The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1883-07-14
A Cemetery Without Grass.


we turned our steps from the busy city
of Pueblo, making our way to the
cemetery, which lies mile to the north
ward. True, our eyes had grown some
what accustomed to the dry, sandy
waste of country which stretches about
this city of Colorado; but we had not
thought that the desert could extend
within this sacred spot; and the ceme-
terry of the east naturally rose in mag
ination. Think of that in spring or
summer, and vision of flowers and
living green is presented; in autumn,
and there is the gorgeous October TO
hage-even winter seems to lay his
hand lightly upon the beauties that
surround the quiet sleepers.
The little mounds were in sight At
last, but the grass and the flowers did
not appear; on the contrary, the earth
with the surrounding sand hills pre-
sented scene so dead that all things
seemed hopeless of the resurrection
morn. The chief object which called
us to the quiet spot was desire to see
the grave of Chinaman. The funeral
had taken place some two weeks before.
The potter's field contains the grave,
which was easily recognizable by the
curious array upon it. 1t was shaped
as the others, no stone, but a wooden slab
marked the head and foot; the one at
the head bore some Chinese characters,
while the other told in English the
name and date. Over the head was a
plate upon which lay roast chicken,
then bowl of rice, some Joss-sticks
stuck in the earth, after these a small
cup with kind of nuts, bottle half
buried in the earth, another small cup,
and lastly plate with the head of q
chicken upon it, and another just over
the foot containing a kind of meat.
| Everything bore the marks of fire, and
by the side of the grave were the re-
mains of fire, in which were frag-
ments of Chinese paper and half-burned
Joss-sticks. After gazing for time
upon these marks of a very different
civilization, we passed to the other por-
tons of Goods acre." and found them
scarcely less strange than the one just
left.
The desire to, in some way, beautify
the last resting place of loved ones
seems to be so firmly implanted in the
human breast, that if one means fails,
another is employed. Though not a
tree nor spear of green turf greeted the
eyes yet ali around were the tokens OF
loving hands; hands impelled by a motive
so sacred, that they will not be gain
sayed. Here were the tiny mounds,
whose brown earth was strewed with
playthings, that the little hands had
ceased to grasp. There two graves side
by side; the surroundings betokening
poverty rather than wealth; the one a
glittering mass of blue, the other a
cleaning red. Upon nearer approach,
the blue and the red proved to be glass
in tiny pieces. The hills about Pueblo
abound in small stones, which though
not valuable are pleasing to the eye.
Many of the graves are covered with
these stones, nicely fitted together,
those of the more wealthy showing that
the ornamental stonework had been
done by the hands of a skilful workman,
The sides only were covered with the
bright stones, while upon the flat toy
was kind of coarse sand in which the
name was often traced with stones
Many were the ways in which the
friends of the sleepers had proved theil
desire to do what they could.
The sun was sinking behind the dis
tant mountainous we turned from thu
silent, lone place, leaving the sleeping
children with their untouched play
things; the wanderer from beyond thu
sea, with the strange array above him
rich and poor, all resting as PEACEFUL.
as though beneath the green turf AM
the leafy shade:
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and iowin
beside them,
Thousands of throbbing hearts where their
are at rest and forever,
Thousands of aching brains whore theirs n
= longer are busy,
Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs hav
ceased from their labors,
Thousands of weary feet, where theirs hav
completed their journey
Pueblo (Cot. Cor Springfield Mass.
Republican.