The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1883-06-06
Listening to the Complaining Voices
OF the Dead.

Va hAS OGdQs
oh" sighed Mr.. Hunt. As h,
Strengthened up his tired back, | halt
wish | hadn't begun this work. Tbi.
cedar hedge may not live after all INV
trouble and pains. | have selected
every tree, trimmed the entire hedge
myself, and sosed all the grass-seed
clustered my hands, neglected nv
business, and worked like a niger
Tor what? 1.-THE hedge around this
old graveyard fails to live shall sure.
~ be blamed ; If it proves to be a
success shall not be thanked, and"
oh" said woman softly near by
may be if the living don't, the dead
may thank you for remembering
them. Who knows (?
A little group was standing in our
old cemetery few evenings ago when
this conversation occurred. The sun
had gone and twilight was fast Green
ing over the lonely long.neglected
graves. a strange hush, profound
silence peryaded the place, when
suddenly distinct sound made itself
audible, and all eyes turned in its
direction. \ singular thing had
happened. rhe person in question
was standing near an old blackened
stone idly holding his pencil, when, |
to every body's ast1nishment it began
suddenly and filriously to scribble ON
the marble slab.
Certain We are the words that follow
were the words that it wrote, but
whence they proceeded and fer whom .
intended far be il from me to attempt
to decide. Suffice it 50 to say that
This was the writing.
We are the dead of the old Eaton-
ton cemetary. We are your fathers.
your mothers, your sisters, your
brothers, your grandsires, your near
est and dearest kindred, bone of your
bone, flesh of your flesh beneath
your feet we lie! Unhonored, un-
known, neglected and forgotten!
Jur distressing pace desecrated, our
memories unhallOwed, and our very
names obliterated ! We are the an
'estors of Eatonton, the founders of
is wealth, the creators of its civili-
alton, the pioneers who broke and
made smooth the paths in which our
descendants walk to-day A.! How we
abored, how we suffered, how we toll
d for you, citizens of Eatontor, our
hlldren who have failed to pay in
urn affections last poor tribute
owing care of us, your dead Lord
! the soil once we were, proud owners I
all the broad acres YOU now possess:
ut you have begrudged us mans last
ltltuI inheritance six feet of earth =
or have you not for years allowed &
ur graves to be herding place for
attic and apay ground for chidren? :
not every Christian entitled to
urlal IN consecrated soil? And are
e living in consecrated soil ordese- 4
rated ground? Answer and blush.
sob! how helpless are the dead
low soon forgotten! Some of us
no lie beneath your feet were once
tenderly loved, as gently nurtured,
fair of face, as lovely Of form as
on are to day, The very winds of
eaven were not allowed too blow too
)ughly upon these dainty beauteous :
mes but over their neglected graves b
lthy swine have rooted and the cat r
c have trampled for years. Shame, h,
lame upon our descendants, citizens en-
Eatonton. Under the shadows OF p'
he old church our own hands reared
e lie. No flowers bloom above us. !
o tender, loving hands work over !
:, no reverent care guards the record i
our lives and deaths. Desecrated .
bandoned! Forgotten! How pitt 9 3
II are the dead in the cid Eatont ton :
" =,