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JCKLAND CEMETERY 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
" Here, in the silent forest solitudes, 
 
 Deep in the quiet of these lonely shades, 
 The angelic peace of heaven forever broods, 
 And his own presence fills the solemn glades. 
 
 "Cease, my weak soul, the courts of men to tread. 
 Leave the tumultuous heavings of thy kind. 
 And, by the soul of grateful nature led. 
 
 Seek the still woods, and there thy Sabbath find. 
 
 " Shall worship only live in pillared domes — 
 
 The organ's pealing notes sole anthems raise — 
 While every wind that through the forest roams, 
 
 Draws from its whispering boughs a chant of praise ? 
 
 *' Here the thick leaves that sceni the tremulous air 
 Let the bright sunshine pass with softened light, 
 And lips unwonted breathe instinctive prayer. 
 In these cool arches filled with verdurous night. 
 
 "There needs no bending knee, no costly shrine. 
 No fluctuant crowd to hail divinity : 
 Here the heart kneels, and owns the love divine 
 That made for man the earth so fair and free. 
 
 " Dear is the choral hymn, the murmuring sound 
 Of mutual prayer, and words of holy power ; 
 But give to me the forest's awe profound, 
 ^olian hymns, and sermons from a flower !" 
 
ROCKLAND CEMETERY 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 SUGGESTIONS AND ASSOCIATIONS 
 
 CONNECTED WITH IT 
 
 AND 
 
 A BRIEF STATEMENT OF THE SUPERIOR- 
 ADVANTAGES PRESENTED 
 
 TO 
 
 THOSE WHO DESIRE BEAUTIFUL RESTING 
 PLACES FOR THEIR DEAD 
 
 BV 
 
 WILLIAM WALES 
 
 MAY 2 1883^ 
 
 NEW YORK 
 ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH «& COMPANY 
 
 900 BROADWAY, COR. 20th STREET 
 
Coi'VRIGHT, 1881, 
 
 BY WM. H. WHITON 
 
 Manufacturtd by 
 
 S. W. GREEN'S SON, 
 
 14 & "6 BeekmaQ St., 
 
 NEW YOKK. 
 
CONTE NTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Regard for the Loved and Lost . . i3 
 
 IL The Last Resting-Place ... 21 
 
 in. Tributes to the Departed . . .29 
 
 IV. The Grave as a Home . ■ • 37 
 
 V. The Sea as a Place of Sepulchre . . 47 
 
 VI. The Dead whose Graves are Shrines for the 
 
 Race . . • • • • 55 
 
 VII. The Graves of Heroes . . • -65 
 
 VIII. The Graves of the Lowly in Spirit . 73 
 
 IX. Influence of the Loved Dead on the Living 79 
 
 X. Cremation revolting to Humanity . . 89 
 
 XI. The ASSUR.A.NCE of Immunity for the Dead . 95 
 
 XII. Where the Dead are to find a Resting-Place 105 
 
 XIII. The Origin of Rockland Cemetery . . m 
 
 XIV. The Carrying out of the Design . . n? 
 XV. The Cemetery and its Surroundings . . 123 
 
 XVI. The Fourth and Last Plateau . • 129 
 
 XVII. Route to Rockland Cemetery . . . i37 
 
 XVIII. More desirable and less costly Methods of 
 
 Interment . . • • • ^43 
 
 The Paradox of Time .... 149-50 
 
 Organization, Rules and Regulations . . 152 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Forest View from Cliff Path .... 3 
 
 Entrance Gate and Receiving Tomb . . 11 
 
 South View near Main Entrance . . .19 
 
 Crystal Spring Glen, Main Avenue . . 27 
 
 Entrance from Glen on First Plateau . . -St 
 
 Northern View from First Plateau . . 45 
 
 Southern View from First Plateau . . -53 
 
 Northwestern View from Second Plateau . 63 
 
 [Showing the Ramapo Mountains in the distance.] 
 
 Southwestern View from Second Plateau . . 71 
 
 [Shows Palisade range to Hoboken, the line of the Northern Railroad 
 of New Jersey, the villages of Norwood, Closter, Tenafly, and Engle- 
 wood ; and nearer the observer, the headquarters of Gen. Washington, 
 Tappan Church, in which Andre was tried and convicted, the house in 
 which he was confined as a prisoner, and the monument recently erected 
 by Dean Stanley and Cyrus W. Field to mark the spot of the unfortunate 
 officer's e.xecution and burial.] 
 
