USA > New York > Onondaga County > Syracuse > History of Oakwood cemetery > Part 2
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The first serious efforts for the establishment of a Rural Cemetery in this city, were made in the years 1852-3.
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Oakwood Cemetery.
Several meetings were held and were well attended. Committees were appointed to view the adjacent country and find suitable grounds. After a very thorough exami- nation, those committees reported, and it was generally, if not unanimously, conceded, that the grounds we now occupy were the most desirable in the vicinity of the city. But after reaching this point. the enterprise was permitted to sleep ; mainly, I think, for the reason that no one was willing to put himself at the head of the effort necessary to accomplish the result.
It was again revived in 1857, with renewed zeal. The price of the land was agreed upon, all the necessary papers were drawn preparatory to a final organization, when the great financial revulsion of that year arrested the enterprise.
Fifteen months since, in the summer of 1858, a few of the gentlemen who had heretofore interested themselves in this matter, again met and resolved to renew the effort. Numberless difficulties seemed to surround them. Several months were consumed before we obtained a satisfactory offer for the sale of the lands.
The plank road passing through the grounds, was con- sidered, and very properly, an insuperable objection, and one which must be removed before the purchase was consummated. Much delay and some difficulty was expe- rienced in procuring the consent of the stockholders and directors of said road : in obtaining the sanction of such removal. from the town officers of the town of Onondaga: in procuring the new right of way which this removal made necessary, and more than all, in raising the $25.000 which was required to make the purchase. But patience and
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Oakwood Cemetery.
perseverance met with their accustomed reward. The enterprise was regarded with favor and liberally treated by the bulk of our citizens, and I am happy here, in this public manner, to acknowledge our obligations to the stockholders and directors of the Jamesville plank road company, and to the Supervisor and Commissioners of the town of Onondaga, as well as to many other gentlemen, who fully appreciated the value of the object which we had in view, and contributed to its accomplishment.
Fifteen months have seen every obstacle removed ; the association organized, the lands purchased, and the work of improvement moving rapidly forward, under the direc- tion of Mr. Howard Daniels, of New York city, a landscape gardener, whose large experience and cultivated taste will develope all its beauties, and render Oakwood the pride and pleasure of every citizen of Syracuse.
At the conclusion of Mayor Leavenworth's address, Alfred B. Street, Esq., of Albany, pronounced the follow- ing exquisitely beautiful and appropriate Poem : -
O'er life's fresh springtide, when the blithesome hours Dance to glad music through perennial flowers : O'er bounding youth, when hope points ever on, No blossom scentless, and no color wan ; O'er stately manhood, when the mounting tread Seeks the far prize that stars the crag o'erhead ; O'er trembling age, when, worn with toil and woc. It turns from light above to gloom below,- Darkens a shade, mysterious, cold and black,
Mantling the flowery as the wintry track :
Brooding where joy its diamond goblet quaffs ; Where daring, loud at every danger laughs :
Where strength securely rests on future vears :
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Oakwood Cemetery.
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GRANGER.
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Oakwood Cemetery.
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BUREAU OF KG
Randall & Nesdell, Builders.
MYERS.
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Oakwood Cemetery.
Where fame, wealth, pleasure, each its votary cheers. Death is that shade, inexorable Death, With ever lifted dart at all of mortal breath.
But though the soul that lights the frame depart, The darkened dust is sacred to the heart. Around the spot that wraps the dead from sight, Lingers thought's tenderest, love's divinest light ; Hallowed by suffering, it remains a shrine, Where oft sad memory wends, its fairest flowers to twine.
The land that trod through deluge-ocze its way, Gave to the pyramid its mummied clay. The purple skies of Art and Song inurned The sacred ashes sacred fires had burned. The Parsee offered to his God, the sun, On the grand crag the heart whose course was run. And the red roamer of the prairie sea, Yields to the air his wrecked mortality. But not to pyramid, though mocking Time, The urn funereal, nor the sun sublime, Nor boundless air, nor yet the waste of waves,- That stateliest, mightiest, most august of graves, But yet in such drear, weltering vastness spread, -- Should Christian hands consign the Christian dead. But to the earth, the warm, the steadfast earth, That, touched by God's own finger, gave us birth ; Where, to the resurrecting sun and rain, The seed but perishes to live again ; Where Nature hides her life in Winter's gloom, For warbling Spring to sing it into bloom : Home of the tree that sheds its leaty showers For the new garland wreathed by vernal hours ! Home of the priceless fount ! the matchless gem ! The precious gold ! more precious grainy stem ! Yea, as we woke to life upon her breast, Her loving arms should fold our last and longest rest.
