The fixed and unchanging features of the country also perpetuate
the memory of the friend with whom we once enjoyed them, who was
the companion of our most retired walks, and gave animation to
every lonely scene. His idea is associated with every charm of
Nature; we hear his voice in the echo which he once delighted to
awaken; his spirit haunts the grove which he once frequented; we
think of him in the wild upland solitude or amidst the pensive
beauty of the valley. In the freshness of joyous morning we
remember his beaming smiles and bounding gayety; and when sober
evening returns with its gathering shadows and subduing quiet, we
call to mind many a twilight hour of gentle talk and sweet-souled
melancholy.
Each lonely place shall him restore,
For him the tear be duly shed;
Beloved till life can charm no more,
And mourn'd till pity's self be dead.
Another cause that perpetuates the memory of the deceased in the
country is that the grave is more immediately in sight of the
survivors. They pass it on their way to prayer; it meets their
eyes when their hearts are softened by the exercises of devotion;
they linger about it on the Sabbath, when the mind is disengaged
from worldly cares and most disposed to turn aside from present
pleasures and present loves and to sit down among the solemn
mementos of the past.
Pages:
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234