 South-south-east View from Second Plateau . 77 
 
 [Showing the village of Sparkill, N. Y., the Palisade range, and the 
 Westchester hills on the opposite side of the Hudson river below Dobbs 
 Ferry, and Hastings.] 
 
 Interior View on Main Avenue . . . .87 
 
 Interior View on Main Avenue near Reservoir . 93 
 
10 List of Illustrations. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 West View from Main Avenue .... 103 
 
 [Showing the Hackensack hills and valley, the Orange and Ramapo 
 Mountains, and in the far distance the peaks of the Shawangunk and 
 Alleghanies.] 
 
 Vista looking South from near Summit of Main 
 Avenue ....... 109 
 
 North View from Summit of Third or Hudson River 
 Plateau . . . . . . .115 
 
 [Showing Hook Mountain and west shore of Tappan Zee.] 
 
 View to the South from Summit of Third Plateau 121 
 
 [Showing Reformed Church at the base of Taulman's Mountain in 
 Piermont, the Hudson River, the village of Hastings, the adjoining hills.] 
 
 View to the South-east from Third Plateau . 127 
 
 [Showing village of Piermont, the Sparkill meadows, Tappan Zee, 
 village of Dobbs Ferry, and the Westchester hills in the distance.] 
 
 View to the North-east from Third oii Hudson 
 
 River Plateau ...... 135 
 
 [The village of Nyack and Hook Mountain on the left, Tappan Zee and 
 the villages of Tarrytown and Sing Sing on the further shore.] 
 
 View directly East from Summit of Third Plateau 141 
 
 [Showing the Boat-house of the Piermont Rowing Association, Tap- 
 pan Zee, with Irvington and Sunnyside, the home of Washington Irving, 
 on the opposite bank.] 
 
 Map of the Cemetery . . . , „ 147 
 
REGARD FOR THE LOVED AND LOST. 
 
 If there is any sentiment whatever that, in the 
 history of the world from the earhest times, dis- 
 tinguishes the highly refined and cultivated nation 
 from the half-civilized or savage one, it is regard 
 for the memory and care of the dead ; and conse- 
 quently, if we study the character and significance 
 of those marvellous structures which as architec- 
 tural wonders are most renowned for their an- 
 tiquity, their stupendous proportions, or their cost 
 and elegance, we shall find them, from the earliest 
 period of the world's history, generally the fruit 
 of tender regret and love, or admiration for those 
 whose departure from earth has made a void to 
 be marked whilst there is a hope of keeping the 
 remembrance of the valued one alive in the human 
 heart. 
 
 And in this regard it is little to the human race 
 
14 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 that Time destroys even tablets of brass ; that with 
 ruthless touch he crumbles into dust and nothing- 
 ness the fairest and noblest monuments erected by 
 man ; but whilst we know this, know that the per- 
 chance fragile memorial which holds its place for 
 a while is 
 
 "Like a flag floating when the bark's engulfed," 
 
 it yet signalizes, at least for the time being to the 
 world around, where went down the noble argosy 
 freighted with so much of love and all most valued 
 by some on earth ; laden with all that friends 
 cherish and weep over here below, become even 
 more precious to the remembrance when reft from 
 us forever. 
 
 Without going backward to Nineveh or Egypt 
 for proof of the strength and the exemplification 
 of this abiding and almost universal feeling in the 
 heart of man, we may note that some of the fairest 
 monuments of Greek and Roman art have been 
 tributes to the sentiment we have indicated ; and 
 apart from the marvellous cost and beauty of 
 many of these ancient structures built to com- 
 memorate the departed, there is not in the litera- 
 ture of all the past, or of the present, anything 
 more noteworthy than the pathos and beauty and 
 poetry of those inscriptions and tributes which 
 
The Loved and Lost. 15 
 
 would embalm, if possible, the regret for the loss 
 sustained. 
 
 We give one of these, not excelled in beauty in 
 any language : 
 
 THE TRYST. 
 