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Oakwood Cemetery.
And thus, oh lovely Oakwood, shalt thou spread Thy sylvan chambers, for the slumbering dead. Through thy green landscapes shall Affection stray, Weep the wild tear, with softened sadness pray. Within the glen, as murmurings fill the tree, A voice shall seem to whisper "Come with me !" And the green hill top-whence the sight is fraught; With the rich painting Nature's hand hath wrought ; Woodland and slope, mount, meadow and ravine, The city's white, the water's purple sheen, And the dim mountain tops, until the gaze Pierces where distance hangs its tender haze- Tell that the soul, with onward pointed eye, Finds its far limit only in the sky.
The grassy dingle and the leafy dell Shall tremble sadly to the tolling bell ; Where now wide solitude wraps slope and glade For winds to pipe to dancing sun and shade, Shall carved memorials of the dead be found Breathing their solemn eloquence around. Here, shall the son, in some prone trunk, descry · The sire he saw in life's completeness die ; Here shall the sire, in some green pine, survey The stately son, ere death had claimed its prey ; Here, in the flower, the mother again shall see The laughing child that perished at her knee ; Here, the wierd wind shall with long, melting moan, Mingle its sadness with the mourner's own, And the drear cloud, low brooding, seem a part Of the dark sorrow hanging on his heart ; Here, too, the joyful splendor of the sun Shall tell the life the loved and lost hath won ; And warblings sweet, the landscape's ear that fill, Of those glad strains the sounding heavens that thrill. Summer shall here hold green and leafy time, Emblem of those that perished in their prime.
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REDFIELD.
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Autumn shall shower its wreaths upon the air,
Sign to the living also to prepare ; Winter shall spread in fierce and frowning might, Great type of death, its chilling robes of white ; But, oh, glad thought ! in Spring's triumphant reign, Nature shall bound in radiant joy again ; Bid with her rapturous life Death's horrors flee, Type of that glorious truth -- MAN'S IMMORTALITY.
Music followed the delivery of the foregoing poem, after which Hon. Wm. J. Bacon, of Utica, was introduced, and delivered the dedicatory oration. It was an elaborate address, and nothing but its length prevents its publication here.
The following Ode, written for the occasion by Rev. John Pierpont, was then read by Rev. W. W. Newell, D. D., and sung in the grand strains of Old Hundred, by the Syracuse Musical Institute :-
These temples, now erect and strong, Wherein thy spirit, Lord of all, Dwelleth and giveth life, ere long Will totter, and in ruins fall.
By pious hands, beneath the shade Of these old trees, those ruins must, With tears, be reverently laid, To mingle slowly dust with dust.
Sacred from this day be these grounds ! Here be a quiet Sabbath kept,
While the years walk their silent rounds : Here let our own long sleep be slept.
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But, Lord, the grave, the body's bed, Made here, is not the Spirit's prison : We hear the angel's voice, that said, " He is not here ; your friend is risen."
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May we, O, Father, be so blest, That when from earth the spirit springs, It may mount up to thee, and rest Beneath the covert of thy wings.
The ceremonies now over, Rev. Joseph M. Clark, of St. James Episcopal Church, pronounced the benediction, when the procession reformed, and returned to the city.
Thus ended the public ceremonies immediately connect- ed with an enterprise, whose influence upon the whole future of Syracuse could have been, at that time, scarcely comprehended by the majority of those interested. To- day, less than fifteen years since the foregoing ceremonies were held, the growth and prosperity of the association partially demonstrate its necessity. No public institution in Syracuse is a subject of such pride and congratulation, as Oakwood. That it will ever remain so, there is not a doubt.
Oakwood Cemetery.
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BUSCAR OF ILLUSTRATION BUFFALO
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MIDLAND AVENUE.
