The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1892-12-02
miscellaneous.
THE TOMB-BLOSSOM.
BY WALT WHITMAN.

A pleasant, fair-siZed country will
age, a village embossed in trees, with
old churches, one tavern, kept by a
respectable widow, long, single-storied
farm houses, their roofs messy, and
their chimneys smoke-black, village
with grass and shrubbery, and no
mortar, nor bricks, nor pavement, nor
gas-no newness that is the place for
him who wishes life in it's flavor and
its bloom. Untifof late, my residence
has been in such a place.
Man of cities What is there in all
your boosted pleaSure-your fashions,
parties, balls and theatres, compared
with the simplest Of the delights we
country folks enjoy.
Our pure air, making the blood
swell and leap with buoyant health /;
our labor and our exercise; our free
dom from the sickly vices that faint
the town; our not being racked with
notes due, or the fluctuations of Irices,
or the breaking of banks; our man
ners of sociability expanding the heart
and reacting :. it'll q wholesome effect
upon the body-can anything which
citizens possess balance these2
One Saturday afternoon paying
few days visit at New York, | return
ed to my quarters in the country inn.
The day was hot and my journey a
disagreeable one. Tired and head
throbbing, in less than half score of
minutes after threw myself on my
bed, was stepped in the soundest
slumber.
When | arose every vein and nerve
felt fresh and free. Soreness and irri-
tation had been swept away, as it
were, with the curtains of the night
and the accustomed tone had return
ed again. l rose and threw open my
window. Delicious 1t was calm,
bright Sabbath morning in May.
The dewdrops glittered on the grass
the fragrance o. the apple blossoms
which covered the trees floated up to
Inc, and the notes of Il hundred birds
discoursed music to my ear. By the
rays just shooting up in the eastern
verge | knew that the sun would be
risen in a moment. | hastily dressed
myself, performed my additions and
sailed forth to take a morning walk.
Sweet, yet sleepy scene No one
seemed stirring. The placid influence
of the day was even now spreading
around, quieting and hallowing every
thing. | sauntered slowly onward,
with my hands folded behind me- l
passed around the edge of IL hill, on
the rising elevation and top of which
was q burial ground. On my left,
through an opening in the trees, |
could see at some distance the ripple
of our beautiful bay !; on my right was
the large and ancient field for the
dead. l stopped and leaned my back
against the fence, and my face turned
toward the white marble stones few
rods before me. All | saw was far
from new to me and yet | pondered
upon it. The entrance to that place
of tombs was Il kind of arch-a rough
hewn, but no doubt a hardy piece of
architecture, that had stood winter
and summer over the gate there, for
many, many years. Oh, fearful arch
if there were for thee a voice to utter
what has passed beneath and near
thee; if the secrets of the earthly
dwelling that to thee are known could
be by thee disclosed, whose ears might
listen to the appalling story, and its
possessor not go mad with terror!
Thus thought /; and, strangely
enough, such imagining married not
in the least the sunny brightness
which spread alike over my mind and
over the landscape. Involunuarily,
as | unused, my look was cast to the
top of the hill. law IL figure moving.
Could some one beside myself be out
so early, and among the tombs
What creature cd. enough in fancy
to find pleasure there. and at such a
time? Continuing my gaze | saw
that the figure was q woman. She
seemed to move with II slow and fee
BILE step, passing and requesting con-
stantly between two and the same
graves which were within half a rod
of each other. She would bend down
and appear to busy herself Il few mo-
ments with the one, and then she
woul.l rise and go to the second, and
bend there and employ herself as at
the first. Then to the former one,
and then to the second. Occasionally
the figure would pause a moment, and
stand back little, and look steadfast-
ly down upon the graves, as il to see
whether her work was done well.
Curious to know what was the wO-
mans employment, | undid the sim
pie fastenings of the gate, md walked
over the rank, wet grass toward her.
AS came near | recognized her as an
old, very old inmate of the poor
house named Delarer. Stopping mo-
llcHG, WlllAO l w 90 you oONOidl yiiuS
from her, and before she saw me, |
tried to call to recollection certain
particulars of her history, which /
had heard a great while past. She
was a native of one of the West India
Islands, and, before l, who gazed at
her, WAS born, had with her husband
come hither to settle and gain liveli-
hood. They were poor most miser-
ably poor. Country people, l have
noticed, seldom like foreigners. So
this man and his wife, in all proba
bility, met much to discourage them.
They kept up their spirits, however,
until at last their fortunes became
desperate. Famine and want laid
iron fingers upon them. They had no
acquaintance, and to beg they were
ashamed. Both were taken ill then
the charity that had been SO slack
came to their destitute abode, but
came too late. Delarer died, toe vic
tim of poverty. The woman recover
ed after awhile, but for many months
was quite an invalid, and was sent to
the almshouse, where she had ever
since remained.
This was the story of the aged crea
ture before me aged with the weight
of seventy winters. i walked up to
her. BY her feet stood a large, rude
basket, in which | beheld leaves and
buds. The two graves which | had
seen her passing between so often
| were covered with flowers-the earli-
| est, but sweetest flowers of the season.
| They were fresh and wet and very