Such is time with its changes, and yet the thoughtless race of man
pass on, unheeding the destiny that awaits them, slow to learn the
lessons these solemn places are calculated to teach.
The birds as they sang in the branches, seemed breathing a dirge-like
melody over the departed, and even their thrilling notes sounded
solemn in this sacred place, so strong is the power of association
over the human mind.
After spending some hours in this shady place, and drinking in its
beauties and its solemnities, 'till the mind became softened and
subdued by surrounding influences, we left it, bearing in the memory
all the rich variety of landscape, we had been gazing on.
We visited Fresh Pond, where so many go for amusement. Thus it is
ever, the living sport upon the very graves of the departed. The
scenery here, though beautiful and picturesque, has not the touching
influences of the Cemetery, and so we lingered not there, but returned
again to the busy city to contrast its bustle, and its stir, with the
deep quiet and silent shades of Mount Auburn.
Lines, From Mary to Her Father in California, with Her Daguerreotype.
Papa, I have hither come,
To cheer you in your lonely home;
No wealth of mind to you I bring,
But I would touch the secret spring
That can your best affections move,
The fountain of a father's love.
My perfect likeness here you see,
In infantile sobriety;
But then I jump, and laugh, and play,
And call on mamma all the day;
And though you distant are so far,
I'm calling ever on papa.
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