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Come up fair Oakwood's shady aisles, O'er which the Summer morning smiles. Above, the whispering oak tree weaves A living, trembling veil of leaves, Through which the shattered sunbeams pass, The fragments falling in the grass. . Above, the bird of golden breast,
Has piped the sweetest reveille ; Has plucked and plumed his golden breast, And from his swaying hammock nest, Sends forth his greeting to the day.
If the indulgent reader will step with us, on a beautiful ummer afternoon, inside the western gate to this queen Cemeteries, and stroll with us up Midland Avenue, we ill endeavor to point out some of the more prominent cauties and attractions of this unrivaled retreat.
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Oakwood Cemetery.
This broad, clean drive sweeps with a graceful curve to the left from the entrance, and to the right, for perhaps one hundred rods, to the location of the Receiving Vault. This is a plain, though tasteful and substantial work formed mainly by excavation in the hillside that rises southward from the avenue, from which it is distant a few rods. A smooth walk leads to it through the green lawn. The mason-work is of Onondaga limestone.
Nearly parallel to this portion of Midland Avenue, half way up the slope on the left, runs Hillside Avenue, its surroundings plainly visible from below. Here are located the monuments of Culver, Everson, Lee and others, and near these the stately and magnificent memorial erected to the memory of Mather Williams, M. D., rises into view. It is a dream of loveliness wrought in imperishable stone. Chaste and plain in design, it is yet one of the finest mon- uments in the cemetery. Its top is crowned by a graceful life-size statue of Hope, of the most elaborate workman- ship. The design and execution of this beautiful work of art, reflects the utmost credit upon the builder, Mr. James Sharkey, of Brooklyn.
Close by we notice the unpretending shaft, which fitly marks the resting-place of Stephen Smith and his wife, names well known to our older citizens.
From the Receiving Vault eastward, the windings of Midland Avenue through the valley, which grows deeper
Oakwood Cemetery. 55- 56
BAUM.
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and deeper, as the land upon either side rises higher and higher, is almost over-arched by the luxuriant foliage of the thrifty oaks, making its cool depths in mid-summer, too inviting to resist.
" Here, as in the solitude and shade we wander Through the green aisles, and o'er the velvet sod, Awed by the silence reverent we ponder The ways of God.
Just beyond the Receiving Vault, Central Avenue, and a little farther east, Winding Avenue branch off to the left, and climb by graceful curves, the green hillside ; while away toward the eastern boundary, Crescent Avenue reaches away up the sharp ascent to the left.
On a lofty, green eminence which slopes down to Mid- land Avenue, between Winding and Crescent Avenues. stands that unrivaled structure, the mausoleum of John A. Green. No description can do it justice. It was erected by Messrs. Randall & Nesdell, from designs by II. N. White, at a cost of over $25.000, and is an honor equally to the owner, the builders, and the cemetery.
Beyond Crescent Avenue eastward, improvements are yet in their infancy ; therefore, we leisurely follow up its bend, and at almost every step obtain a new view of the beauti- ful burial place. To the rear of this, we by a short walk. passing the prominent monuments of Clark, Miles, and others, reach Winding Avenue at its junction with Linden. On our left rises the imposing monument of the Baum family. Our artist has given us a beautiful illustration of this chaste and elegant work. It is executed in granite,
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and its artistic proportions and imposing aspect are evi- dences of the skill and good taste of the builder. It is from the works of James Sharkey, Brooklyn. Near by is seen the tasteful marble memorial of Jefferson Freeman, and directly opposite, the monuments of Tefft and Sher- wood. A little farther up the hill stands a square, sub- stantial and elegant work of art, erected to the memory of Sarah Collins ; and to the left of this, heavenward points the stately obelisk of Loomis and Ostrander.
Returning by Linden Avenue to its junction with Dale Avenue, the monuments of Noxon, Vandenburgh, Merri- man and others, on our left, and on our right that of Sam- uel Larned, and an imposing shaft of the beautiful Scotch granite, inscribed with the name of Waggoner, are seen.
