Middletown transcript., 1883-11-09

| l1Ilu SCdIlldus
In remote part of the cemetery is
the tomb of Elisha Kent Kane, the
Columbus of the Arctic seas. His sep
ulchre is marked by no costly monu'
ment
ITO keep from dead decay his lustrious
i tame.n
The vault is heWn out of solid rock,
and the iron door contains no inscrip'
tion-not even the name of the Illus
trious traveller. 1t seems sad that he
should have been taken away at such
an early age. Who knows but what
he might have discovered new land
beyond the icy barrier of the frozen
zone, OF on the other side of that open
polar sea ? But the cold of the Arctic
zone played sad havoc with his health,
and when we thought the balmy air OF
Cuba would restore his strength, death
that powerful conqueror-wrapped
his gloomy pail around him.
/
All that beauty all that wealth e'er gave,
| Await alike TIL inevitable hour, .
The paths Of glory lead but to the grave.
These lines are deeply impressed upon
our mindsas we wander through Laurel
Hill. Death is indeed no respecter OF
persons. An artist coneeiveS a statue.
He models it and fashions it until it
bids fair to become a second Galatea,
but ere he completes it death hustles
him away. A poet breathes a song,
but ere he has time to launch his
thoughts upon the world death sum-
mons him. The man old in sin, the
youth who is a credit to himself and to
everyone, the old man well advanced
on life's journey, and the little child
that has not learned to lisp its sire's
name are all his victims.
AS L stood on the hill and looked
down upon that sea of vaults and
tombs, my heart sank within me. |
felt like exclaiming,
SO. death all eloquent! you only prove
| What dust we dote on when It's man we
love-"
What a variety of tombs! Some ar
tistically finished and others so rough
that there is art displayed in their very
rudeness. Anything to attract the
attention Of the passer by, and to keep
from utter oblivion the memories of
those who sleep beneath. But it is
only for short time at the most that
the dead are remembered. The various
faiths, hopes and charities seem to
know this and their arms seem stretched
SO imploringly that one would not be
surprised to hear them say, " For pity
sake, little notice %
1 like not this cold marble that en-
shrines the tombs of the rich. Rather
let the grave be in the sunlight, where
the dews of heaven can fall upon it,
like the mercy of God upon penitent
soul. Let the grave bloom with flowers,
reminding US Of the life beyond the
grave as we bury the seed in the
ground, and it springs up and beauties
the earth with its rich shades and
hues, so shall we, after we have been
laid in the grave, rise clothed in the
splendor of an immortal life. The
graves of the old Roman patricians at
tract no more attention than the lowly
mound in an obscure corner Of coun-
try church-yard. 'Tis true the former
has interested many an antiquarian,
but the lowly mound so interested and
impressed Thomas Gray that he wrote
that beautiful poem, Elegy Written in
aCountry Church-yard." F." Ihave already
quoted one stanza from it and cannot
refrain from quoting another-one that
kept running in my mind the whole
time was in Laurel Hill:
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the t1eeting breath
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or fiattery soothe the dull cold ear OF
death?"
One of the most attractive monu-
ments in the cemetery is the one erected
over the grave of w. J. Mullen, the
philanthropist known as the prisoners
friend" The inscription on the mon
ument tells Of his virtues and how he
Justly won the title Of prisoners
friend" [ will quote portion Of the
inscription Through his efforts
thousands of persons who were unnec-
essarily detained in custody obtained
their release, and were restored to their
friends and families. The good he has
done is destined to perpetuate his name
in the ages yet hidden in the womb Of
time, and to confer countless blessings
upon the millions yet unborn" He
predicted that in a not far distant
period of time prisons would no longer
be needed, and that fallen walls and
rusting doors would only remain and
attest to future generations the horrible
places of torture in which their ances-
tors confined their fellow men. This
sounds very fine and 1 trust it is prob
able. But as we improve in arts and
civilization we seem to improve in the
methods of committing crime. Never
was the forger so skillful as he is now ;
never was counterfeiting so wonderfully
like the genuine, and the treasurer can
so fix his books that two and two make
five. The monument is striking por-
trayal Of Mullen's prophesy. There
are the crumbling walls and the broken
door, and inside the cell IS the abOde oi
the owl and snake. Over the doorway
is a touching representation of Ecct
Homo, the sacred head of Christ pierced
by the cruel thorns. On the prison
steps is woman weeping, and near hel
is this inscription, "A wretched out
cast who with her child was reclaimed
, by him and restored to life of useful
ness. :" There is also woman clinginG
to the cross, under which is inscribed