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Auburn, Ala. (Alabama, United States) (search for this): chapter 9
t too well adapted to counteract it;--to sensations, to mere excitement, more than to feelings, in the better sense of the word, at all. On this point I have intimated my impressions already, in speaking of the style of the Cathedrals and other places of the kind. I would not be deemed insensible to the just worth of the associations now in question. More dignity there certainly is in these, than in mere external decorations; and yet,--I acknowledge it freely,--I would not have the dust of Auburn to groan with such a load of the one, scarcely more than of the other. He who has visited the Parisian Cemetery whose ├ęclat imposes on the imagination much more, let me say, than it can on the eyes-knows full well the expense at which the increase of its honors and the influence of its antiquity have been obtained. He who has not been there, can easily conceive what I mean. I will not dwell on such a theme. The more it is considered, however, the less disposed, I am sure, we shall be,
e family; a gallant naval officer, coming home from a long service, with his wife, a babe, and three elder and beautiful daughters. The brother of this lady had been expecting them daily. He was one of the first on the Island to be informed of their coming --and of how they had come ;--and to behold a spectacle which I will not describe. Let us hasten from the church-yard of Chale. The name is a knell in my memory. A glance at the burial-place of the United Brethren near Ballvmena in Ireland, may be a relief to the reader. It is another of the spots one would choose for his bones to lie in;--for, say what we will, there is a choice, and the thought of it is no indifferent matter to us while alive, however little the fact itself may concern us or others in future time. The Moravians believe so, at least. They appreciate justly, too, the moral influence, the religious science, of a grave-yard. They do not deem it either decent to leave it neglected, or necessary to make it f
Montgomery (Alabama, United States) (search for this): chapter 9
ful as a thought of Paradise. I attended service in the little church, and afterwards walked through the grave-yard which lies on the table-land of a gentle green swell behind it, skirted with flourishing and flowery hedges, and spotted over, in hollow and heap, with checks of a mellow September sunshine, sifted through branches of leaning trees. I need not describe the scene in detail. The customs of this sect in the care of their dead are known to all. How truly are they delineated in Montgomery's lines on the graves of the Patriarchs:-- A scene sequestered from the haunts of men, The loveliest nook of all that lovely glen, Where weary pilgrims found their last repose. The little heaps were ranged in comely rows, With walks between, by friends and kindred trod, Who drest with duteous hands each hallowed sod. No sculptured monument was taught to breathe His praises whom the worm devoured beneath. The high, the low, the mighty, and the fair, Equal in death, were undistinguished
Cambria (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 9
temple, this sacred ground, to us, to us they speak. They tell us of the history below us, and of the destiny before. They mind us well of the life we are living; ah! better still of that we have not lived, where there is no more moaning of the sea. It was in this grave-yard I noticed a humble heap piled over the remains of one whose annals, as the modest marble at its head recorded them, touched my heart. It was a young, beautiful girl. She came to this neighborhood, I think, from Wales, probably for the restoration of health. But alas! nor herb, nor sea-air, nor care of relative or friend, could save her; no, not the yearning tenderness or breaking heart of him who loved her best, and who weeps now over the untimely tale I read. To him she had been long betrothed, and trusting still that dear deceiving hope which never leaves us, and which the poor perishing consumptive and her kindred cling to so fondly, till life's light goes quite out,--in this hope the marriage-day
Mount Auburn (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 9
merican version of this characteristic. The feeling in which the beautiful establishment at Mount Auburn originated, and the spirit which has sustained it so well, are consolatory symptoms of a bettton vaults. The poorest village may be far abler than the most opulent metropolis to emulate Mount Auburn in its way, for nature, and the love of it, are all it needs. All? I think I hear some rea may include. And yet, for such as incline to be discontented with the historical poverty of Mount Auburn,--for such, still more, as commit the error of confounding this want (a comparative want) of lands,--for these, it may be well to consider how much better and fitter an establishment is Mount Auburn, for the purposes its founders and friends had in view when they reared it, than Pere la Chaiseless clod, It rests until that trump shall sound, The awaking trump of God! A thought of Mount Auburn. Miss M. A. Browne. Of Liverpool. Received by the Editor in reply to a letter communicati
