Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-03-01

ial-place." The old barony has given
1t many tenants. Here, now, Is solid
slab, twelve feet in length, that covers
la asgeneration. A long inscription tells
US .of grandsire, son and grandson-of
their wives and children-how they
were worthy and beloved In life, and
| how they were bewept and remember
equally imposing, at the side of this
monument-a goodly range of graves,
each having it's memorial In stone.
But as we know nothing Of them, be-
yond their names, we need not linger
to behold them. They can teach US
but the one lesson which the dead ev-
eTywhere dedicates to the warning Of
| the living. We obey only common
Mood of heedlessness when we turn
cbldly from these unknown sleepers.
But not with such Indifference may
we. pass the slender white shaft to
which l now conduct you. Here Is
little hillock, grassy and speckled with
daisies in the spring. They are the
proper emblems Of the pure, soft, gen.
tie heart of the being who sleeps be-
low. Tread lightly about the spot. 1t
should be sacred to us. 1t hides one
whom we knew and loved In life.
There is something In all the natural
objects that surround 1t that seems to
be in keeping with youth, and inno-
cence and beauty. See this infant ce-
dar Plucked up by the roots from
the neighboring woods, when the grave
was fresh, 1t was planted at its foot,
has taken root vigorously, and Is now
a. beautiful shrub-tree, casting sort
and genial shadow over the spot.
Shall we read the few words that ap-
pear upon the slender marble head
stone? Stoop with me, while my
knife enables us to discern the In
scription.
"E. s.
Born 7th May, 1853: Died 21st June.
$780,"
This is all. No! There are two
words below-but two-and they de-
clare, as fondly perhaps as words may
declare, for the affections Of noble
brother:
"My Sister!"
This Is all-the whole story, with
what our narrative has already given,
Of that sweet suffering creature, whom
we knew on earth as Emily Singleton,
whatever may be her accepted name
In heaven. We may not withhold
from these pages the simple tribute Of
George Dennison, the rustic minstrel
Of the Partisans, made long AFTER
wards, and when we visited the spot
together, fondly pursuing the ancient
avenues of the graveyard, and deci-
phering the old Inscriptions:
The Grave Of Innocence.
'Tis lowly grave. but It suits her best.
Since II breathes Of fragrance and
speaks of rest:
And meet for her is its calm repose,
Whose life was so stormy and sad to
its close.
'Tis shady dell where they've laid
her form.
And the hill gathers round 1t, to break
the storm;
While, above her head. the bending
trees
arrest the wing Of each ruder breeze.
a trickling stream, as II winds below.
Has a music Of peace in its quiet flow;
And the buds. that are always In
bloom above.
Tell Of some minist'ring spirits love.
~
1t is sweet to think. then when all Is
Ger,
And life's feverd pulses shall fret no
more.
There still shall be some, with a gentle
- regret,
Who win not forsake. and who cannot
forget
v.
Some kindlier heart, all untainted by
earth,
That has kent its sweet bloom from
the time of its birth,
Whose tears for the sorrows OF youth
shall be shed,
And whose pray'r shall still rise FOR
the early dead.
(To be Continued).