The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1893-12-08
WITH THE DEAD.
The Sights One Sees in a New
England Graveyard


somehow, they seem 20 stretch 10 suit great
grief ana shrink 10 iii a small one Hawthorne.
Graded among the loveliest Of hills,
resting III their very center a in the
hollow of a hand, lies New England
graveyard with an unprctentious en-
trance-a timc-wOrn wooden gate, and
an earth roadway striking in uueX-
pectedlv from an old elm-lincd street
Clustering about the gate, the spread
ing branches of other elm trees screen
the roads destination. their small
leaves clothing yet not concealing the
strong bOUghs' outlines as diaphauOus
robe might drape a graceful form. Near
the gateway stands a rude shed, from
which the town hearse has been rolled
into the Sunshine-fOr a funeral to-day,
perhaps The thought of new grave
seems an impertinence among these
ancient tombs. as a new patent Of no
bilitv among those long ennOblcd. The
summer rains have softencd and the
winter storms have beaten down the
mounds 70 a grass level. You may
walk among the worn headstOncs with
a lighter step, perhaps. but earth has
been earth too long 70 hold part sacred.
The grass has grown mp long and thick.
You read that Mrs Thankful,
twenty years. but your head must
lie as low Is hers and you must
part a green veil of verdure before
learning that .of four children she
alone survived infancy. and from in
fancy she was an orphan. To the sym
pathy due to one thus early bercft OF
near kindred and home she impaired
peculiar interest; for she was equally
aniable and intelligent"
All these stilted phrases and barely
twenty years Old-only just a wife,
perhaps, The minister of the village
wrote that epitaph, beyond doubt.
But those two lines below, 50 worn
that TO dcciphcr them You must trace
the letters with your finger. as the
blind read-who wrote these words Of
quaint pathOs?
Though all the world forget beside
'Tis meet that remember still
How pleasant TO lie in the cof
grass with the warm sun shining
down from the warmer blue above,
and, with your chin propped on your
hands. vivid life without and within,
your blood quick ia your veins, read
how another lived and breathed and
loved and ended, poor thing, u hundred
years ago!
The next stone stands so near that
you may reach it without rising. The
feel OF the earth Is good, as the crawl
ing beasts Of the field know. Move
forward as they, and part the yelling
grass 10 read Martha Pryor's message
to the world she left:
Reader, You also shorty mutt
BE ttrippcG Of life ana turned 10 duff.
Let the grass spring back Martha
= l,..r ia N xz-i11
think OF all this some day; yes, but not
at Martha's bidding, with its spice of
venom-not with the spell of the JOY of
living on you!
Move on TO that stone near which
small. three-leaved, clover-lilSe plant
mods a negative with You, shaking its
wind-swung head from side 10 side on
its slender stem.
'.Sufa Ingraham'' lies here-her
tombstone rough-hewn from the hills,
its back unfinished as the cutoff life
which the carven front tells of. The
stone has sunk sideways into the
ground. which adds to its look Of de-
crepitude. The inscription can be read,
but with difficulty:
The blooming cheek, the fp-
arkling eve From Death's ar
rest could not save me
are where the rest of the inscription
is hid. doubtless If under the mold
there "Sufa." as Martha, compares her
state with ours to be, kindly Mother
Nature has taken from her Martha's
privilege, and stopped her lips with
earth.
How denunciatory they are, these old
tombs-aggressively warning in their
cry of doomi
Daniel Roswell, from under his
carvern urn, draped with a switch of
dropping willow, sternly sounds his
note of warning:
Vain man, Thy fond pursuits forbear,
Repent, thy end is nigh,
Death al the furtkest can't be far,
thinl-before thou die.
And Elijah Warner, brooded over by
n watchful cherub, impossible and
dreary, with eyes bulging from their
sockets. tells Of his too early death in
the same awful voice:
Youth can'>t thou needless view
The relics Of the dead:
o think: beneath your feet
There lies your own likeness.
And then, most awful.
Elisha Grey End
Mfo QUIT This dufIy
Stage in the sith. year
Of his a-c, Which
was on Octr Is 1920
My children dear, this place draw near
a Fathers grave you fee.
Not long ago was with you
And foon you'll be with me.
There Is in all these note of ghoul-
ish desire to bring the warm and living
to the cold dead, and ''soon you'll be
with nie' rings with il creepingly. 1t
rouses spirit of revolt Eou turn
away sharply to a stone little apart
from the rest, set on grassy hillside
sweet short grass, green and soothing
TO the eye and touch. This is n double
stone. 'Anhel Bolton" lies here; be-
side him, Jane, his wife. Stooping, you
read this beneath his name:
ntnIlr f.nli lirlt.s