por.
tails, would accept of the consolation
that must be brought by forgetfalness ?
No: the love which survives the tomb
is one Of the noblest attributes of soul.
If it has its woes, it has likewise its de.
lights (; aud, when the overwhelming
burst of griefis calmed into the gentle
tear Of recollection, when the sudden
anguish and convulsive agony over the
present ruins of all that we most loved,
are softened away into pensive medita-
tion on all that it was in the days of its
loveliness, who would root out such o
sorrow from the heart Though it may
sometimes throw a passing cloud over
the brightest hours of gayety, or spread
a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom,
yet who would exchange it, even for
the song of pleasure, or the burst of
revelry ? No: there is q voice from
the tomb sweeter than song. There is
remembrance of the dead to which
we turn, even from the charms of the
living. Oh, the grave the grave it
buries every error, covers every defect,
extinguishes every resentment! From
its peaceful bosom spring mono but
fond regrets and tender recollections.
Who can look down upon tho grave,
even of an enemy, and not feel COM
punctious throb, that he should ever
have warrcd with the poor handful of
of earth that lies mouldering before
him.
Ay! 60 to the grave of buried love.
aud there mediate there settle the &C.
count with thy conscience for every past
endcarment unregarded of that departs
ed being, who can never, never, never
return, to be soothed by thy contrition.
If thou art child, and hast ever add
ed sorrow to the soul, or furrow to
the silvered brow Of an affectionate
parent; ifthou art husband and hast
ever caused the fond bosom that ven
tured its happiness in thy arms to doubt
one moment of thy kindness, or thy
truth; if thou art friend, and hast
ever wrongcd in thought word or deed
the spirit that generously confided in
thee; if thou art lover, and hast ever
given one unmcrited pang to the true
heart which now lies cold and still be-
meath thy feet y; then be sure that
every unkind look, every ungracious
word, every ungentle action, will come
thronging back upon thy memory, and
knocking dolefully at thy soul then
be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrow.
ing and repentant on the grave, and
utter the uuheard groan, aud pour the
unavailing tear,--more deep, more
bitter, because unhoard aud unavail-
ing.
Then weave thy chaplst Of flowers,
and strew the beauties Of nature about
the grave; console thy broken spirit
if thou canst, with these tender yet
futile tribute of regret but take warn.
ing by the bitterness of this thy coptrite
affliction over the dead, and henceforth
be more faithful and affcctionate in the
discharge of thy duties to the living
Euing.