290 
RURAL HOURS. 
come, in the course of time, very striking monuments to the dead. 
Nowhere is the stillness of the grave so deeply impressive; tho 
feverish tunnoil of the livmg, made up of pleasure, duty, labor, 
folly, sin, whirling in ceaseless movement about them, is less than 
the passing winds, and the drops of rain to the tenants of those 
grounds, as they lie side by side, in crowded but rmconscious 
company. The present, so full, so fearfully absorbing with tho 
living, to the dead is a mystery ; with those mouldermg remains 
of man the past and the future are the great realities. The still- 
ness, the uselessness if you will, of the old church-yard in the 
heart of the bustling city, renders it a more striking and impres- 
sive memento mori than the skull in the cell of a hcnnit. 
We hear from time to time plans for changes which include 
the breaking up of those old chm'ch-yards in the towns. We are 
told that those old graves are unsightly objects ; that a new 
square on the spot Avould be more agreeable to the neighborhood ; 
that a street at this particular point would be a very convenient 
thoroughfare, and would make A, B, or C richer men by some 
thousands. Such are the motives usually luged in defence of 
the act : — embellishment, convenience, or gain. But which of 
these is of sufficient force to justify the desecration of the tomb ? 
Assuredly necessity alone can excuse the breach of equity, of 
decency, of good faith, and good feeling involved in such a step. 
Man is the natiual guardian of the grave ; the remains of the 
dead are a solemn deposit entimsted to the honor of the living. 
In the hour of death we commend oiu' souls into the hands of 
om- Maker ; we leave our bodies to the care of our fellow-crea- 
tures. Just so long, therefore, as each significant mound bears a 
trace of its solemn character, just so long should it be held sacred 