Borrowdale (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 9
ings through the grass;--Here, 'midst the chambers of the Christian's sleep, We o'er death's gulf may look with trusting eye, For hope sits dove-like on the gloomy deep, And the green hills wherein these valleys lie Seem all one sanctuary Of holiest thought;--nor needs their fresh, bright sod, Urn, wreath, or shrine, for tombs all dedicate to God. I remember a spot among the Cumberland hills that might have inspired even poetry like this. It was the little church, (and church-yard) of Borrowdale;--the smallest building of its class in England, it is stated. Mr. Wordsworth, who lives in the neighborhood, said it was no bigger than a cottage, and thus indeed it seemed, when, at the end of a long ramble, I found it so nestled away in the niche of a hill-side, so buried and wrapped in shade and solitude, that it was difficult to realize how even the narrow space within its walls should ever be filled by human worshippers. Another such picture the pedestrian may have to think of, who
Liverpool (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 9
us to no toiling day; Together, when the school-bell called, Our willing youthful feet obeyed, And when the eve grew dim, our heads Were on the self-same pillow laid Ah! never more that happy voice Will cheer me on life's thorny way, And never more that buoyant frame Will rise with me at peep of day; But low within the silent vault, Beneath the dull and senseless clod, It rests until that trump shall sound, The awaking trump of God! A thought of Mount Auburn. Miss M. A. Browne. Of Liverpool. Received by the Editor in reply to a letter communicating the design of this volume. Fair land, whose loveliness hath filled My soul's imaginings, At whose high names my heart hath thrilled, Through all its finest strings! There was a sunny light around My idlest thought of thee; I dreamed that thou a hallowed ground, A fairy land, must be; I thought upon thy boundless woods, Thy prairies broad and lone,-- I thought upon thy rushing floods, Thy cataracts' thunder-tone,-- On valleys, 'mi
nd the fair, Equal in death, were undistinguished there. Yet not a hillock mouldered near that spot, By one dishonored, or by all forgot. To some warm heart the poorest dust was near, From some kind eye the meanest claimed a tear. And oft the living, by affection led, Were wont to walk in spirit with their dead, Where no dark cypress cast a doleful gloom, No blighting yew shed poison o'er the tomb, But white and red, with intermingling flowers, The graves looked beautiful in sun and showers. Green myrtles fenced them, and beyond that bound Ran the clear rill, with ever-murmuring sound. 'T was not a scene for grief to nourish care,-- It breathed of hope, it moved the heart to prayer. Yes, and it fills us with hope, it moves us to prayer, even to think of such a spot. What quietness, what beauty of visible nature, what harmony of rural sounds, what soothing emblems, in a word, of precious and glorious spiritual speculations, and what stirring yet soothing monitors to christian phil
is to emulate Mount Auburn in its way, for nature, and the love of it, are all it needs. All? I think I hear some reader say. Where, then, are your great names? The church-yards of England and other lands are full of such. See how the dust of Pere la Chaise teems with them! What monuments-what historical and classical accumulations-what scholars, conquerors, and bards-what hints and helps to patriotism, and perseverance and high ambition! Aye, and to other feelings, I fear, less in uniss the illustriously insignificant or obnoxious dead of other lands,--for these, it may be well to consider how much better and fitter an establishment is Mount Auburn, for the purposes its founders and friends had in view when they reared it, than Pere la Chaise, or anything of the sort, could possibly be in its place. How much better to muse in for the living, or to sleep in for the dead, than some few ages hence it may become, when opulence, and luxury, and fashion, and all the whims of human
Lilias Fay (search for this): chapter 9
usly. So, one breezy and cloudless afternoon, Adam Forrester and Lilias Fay set out upon a ramble over the wide estate which they were to posnd, down the avenue of drooping elms, that led from the portal of Lilias Fay's paternal mansion, they seemed to glance like winged creatures tngely unsuited to their joyous errand. It was a near relative of Lilias Fay, an old man by the name of Walter Gascoigne, who had long laborede of Happiness. Seek another site for yours! What! exclaimed Lilias Fay, have any ever planned such a Temple, save ourselves? Poor chi And the glad song of the brook will be always in our ears, said Lilias Fay. And its long melody shall sing the bliss of our lifetime, sair Temple of Happiness! Where in this world, indeed! repeated Lilias Fay; and being faint and weary, the more so by the heaviness of her the names of buried ones. They doubted, too, whether the form of Lilias Fay could appertain to a creature of this earth, being so very delica
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