 "The lady of my love — she waits for me 
 
 At our lone trysting-place : the sinking sun 
 Scatters its web of golden broidery 
 
 The sombre sward upon ; 
 Behind the eastern slope of the far height 
 
 The vanward shadows of the twilight wait, 
 Perhaps my lady prays — delay, O Night ! — 
 
 My plighted one is late. 
 
 " Patient she is and calm — she does not speak. 
 But tranquil as with inward peace composed, 
 With long dark eyelashes drooping on her cheek, 
 
 And soft brown eyes fast closed ; 
 My dedicated one doth meekly wait, 
 Yet why he lingers, still forbears to ask. 
 
 "The clouds that troop around the sunset's gate 
 
 Play out their gorgeous masque ; 
 And the day dieth : from the hollows creep 
 
 Night's weird and ghostly husbandmen to sow 
 The darkness on the upland and the steep — 
 
 She does not turn to go ! 
 
 "Lonely she waits where hour succeeds to hour. 
 Nor any moving thing the stillness breaks, 
 Save where, beside her grave, the wind;bowed flower 
 Its quaint obeisance makes. 
 
i6 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 "So, hold thy tryst; nor grieve that he delays 
 Whose lingering steps ruled and appointed be ; 
 
 My course may lie through many devious ways, 
 Yet every river finds at last the sea ; 
 
 And I am faring through this tangled maze 
 To keep my tryst with thee." 
 
 " Weep not lor the friend you have lost, for your 
 tears cannot bring him again !" was the cold and 
 philosophic remark of the ancient sage to the friend 
 bereaved ; but how natural and touching the reply : 
 "It is for that very reason I weep" ! 
 
 Although we know that all our tributes to the 
 dead are to them in vain ; that 
 
 "Flattery cannot soothe the dull cold ear of death ;" 
 
 there is yet that in the human heart, in its deep 
 love and cherished recollections and soitow, that 
 will not be denied expression ; something that in- 
 sists on making a shrine of its affections and asso- 
 ciations with the loved and lost ; for 
 
 " When Death, the Great Reconciler, has come, it 
 is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our 
 severity." 
 
 It does not change or soften the poignancy of 
 grief or remorse to know that pity for the dead is 
 for them too late ; that the tears which water the 
 
The Loved and Lost. 17 
 
 graves of the departed are as futile to awaken any 
 feelings or evidences of forgiveness for neglect, as 
 are the rain-drops which fall upon the sheltering 
 sod. And so, while the victim of remorse — real or 
 fancied — comes with tearful offerings of affection 
 to try to redeem the sad past, and whilst all feel 
 and know that the unconscious dust can never 
 again respond to the once loved voice, yet, invol- 
 untarily perhaps, the doctrine of the immortality 
 of the soul here asserts itself, in the form of a faint 
 hope and trust that the aggrieved spirit, hovering 
 near, may accept the offering of tears and deep 
 contrition proffered thus by the repentant mourner 
 at the grave of the loved and lost. 
 
 " Alas for heedless hearts and blinded sense ! 
 
 With what faint welcome and what meagre fare, 
 What mean subjections and small recompense, 
 We entertain our angels unaware'!" 
 
 And if, as some writer well expresses it, and as 
 the " Bard of all Time" shows in one of his won- 
 drously subtle delineations of human passion, Grief 
 is "fantastic" at times, it is perhaps one of those 
 extravagances which even the thoughtless and 
 frivolous of the world at large excuse, pardoning 
 in pity the manifestation of a sentiment only par- 
 tially understood. 
 
i8 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 And so it is that although the tribute to the 
 loved dead may, as a work of art simply, be un- 
 couth ; a violation of the lines- of beauty and of 
 classical taste — indeed, of almost all we look for 
 and regard in harmony of proportion or in ex- 
 pression even ; yet as the strong and sought to be 
 abiding testimonial of love, of inextinguishable re- 
 gard, it yet has a value priceless to the bereaved, 
 to the community and generation which would 
 commemorate worth and talent ; and thus should 
 not be lightly regarded, even by those most ex- 
 acting in their demands for the fitting and the 
 beautiful. 
 
II. 
 
