The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1875-05-28
SFirrf Sf0rp.
KIRKCOHHEL.
A Strange but True Romance.

| quest-r-d spot or all the ceneteri-
or griiveyards which | have seer in any
country, To me, this j. the most attract
i've. There is a weird ineNprrssible loOh
about the place 50 much im keeping will
"A graveyard 1t may be- a feeling Of my
own, but never did like large GENE
terry, such as yOm may see at Cincinnati
or Brooklyn. Ia a large family, n large
church, or city, there is Of necessity Il
certain amount of enlargement. Tie
same is always true Of a graveyard.
The sleepers seem to be more peaceful
when they have had some acquaintance
with each other, The mingling of dust
makes us long to lie where we have been
known; and where we know some at
least of those who intend to lie bcsid"
us. Kirkconnel is just such a place ;Is
this. A little over half an acre Of ground,
family graveyard it seems. Yet from
the beginning Of the fifteenth century,
men and women have been said to sleep
in that quiet little place. And connect
ing the present with the past, the last
time | was there-sOme three years ago
IA bed had just been made for one Of
my school fellows; and h", too, sleeps
swectIy ia Klrkconnel, among those via"
have slept for centuries.
Before narrating the touching tale
Which has made Kirkconncl famous, let
us visit the place. 1t lies on the left
bank OF the river Kirtle-this was dcsiS-
mated IA river, before the Hudson, Nj
agara, or Mississippi were heard Of
which rises far away among those hills
to the north, in Eskdalemoor; and falls
into the Solway Firth. Short a. its jour
ney may be, the scenery along its course
compares well with anything which !
have seen in all my travels. We enter
at the porter's gate, and pass along
the winding path which overlooks tl"
stream. That grand residence to the
right, with its red granite-like appear
ance is called Springkill, and belongs to
Sir John Heron Maxwell, IA foolish kind
of man to be a baronet, but his prlncely
income is sufficient to keep him. What
a magnificent appearance his house
makes. The situation il the most en-
chanting which the mind OF the poet
could wish, or of which the artist could
dream. Following up the bed of the
river for about n mile, we come to
beautiful meadow, studded here anu
there with old oak and chestnut trees
Ia the distance, the ground rises abrupt
Iy, still green, beautifully rounded,
adorned with trees which now stand be
tween you and the sky; while i'll the
fertile meadow cattle are feeding, AS lat
and falr-lOoking as those seen 10y Pha-
raoh in his dream. On the other side of
the atreain, the bank rises high, and is
covered with trees and shrubs, all clad
in their summer vestments.
And now we have come to the little
graveyard, carefully fenced all around
the tOmbstones are scarcely seen, no one
drsecrates tho place by cutting t! g grass
and giving it to the cattle. 1t grows III
the spring time, keeps the ground cool
all summer, and when winter comes
down the valley, it keeps the slrrprrs
WARM The trees stand around in 81
lrnce, watching, casting their melan-
chuly shade on the couch of the silent
slepperS. The bed of the river is more
rocky there than elsewhere, yet the bnb-
bling is not 20 loud; IFS voice s"r'!is
hustled, GIll tbs stream steais past on
:;p- Zoe lest it should break the slumbcr:'
of the dead. Even the thnHghtless Iiy-
ing who visit the place, have a feeling
of awe creep over them, suclI as we have
when visiting any old dimly lighted
ed cathedral, when the organ pc;tls forth
IFS unutterlhle suUulz. l!ut hug can !
describe kirKconnel. Imagination dare
not play hide and-seek there; you must
visit it yourselves if ynH would s"n the
pioturr. What "a sweet place To lie down
when our days work H. over: nothing 10
break the slmnler- till the trumpet
sounds, and the din and hustle of husi-
ness VIII not prevent its first distant
peals being distinctly heard.
On the north side of the graveyard
arr. the ruins of an old Roman Catholic
Chapel all overhung with ivy. The
family of Springfield use this old Sanctn
through the iron grating, or climbing up
that crumbling corner, you can see how
little difference there i beiWcpn demo
cratic AMI aristOcratic dust. Walking
amcng the tombstones you see very
strange devices fhe skull and cross
bones have been in great repute long
ago. There is nnnihrr uld Stone with
what might be- called IL wOOdcut of Adam
ami Eve. There is another stone "n
which l. carved the figure of female
Iacing herself So tightly that her eyes
protrude as ''the eyes of IA toad" and
under her a man is driving like ''JclId
| the son of Nimshi" for doctor; Lut it
| is all in vain; he is too late, for She died
and sleeps now in common dust. Then
there are such quaint Inscriptions; some
in Latin, which ARE read only now and
then. These we suppose mark where
the neighborlng sclInolmasters have been
| laid to rest. Some ia home made poetry
which limp as they go. There are some
sentences in prose, which ilntter HE
| dead; but no one knows whether justly
or unjuStly; and, indeed, no one seems
to care. Some passage OF Scripture
tells that the sleeper once had Il hope of
IA better future. Some you can tell only
the year in which they died; in Others
that even is efTaced, and nothing new is
known save that some one slumLeIs
there in peace. How unassuming these
quiet country grqyeyaTds of Scotland
how full of associations. What lone
some places they were wont 70 bc.
Haunted with dead lights. strange dis
mnl sounds, until your spirit was 81
overcome with fear, that you couid
scarcely hold it in the tabernacle.
Here solemn Silence sits cnihrancd.
And sacred Awe commands"
But let me now return to my story
This is the grave Of Fair Helen ot
KirkeOnnel" The two lovers rest under
this flag of ''old red sandstone Ot