A few rods northward, Linden Avenue enters Oakland Avenue, up which we turn eastward, on our way noticing monuments, more or less prominent, of John Hayden and family, Capt. William J. Hunt, William Sharpe, William Malcolm, Ostrom, Sweet, Truair and Spaulding on the left ; and those of C. B. Loveless, Miles W. Bennett, /A. R. Timby and others on the right.
On the sloping corner formed in the angle of Landscape and Oakland Avenues, stands an elegant arch, surmounted by a marble statue of Hope, erected to the memory of Charles Keene. Near this, on the right, is the imposing monument of George B. Parker.
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CERE
GERE.
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Farther up Oakland Avenue, and within a little distance of the hill-top, Highland Avenue branches to the right, upon which are located the prominent monuments of Jacob- Amos, A. Jackson, Horace P. Eno, and others less worthy of notice.
Oakland Avenue stretches away up eastward to the top of the eminence, where we find Lake View Avenue on our left. Into this we turn, and in a moment more are near the northern boundary of the Cemetery, upon a rounded eminence, where stands the chaste and stately hexagonal tower of J. W. Barker. The design of this monument is unique, its location unrivaled, making it a prominent feature of beauty. An admirable engraving of it and surroundings, will be found in its appropriate place.
From this point we obtain one of the grandest landscape views we may hope ever to enjoy. Afar below lies the busy city, almost every building of which is visible, and beyond, in the dim haze, the blue lake sleeps in the lap of the surrounding hills. Here we will rest a moment, and enjoy the perfumed breeze that always hurries by, or lingers along this eminence.
· Near by stands the rough, yet appropriate monument to perpetuate the memory of two brave soldiers, E. Kirby Smith and J. S. Kirby Smith, father and son, who fell in the service of their country, one at Molino del Rey, Mex- ico, and the other at Corinth, Mississippi.
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" How calm they sleep beneath the shade, Who once were weary of the strife."
Returning southward, we reach Woodland Avenue, by which we descend the hill, passing on our left the mon- uments of Levi Freeman, Henry H. Hoyt, a worthy sol- dier who fell before Petersburg, and Horatio Anderson, E. Little and others on the right.
From a point near the junction of Woodland and Cen- tral Avenues is obtained one of the finest internal views in the Cemetery. Sitting beneath a grand old oak-the only monument upon a green circle between the streets- facing the West, immediately in front is reared the elabo- rate form and lofty spire of the mausoleum of the Burton family, a beautiful illustration of which will be found upon another page. It is an imposing structure, in the gothic style of architecture, and was built at the works of Mr. John F. Dee, from designs by Mr. H. N. White.
On a sweeping lawn of unsullied green, at our left, stands the tomb of the Wilkinsons. A better conception of the beauties of this massive and elaborately carved memorial, may be obtained from the engraving on another page, than we can give in words. Directly west of this rises the lofty monument of Robert Gere, its vicinity en- livened and beautified by myriads of blooming flowers and rare shrubbery ; also illustrated herein.
Oakwood Cemetery.
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BROWER
BROWER.
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Turning to the right upon Central Avenue, we approach the subterranean Vault of Dr. Hoyt. To the north of this we are pleased to notice the lot and memorials of the Col- - vin family and its branches. Upon this lot, the form of a noble dog is preserved in enduring stone, while another monument attracts especial attention, by its unique design and faultless execution. It is a perfect representation of a huge oak stump, cut in solid marble. Every feature of a decaying tree-broken limbs, fractured bark-all are faith- fully portrayed. This lot and its attractions receive perhaps, more attention from visitors, than any other in the Cemetery.
Between this point and the northern boundary of the grounds, the beautiful Edgewood Avenue winds its way. Down this we go, passing the cone-like hillock, upon which is the lot of the Sweet family. It is surrounded by a rustic iron fence, composed of iron arches, cach overlapping and securing its neighbor low in the ground.
Far down among the cool shades of the valley to which we are going, bubbles a living spring of water, which will some day be made use of as an additional means of orna- menting the grounds,
From this valley runs northward, Serpentine Avenue, upon which is situated a noble work of art, the mausoleum of the family of Austin Myres, a truthful illustration of which will be found on another page. Upon one of the most prominent mounds, which rises westward from the
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valley, stands the magnificent mausoleum of C. T. Long- street, which is also faithfully depicted herein.