 THE LAST RESTING-PLACE. 
 
 If the whole world of art has demonstrated 
 from earliest antiquity the existence of passions, 
 of sentiments of grief, of uncontrollable affection 
 in mortals that must find expression in monuments 
 to and mementos of the dead, the sites for many 
 of these magnificent testimonials no less show the 
 love, the fond regard and admiration which seeks 
 beauty of location in which to place the remains 
 of friends thus lost. 
 
 Upon grand promontories by the sea, as with 
 the old Greeks, and later in the choicest and most 
 beautiful localities in and around cities ; in parks 
 or squares, and beneath the costliest edifices, men 
 have placed their dead ; and however some may 
 coldly reason on the futility of grief, however we 
 may assert for ourselves or others that " the dead 
 
22 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 know not anything," yet the sunniest spot where 
 the wild flowers bloom, the bee hums, and the birds 
 sing, appears a natural and indispensable tribute 
 and return to departed loved ones by the great 
 majority of civilized and Christian peoples ; or if 
 the grandeur of a cathedral seems perhaps needful 
 to concentrate human regard and admiration upon 
 the departed great, no sacrifice in this particular 
 seems too considerable, no offering too costly, 
 with those who survive. 
 
 And if we were to make an attempt to measure 
 the depth of grief in some instances by the vast 
 cost of temples and monuments reared as memo- 
 rials of the loss and anguish suffered, the effort 
 would utterly fail, since in this one sad particular 
 none, from the palace to the cot, can be exempt. 
 That almost miracle of architectural beauty and 
 imperial cost and splendor, the " Taj Mahal " of 
 India, simply tells the story of one bereaved human 
 heart seeking solace, however poor and inadequate, 
 in almost priceless sacrifice — in an attempt at self- 
 consolation only to be found at last in the hopes of 
 immortality and reunion beyond the reach of Time 
 and Change. 
 
 Once more we quote from one of those loving 
 and beautiful tributes which abound to the mem- 
 ory of 
 
The Last Resting-place. 23 
 
 THE DEAD. 
 
 " How beautiful is the memory of the dead ! What 
 a holy thing it is in the human heart, and what a 
 chastening influence it sheds upon human life ! How 
 it subdues all the harshness that grows within us in 
 the daily intercourse with the world ! How it melts 
 our kindness, and softens our pride, kindling our 
 deepest love, and waking our highest aspirations ! Is 
 there one who has not some loved friend gone into 
 the eterfial world with whom he delights to live again 
 in memory? Does he not love to sit down in the 
 hushed and tranquil hours of existence, and call 
 around him the face, the form, so familiar and 
 cherished— to look into the eyes that mirror not 
 more clearly his own face than the soul which he 
 loves — to listen to the tones which were once melody 
 in his ear, and have echoed softly in his heart since 
 they were hushed" to his senses ? 
 
 " Is there a spirit to which heaven is not brought 
 nearer by holding some kindred soul ? How friends 
 follow to the happy dwelling-place of the dead, till 
 we find at length that they who love us on the heav- 
 enly shore are more than they who dwell among us ! 
 Every year witnesseth the departure of some one 
 whom we knew and loved; and when we recall the 
 
24 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 names of all who have been dear to lis in life, how 
 many of them we see passed into that city which is 
 imperishable ! 
 
 " The blessed dead ! how free from stain is our love 
 for them ! The earthly taint of our affections is 
 buried with that which was corruptible, and the 
 divine flame in its purity illumes our breast. We 
 have now no fears of losing them. They are fixed 
 forms eternally in the mansions prepared for our 
 reunion. We shall find them waiting for us in their 
 garments of beauty. 
 
 " The glorious dead ! how reverently we speak then 
 names ! Our hearts are sanctified by their words 
 which we remember. How wise they have become 
 by the undying fountains of pleasure ! The immortal 
 dead ! how unchanging is their love for us ! How 
 tenderly they look down upon us, and how closely 
 they surround us ! How earnestly they rebuke the 
 evil of our lives ! 
 
 "Let us talk pleasantly of the dead, as those who 
 no longer pursue the fleeting, but have grasped and 
 secured the real. With them the fear and the long- 
 ing, the hope, and the terror, and the pain are passed; 
 the fruition of life has begun. How unkind that 
 when we put away their bodies we should cease the 
 utterance of their names ! 
 
