THE PROPER EXPRESSION OF A RURAL 

 CEMETERY. 



BY PROFESSOR EDWARD NORTH, CLINTON, NEAV YORK. 



One of the stronp^est desires of man is that of expressiiif^ himself to his fellows, 

 and asserting his own individuality. The ways in which, by expressing his indi- 

 viduality, one sways the sentiments, and brightens or glooms the happiness of 

 others, are more numerous than we are apt to suppose. The men who write 

 books, make speeches, and occupy pulpits, are not the only inen who express 

 themselves to their times and their neighborhoods forcibly and influentially. 

 Every one who mixes with his fellows in the affairs of life is a responsible source 

 of influence. He makes a constant expression of himself by his walk and work, 

 his conversation and example. This he does as really as though he issued a daily 

 newspaper, or preached a weekly sermon. The very dress in which he appears 

 among men may intimate the possession of praiseworthy qualities, or may placard 

 and parade subtlest weaknesses that he would fain conceal even from himself. 

 We also express ourselves tangibly and legibly in our religious and political asso- 

 ciations ; in our homes, gardens, and farms. The house one owns and occupies, 

 more especially if it be a house in the country, will betray to passers-by some- 

 thing of his personal tastes, habits, and attributes. 



These different modes of self-expression, in which written or spoken language 

 is replaced by emphatic symbols, belong peculiarly to the living. Yet our self- 

 expression may continue, with more or less of emphasis, even after we have gone 

 to our last slumber. We are not condemned to die like the brute, making no 

 sign, remembered in no epitaph. It is our privilege to speak from our graves, 

 and with this privilege comes the inquiry, what expression we shall choose for 

 ourselves in our place of burial, in the memorials that tell where our dust reposes, 

 in the surroundings and decorations of the spot. What shall be the lessons 

 taught by the grave-ground we expect to occupy, and which, by a serious fore- 

 thought that betokens a man's innate longing for a glorified reunion of soul and 

 body, we select, embellish, and consecrate, in anticipation of death ? Shall the 

 last earthly self-expression we are allowed to make be one of gloom, negligence, 

 and despair, or of hope, cheerful resignation, and pious embellishment ? 



I. In the expression we should choose to embody in our places of sepulchre, 

 ideas of permanence, sacredness, and security, must be allowed to be of the first 

 importance. Interments in the heart of a thronged and garish city, or in a spot 

 through which a thoroughfare is likely to be opened, violate one of the finest, 

 deepest instincts of our nature. The inscription on Shakspeare's monument — 



" Blest be the mean that spares these stones, 

 And curst be he that moves my bones," 



may not fully sort with our conception of posthumous urbanity, but it enunciates 

 a feeling native to human hearts. Every stone in the colossal pyramids built by 

 the toil of centuries and the wealth of empires for the sepulclires of Egyptian 

 kings, proclaims the soul's desire, not more of immortality than of an undisturbed 

 repose for its mortal tabernacle. We desire that the house of clay, tenanted by 

 us for a few short years, and associated with our spiritual struggles and aspirations, 

 should moulder away in silence and inviolate security. What we desire for our- 

 selves we also desire for our kindred, our neighbors, for all, indeed, who share in 

 ortality and our hopes of a better life. AVe sympathize with the heroism of 

 gone in the Attic play, although our sympathy descends to her from the van- 