Turning short to the left, at this point, we ascend the . hill for a short distance, through the beautiful shades of Maple Avenue. Here we find ourselves in the midst of beauties, natural and artificial. "We rest upon the broad steps leading up to the massive oblong monument of Horace and Hamilton White, a truthful and beautiful illus- tration of which will be found upon another page, and we gaze with admiration towards a twin eminence south of us, whereon is reared the lofty, delicately carved and elabo- rately designed marble monument to the memory of James Crouse. This is the first monument erected in the Ceme- tery, and .its beauties fully shadowed forth what would eventually be enclosed within its limits. A fine engraving of this elegant structure graces the pages of this work.
We are now in the oldest portion of the Cemetery, and find ourselves surrounded, above and upon all sides, by a wealth of magnificence, in foliage, flower and shrub, inter- spersed with the kingly trunks of grand old trees, which is sought for in vain in most other cemeteries in the country. where nature has been less prodigal in her gifts than in Oakwood.
Crossing from Maple to Woodland Avenue, by a narrow walk, we reach the flower-strewn grounds of Milton S. Price. A ruined wall, moss-grown and covered with ivy.
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John F. Dee. Builder.
LONGSTREET.
Oakwood Cemetery.
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GREEN.
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has been sculptured by the artist in a faithful manner, and the effect is very pleasing.
Near this point is the lot of E. W. Leavenworth, the chief ornament of which at present, is an old forest mon- arch, a great limb of which starts straight out from the trunk, a few feet from the ground, and then turns straight upward, thus forming an enviable rustic seat. This quite remarkable tree gives the name to White Oak Avenue, and the red-bud maple upon the same lot, that of Maple Avenue.
Adjoining the Whites' lot on the east, are beautiful grounds, upon the southern slope of which sleep four mem- bers of the McDougall family. and near these rises a lofty and elegant granite monument inscribed with the name of Rust.
Turning southward, we reach White Oak Avenue at its junction with Oakland. High up on its southern bank is the beautiful lot of W. H. Alexander. As we go down- ward through White Oak Avenue. we pass the marble monument of Charles Pope. This, though not large, is one of the most tasteful and elegant designs we have seen. Up the hill in rear of this is a creditable stone inscribed with the name of Beardslee.
Through White Oak Avenue we reach Dedication Valley. one of those spots of unrivaled natural beauty, so many of which go to make up the grandeur of Oakwood. Here
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reigns a Sabbath-like quiet, unbroken save by the song of birds, making it a favorite haunt of visitors.
Upon the sharp slope to the southeast stand the monu- ments of L. W. Comstock and G. H. Peck. We climb the hill to the westward, passing the characteristic memo- rial erected by Lewis H. Redfield. The following is the inscription :-
LEWIS H. REDFIELD, PRINTER. A worn and battered form, Gone to be re-cast More beautiful and perfect.
Above the inscription, is sculptured a fine medallion portrait of Mr. Redfield.
West of this, and nearer Pine Ridge Avenue, stands a lofty granite monument, inscribed on opposite sides with the names of Hall and Clark -- ( L. W. Hall and William Clark. ) The design of this monument is chaste and ele- gant. and the workmanship perfect. It is another evidence of the superior facilities possessed by Mr. James Sharkey, of Brooklyn, for the manufacture of Cemetery work.
We have now reached the top of this long knoll, the western slope of which reaches the boundary of the Cem- . tery, and along whose summit, from south to north sweeps the broad, clean surface of Pine Ridge Avenue. Stand- ing midway in this street, the eye takes in a magnificent
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BURTON.
Oakwood Cemetery.
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ELLEN BURT wiFre# STILES W RUST
SMITH-RUST.
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view. The more prominent monuments of Thurber, Thurwachter, Avery, Bertram, Bates, Leslie, Bradley, Manning, and others, cluster around us, thickly inter- spersed with smaller ones. And here, near by, is the vault of Dr. Shipman-the smallest one in the Cemetery, though one of exquisite beauty, and artistic proportions.
Farther north, its arched sides cut clean against the green background, stands that superb structure, the tomb of Gen. Sumner.
"Soldier, rest ! Thy warfare o'er; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battle fields no more, -- Days of danger, nights of waking."