 " The tender-hearted dead, who so struggle in the 
 starting from us. Why should we speak of them in 
 
The Last Resting-place. 25 
 
 awe, and remember them only with sighing? Very 
 dear were they when hand clasped liand, and heart 
 responded to heart ; why less dear since grown 
 worthy a higher love than ours, and their perfected 
 souls might receive even our adoration by the hearth- 
 side and by the grave-side, in solitude and amid the 
 multitude? Think cheerfully and speak lovingly of 
 the dead." 
 
 In all that we have thus far considered, the prin- 
 ciples of love and resulting regret enthroned in 
 human nature are the same — the cherishing of fond 
 memories, by whatever means, of those who have 
 been dear to us in life. And although to most is 
 denied the power to erect any very costly memo- 
 rials in brass or marble of the love and sorrow 
 which follow the departed, yet not the less may 
 the tribute rendered be fitting and significant and 
 beautiful ; not the less by calling the glories of 
 Nature to our aid, and thus in its floral splendors 
 and its rich scenery may we find some consola- 
 tion — so far as Love and Grief can find it — in 
 these priceless gifts of the Creator to man. 
 
 "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. 
 
26 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 
 By guardian angels led 
 Safe from temptations, safe from sin's pollution, 
 She lives ! whom zve call dead. 
 
 " In her Father's mansion 
 
 Clothed with celestial grace ; 
 And beautiful with all the soul's expression 
 Shall we behold her face." 
 
III. 
 
 TRIBUTES TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 " I see thee still : 
 Thou art not in the tomb confined ; 
 Death cannot claim the immortal mind ; 
 Let earth close o'er its sacred trust, 
 Yet goodness dies not in the dust ; 
 Thee, O beloved ! 'tis not thee 
 Beneath the cofBn's lid I see ; 
 Thou to a fairer land art gone — 
 There, let me hope, my journey done. 
 To see thee still." 
 
 We have already alluded to the many striking 
 and varying forms the expression of Love and 
 Grief takes, and have noted the eloquent and sur- 
 passing pathos which in all ages of the world, and 
 amongst refined and cultivated peoples, has been 
 called out by these passions — apostrophes to affec- 
 tion, to numberless esteemed qualities and loving 
 
30 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 traits with which death has at last hallowed the 
 departed, just as the glorious tints of a setting sun 
 might light up and color with golden effulgence 
 the scenes obscured or dark with the mists and 
 clouds of a day of storms. 
 
 About to disappear from us forever in the silence 
 of the grave, how fondly memory calls up and 
 dwells upon virtues of the dead hardly estimated 
 aright before, upon the many noble or loving traits 
 in life perhaps overlooked, and how with tearful 
 eagerness we hasten to vainly make some amends 
 to the inanimate form soon to be taken from our 
 sight forever ! 
 
 Whatever is associated with the end of hfe — 
 with What has been well termed the " supreme 
 moment" — must always be of intense interest to 
 all ; and so it is that with numbers, the last ten- 
 ement is looked upon as indeed a place of re- 
 pose, and, as such, to be surrounded with all the 
 soothing and consolatory emblems and accompani- 
 ments within reach of surviving kindred and lov- 
 ing friends. In the light of this every-day obser- 
 vation, the relation of an illustrative incident of 
 travel may serve to emphasize the views above 
 advanced, and perhaps be considered not inappro- 
 priate or untimely. 
 
 A walk on one occasion through the extensive 
 
Tributes to the Departed. 31 
 
 graveyard of Marseilles, France, revealed a great 
 many tasteful monuments, the locality being on a 
 high and charming plateau overlooking the mag- 
 nificent bay opening on the Mediterranean outside 
 the harbor proper. Here was to be seen at one 
 spot a beautiful white marble tomb in the form of 
 a miniature Greek temple, just large enough for 
 the visitor to enter through an iron door of open 
 work, a pretty altar filling the rear part of the 
 structure— and this appeared at all times crowned 
 with choice flowers. Indeed, the costly and exquis- 
 itely designed little edifice was quite surrounded 
 with these appropriate tributes of affection; and 
 whilst our attention was absorbed in the contem- 
 plation of a sight so rare, a testimonial so tasteful 
 and so strongly appealing to the best sentiments of 
 human nature, the spot was approached by an 
 elderly lady, who, proceeding to enter and dust 
 the interior, to supply fresh flowers for the altar 
 and tend with loving care the whole place, in- 
 formed the tourist from over the sea, that for five 
 years she had '^ never failed for a single week" 
 to visit this beautiful resting-place of a departed 
 mother and sister. 
 
