The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1894-08-11

Gone are the living but the dead remain
And not neglected; for hand unseen,
Scattering its bounty, like a summer rain.
Still keeps their graves and their remembrance
green. -LonGfeVow
During summer days ramble along
the hillless roads of Talbot county, Nd,
when the sun shot its noontide beams
upon freshly plowed fields, and cattle in
the pastures sought the shade of spreading
trees, / came to gate at the end of a
long lane leading to the little burial-y yard
of neighboring village-the quiet, per-
chance old-fashioned town of Oxford.
The overgrowth of vines and bushes formed
hedge on one side of the road, hiding in
places the twisting of snake-fence, while
now and then among the hanging leaves
appeared the blossoms of clustering fox
gloves, which swayed from side to side as
if band Of elfns were ringing a carol
from the flowers crimson throats. At the
end of the lane was another gate opening
into the small lot.
It is pleasure to me, to stroll about the
inclosure of some rural cemetery, almost
forgotten by the hurrying life without, yet
wherein there seems to linger a fragrant
memory, ever so fresh as the odors Of the
simple flowers that bloom there; while the
rustic of branches, the chirp of happy birds,
or the cry Of insects concealed in the shadow
of a stone are heralds reminding the trav-
eler that the ground whereon he stands is
sacred ground and the place is hallowed by
the associations of another world Then
too, methinks a silence peculiar to the spot
fingers in the air, serving as mantle
against outward sound.
Kind reader, to whose matter-of-fact
mind this appeal is made, do not misjudge
me when say it is pleasure born Of Gu
riosity for the quaint and rare, which leads
me to indulge the promptings of disposi-
ton ever attracted by shifting scenes.
Have you at any time, while pursuing
country journey, whether for pleasure or
the attainment of more enduring ends,
wandered to where village churchyard
appeared to view dotted with darkened,
half-fallen stones, and rich in curious en-
cravings, which, perchance, invoked gen
tie smile; and as you stood reading the
memorials, has your mind never paused
"A while to muse. and ponder
On the half-efaced inscription,
Written with little skill of song-oraft,
Homely phrases, but each letter
Full Of hope and yet of heart-break,
Full of all the tender pathos
ofthe Here and the Hereafter"
But if you never have halted while on such
an expedition, bear patiently with one who
has found much to crafty in these wayside
lingerings to rustic rambles.
The tract of ground forming the little
cemetery partook of the Aatness of sur
rounding country; and the road and paths,
once clearly,defned, were now but partially
traced among the weeds and rank grasses
growing wild and free. A small creek
bounded the lot on the north, and extended
along its eastern side; while at the far end
from the entrance was gateway to
landing made among the bushes along the
waters edge. TO this spot might not old
Charon guide his dark and dismal vessel
upon nightly voyage; and, laying down
the oar which ofttimes stirred the waves of
the river Acheron, make fast his craft and
passing through the gate enter the abode of
death. And might we not further think
that there, awaiting his arrival, Father
Time would be seated on leaning stone
ready to welcome the visitor, and after the |
conference, whose details no mortal mind
can ever know, Charon would return to the
little landing, leaving Father Time to de-
part upon other duties. Yet all the while |
there hovered near the scene two spirits,
one an angel, messenger from shores be-
yond the skies, the other, his countenance
of dire hatred betokened him being flown
thither from the place, over whose entrance |
poet once read the inscription
"All hope abandon. ye who enter here
But enough ofsuch thoughts, which have
no true foundation, let us turn to where
monument of rather antique design stands
near the road. 1t is perhaps ten feet in
height, consisting of Tuscan column
which rests upon large rectangular block
of marble, the whole supported by a base
of granite. An urn, covered with stains
left by the finger prints Of passing years,
crowns the pillar, and reaches among the
branches Of an oyeFhapgipg limb Upon
the surface of the pedestal are recorded
the name aud deeds Of him to whom the
monument was erected, ~e
7snoh TTlgAmas.
1t. Col, in the Continental Army,
aud
aggs Aid--de--ca;np