The artist has given us an accurate illustration of this work.
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Away upon the northern boundary of the grounds, sweeps sunset Avenue, near which rise the grand and im- posing monuments of J. R. Lawrence, and Grove Law- rence. Near these are the smaller marble shafts of John- · son Hall and Loren B. Hart.
From Pine Ridge the green lawn reaching down to Border Avenue, is thickly dotted with the straight senti- nels of the dead. Prominent among them are those inscribed with the names of Loguen, Spaulding, Cleave- land, Shuler, Ayling. Hubbard. Cole, Lewis, Bonner, Hopper. King, Thomas, Bedford, Pratt, and many others.
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Oakwood Cemetery.
Retracing our steps along Pine Ridge Avenue, we pass the monuments of Garrison, Blaisdell, Leeret, Austin, Hair, Root, and others more or less meritorious for size and beauty. To our right from this point, on the westward- falling slope, is the sarcophagus of Dr. Gregory.
Now, as we approach the gateway, we stop to catch a glimpse of the lovely sunset, always so beautiful when witnessed from here. How often have we lingered here, while-
" Along the west the golden bars Still to a deeper glory grew ; Above our heads the faint, few stars Looked out from the unfathomed blue ; And the fair city's clamorous jars Seemed melted in the evening hue."
Near by us rise the grand, imposing arches of the cano- pied tomb of Gen. A. P. Granger. Its variegated colors and magnificent dimensions, make it the finest work of its character in the Cemetery. It forms the subject of a beau- tiful engraving upon another page.
And here the pleased eye rests, also, upon that marvel of artistic loveliness, wrought in spotless marble, and reared to perpetuate the memory of the children of H. D. Denison. It is illustrated herein, and is another gem from the hands of Mr. James Sharkey.
With these many beauties lingering upon our memories. we saunter towards the gate, where we are cordially greet-
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WILKINSON
WILKINSON.
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DENISON.
DENISON.
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ed by Mr. George Gardner ; and we realize more and more what a blessing it is to have such a spot as a resting place for our loved ones. A place to which we will gladly turn for rest and quiet meditation ; a green and flower- laden sleeping-place 'twixt earth and heaven, where we may make ourselves familiar with such pleasant scenes in association with the grim tyrant, Death, that we shall no longer shudder at his approach, but remember that-
" We see but dimly through the mists and vapors Amid these earthly damps ; What seem to us but sad funereal tapers, May be heaven's distant lamps.
There is no death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call death."
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J HERE is a spot far in the green, still wood, Where Nature reigns in solitude alone ; Where the tall trees for countless year . have stood, And flowers have bloomed and faded all unknown ; Where fearless birds soar through the morning skies, And fill the air with varied melodies, While o'er the water's breast dark shadows brood, Flung by the clustering boughs, -- a glorious solitude.
The dead are with us -- where green branches wave, And where the pine boughs cast a deeper gloom ; Vonder a rose-tree marks an early grave, And there, proud manhood sleeps beneath the tomb.
The young, high heart, with vague, bright yearnings filled, Too pure for earth, yet. haply. now fulfilled, Lies mute, perchance, by his who knew not rest Until the damp sod pressed his aching breast.
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And doth it not seem meet
That here earth's weary pilgrims should repose, Far from the hurrying tread of eager feet, Where the last sunbeam at the daylight's close,
Quivers like golden harp-strings 'mid the trees, While with a spirit's touch the evening's breeze Wakens a requiem for the sleepers there, And nature's every breath seems fraught with prayer ?
And when the twilight, in her robe of grey, Flings o'er the earth a veil of mystic light ; While as the glow of even melts away, The stars above grow more intensely bright ; Even as the promise that our God has given,
As fade our hopes on earth, so grow they bright in heaven. Might we not deem them holy spirit eyes, Their vigil keeping in the quiet skies.
Oh! noiseless city of the mighty dead ! Lonely and mute, yet are thine annals fraught With solemn teachings, and thy broad page spread With the rich love of soul-illuming thought, And when the wanderer on the further shore Shall seek its hidden mysteries to explore, Thy hallowed shades, with spirit voices rife, May lead him onward to the gates of life.
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WHITE.
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