 Well may we ask, after such a manifestation as 
 
 this, 
 
 "Is human love so very frail a thing?" 
 
32 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 Listen to the lament of one more bereaved heart : 
 
 "An hour before, she spoke of things 
 That memory to the dying brings, 
 
 And kissed me all the while ; 
 Then, after some sweet parting words, 
 She seemed among her flowers and birds, 
 
 Until she fell asleep. 
 
 " 'Twas summer then ; 'tis autumn now ; 
 The crimson leaves fall off the bough, 
 
 And strew the gravel sweep ; 
 I wander down the garden walk, 
 And muse on all the happy talk 
 
 We had beneath the limes. 
 
 "Of golden eves, %vhen she and I 
 Sat watching here the flushing sky. 
 
 The sunset and the sea ; 
 Or heard the children in the lanes. 
 Following home the harvest wains. 
 
 And shouting in their glee. 
 
 " But when the daylight dies away. 
 And ships grow dusky in the bay. 
 
 These recollections cease ; 
 And in the stillness of the night. 
 Bright thoughts, that end in dreams as bright, 
 
 Communicate their peace. 
 
 " I wake and see the morning star, 
 And hear the breakers on the bar, 
 
Tributes to the Departed. 33 
 
 The voices on the shore ; 
 And then, with tears, I long to be 
 Across a dim, unsounding sea. 
 
 With her for evermore." 
 
 We are called upon to part with the beautiful 
 and good, and again the inquiry arises : 
 
 " Why is it that the rainbow and the cloud come 
 over us with a beauty that is not of earth, and then 
 pass away, and leave us to muse on faded loveliness? 
 Why is it that the stars that hold their nightly festi- 
 val around the midnight throne are placed above the 
 reach of our limited faculties, forever mocking us with 
 their unapproachable glory? and why is it that the 
 bright forms of human beauty are presented to our 
 view and then taken from us, leaving the thousand 
 streams of affection to flow back in almighty torrents 
 upon the human heart ? We are born of a larger 
 destiny than that of earth. There is a land where 
 the stars will be set out before us, like islands that 
 slumber in the ocean, and where the beautiful beings 
 that pass before us like meteors will stay in our 
 presence forever." 
 
34 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 THE DEAD. 
 
 " Forget not the Dead, who have loved, who have left us, 
 Who bend o'er us now from their bright homes above ; 
 But believe — never doubt — that the God who bereft us 
 Permits them to mingle with friends they still love. 
 
 " Repeat their fond words, all their noble deeds cherish, 
 Speak pleasantly of them who left us in tears ; 
 Other joys may be lost, but their names should not perish, 
 While Time bears our feet through the valley of years. 
 
 " Dear friends of our youth ! Can we cease to remember 
 The last look of life, and tne low-whispered prayer ? 
 Oh, cold be our hearts as the ice of December 
 
 When Love's tablets record no remembrances there ! 
 
 " Then forget not the Dead, who are evermore nigh us, 
 Still floating sometimes to our dream-haunted bed ; 
 In the loneliest hour, in the crowd, they are by us. 
 Forget not the Dead ! Oh, forget not the Dead ! " 
 
IV. 
 
 THE GRAVE AS A HOME. 
 
 In this view of making a home for the dead a 
 place even for the association of surviving friends 
 with them, it seems a notable thing also, in this 
 period of the world's history and advancement, 
 that the end of life and its certain consequences 
 are becoming more and more what these were to 
 the most refined nations of antiquity, the tomb 
 with them being regarded as a not unwelcome 
 rest from the toils and the trials of existence. 
 
 The ideas so strongly put forth and cherished in 
 mediaeval times, that only emblems of horror were 
 fitting and profitable in contemplating death, are 
 fast giving way to a more consolatory, if not abso- 
 lutely inspiriting view of the case. Men no longer 
 deem it the height of religious inspiration, and as 
 a preparation for the last hour, to kneel before 
 
38 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 ghastly relics of the catacombs ; they no longer — 
 the more wise and contemplative — look upon the 
 inevitable and natural ending of life as an inflic- 
 tion, a punishment, something to be thought of 
 and approached with utter reluctance and horror 
 by the world of humanity. But reconciled to this 
 supreme inevitable by the enlightening and con- 
 soling outlook upon a better life, a future bright 
 with promise to those who will accept it as such, 
 the burden of existence is laid down by myriads 
 as men seek rest at the close of a summer day's 
 toil. Or, seeking shelter as the winter of life over- 
 takes them, they many times accept the tomb as a 
 place of refuge unspeakably welcome from storm 
 and change, or from infirmities no longer easily 
 borne by the worn and tired wayfarer toward a 
 brighter and better world. 
 
 "Death is Birth. No man who is fit to live need 
 fear to die. Poor, faithless souls that we are ! How 
 we shall smile at our vain alarms when the worst has 
 happened ! To us here death is the most terrible 
 word we know. But, when we have tasted its reality, 
 it will mean to us birth, deliverance, a new creation 
 of ourselves. It will be what health is to the sick 
 man. It will be what home is to the exile. It will 
 be what the loved one given back is to the bereaved. 
 As we draw near to it a solemn gladness should fill 
 
The Grave as a Home. 39 
 
 our hearts. It is God's great morning lighting up 
 the sky. Our fears are the terrors of children in the 
 night. The night, with its terrors, its darkness, is 
 passing away; and when we awake it will be into 
 God's sunlight." 
 
 " They will not understand it is death I want," 
 was the oft-repeated plaint of one of the oldest 
 and greatest of earth's intellectual toilers; and 
 when at last the visitor and deliverer so often in- 
 voked came, what friend or admirer did not recog- 
 nize that to the sufferer death was indeed a boon, 
 a glad or welcome release ? 
 
 Well may it be said of the refuge thus kindly 
 provided, and of the world's tired ones : 
 
 " O Land ! O Land ! 
 For all the broken-hearted: 
 The mildest herald by our faith allotted 
 Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand, 
 To lead us, with a gentle hand, 
 Into the land of the great departed — 
 Into the Silent Land !" 
 
 As Time more and more asserts his power. Am- 
 bition and all its noisy brood less and less assert 
 theirs, until most men naturally become subdued 
 and reconciled to the final inevitable. The few 
 grieve not so much over the strength and manl}^ 
 
40 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 graces lost, or, with the gentler sex, the beauty 
 which has taken its departure, as over the changes 
 too often wrought by Time in the human heart ; 
 in the changed expression of the eye ; the less and 
 less fervent grasp of the hand on meeting ; perhaps 
 on the failure of a recognition altogether, as those 
 casually meet who joyously and in good fellowship 
 set out on life's pilgrimage together. These are 
 changes far sadder to contemplate than the droop- 
 ing form, the bowed shoulders, the fading vision 
 and well may we deprecate, with the writer of the 
 following, these evidences of the advance of time, 
 the triumph of pride, selfishness, and coldness, the 
 many baser passions generated too often by the 
 lapse of years and superior success : 
 
 " Touch us, O Time ! with light hand as you pass, 
 Teach us to think it a loving caress ; 
 Tread on our hearts, too, with reverent care, 
 Crush not the flowers of life blooming there ; 
 Furrow our foreheads with care if you will, 
 But let youth linger within our hearts still. 
 
 " 'Mid our dark tresses are fibres of gray — 
 Silent reminders of life's fleeting day ; 
 And when we turn to the shadowy past, 
 On its bright altars lay ashes and dust ; 
 All its fair idols are marked with decay, 
 All its sweet pictures are faded away. 
 
The Grave as a Home. 41 
 
 " Sadly we look for the friends of the past — 
 They of strong heart and the beautiful trust ; 
 Some we find sleeping beneath sculptured stone, 
 Some toiling wearily onward alone ; 
 Some through ambition grown heartless and cold, 
 But one and all, save the dead, growing old. 
 
 " Oft we grow weary of watching in vain. 
 O'er hopes that always but shadows remain ; 
 Weary of counting the joys that have died. 
 Weary of laying bright visions aside ; 
 Weary of taking but dross for pure gold. 
 Weary, so weary, of hearts growing old. 
 
 " Chase from us. Time, all our shadowy fears. 
 Lift from our lives the burden of years ; 
 Shadow our foreheads and sprinkle our hair. 
 But, oh, shield our hearts from the furrows of care ! 
 Let not the heart grow selfish or cold, 
 And we shall no longer fear to grow old." 
 
 Again we quote : 
 
 " All that nature has prescribed must be good; and 
 as Death is natural to us, it is absurdity to fear it. 
 Fear loses its purpose when we are sure it cannot 
 preserve us, and we should draw resolution to meet 
 it from the impossibility to escape it." 
 
 And yet, as has well been declared, " Life is a 
 great and glorious gift" — great and glorious to 
 him who appreciates and makes use of its oppor- 
 
42 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 tunities aright ; but alas ! how very few early com- 
 prehend the vital truths comprised in the eloquent 
 words below, that 
 
 " The mere lapse of years is not life. To eat and 
 drink and sleep; to be exposed to darkness and the 
 light; to pace round in the mill of habit, and turn the 
 wheel of wealth; to make reason our doorkeeper and 
 turn thought into an implement of trade — this is not 
 life. In all this but a poor fraction of the conscious- 
 ness of humanity is awakened, and the sanctities still 
 slumber which make it most worth while to live. 
 Knowledge, truth, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone 
 can give vitality to the mechanism of existence. The 
 laugh of mirth which vibrates through the heart; the 
 tears which freshen the dry waste within; the music 
 that brings childhood back; the prayer that calls the 
 future near; the doubt that makes us meditate; the 
 death tnat startles us with mystery; the hardship that 
 forces us to struggle; the anxiety that ends in trust — 
 are the true nourishment of our natural being." 
 
 " Woods have their blossoms which we ne'er behold, 
 And skies their worlds whose light is never shown, 
 Ocean its treasures of unnoted gold, 
 
 And earth her heroes that are all unknown. 
 
 " You meet them as you pass, and heed them not ; 
 You may not know what hosts before them fell ; 
 You may not count the battles they have fought — 
 The wreaths that crown them are invisible. 
 
The Grave as a Home. 43 
 
 Yet they have fought and conquered ; they have bent 
 Night after night beside the couch of pain, 
 
 They have confronted scorn and death, and lent 
 Their blood to make the stricken whole again. 
 
 They have been pilgrims to that desert shrine 
 Which Sorrow rears in the bleak realm, Despair ; 
 
 Oft have they struggled in that gloomy mine 
 Where only dust is made the toiler's share. 
 
 They have beheld their sweetest hopes decay ; 
 
 Oft have they seen their brightest dreams depart ; 
 Have seen their golden idols turned to clay. 
 
 And many bear within a broken heart. 
 
 Their veiled and mighty scars they ever bear — 
 Those scars that lie deep burned into the soul, 
 
 Won where the flaming eyes of vengeance glare. 
 And the tumultuous fires of passion roll. 
 
 They have been victors ! they have conquered fields 
 Earth's dreaded Hannibals could never win ; 
 
 They have struck down the sword Ambition wields. 
 And trampled Lust, and chained the hands of Sin. 
 
 They have won captives ! their sweet tones have brought 
 
 The erring back to virtue's flowery path ; 
 Their own and others' hearts submission taught 
 
 To God's high will, and smoothed the brow of wrath. 
 
 They drink the dregs of trembling ; but their moans 
 And anguished wails they stifle in the breast ; 
 
 They say there is an Ear that hears their groans, 
 And in His house the weary will find rest. 
 
44 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " Want, grief, the scorn of men on them descend- 
 They only say it is His righteous will : 
 With chastening spirits to that will they bend, 
 Believing, striving, hoping, loving stilL 
 
 " Oh ! there are daily martyrdoms that we 
 
 Heed not — the sufferers are to us unknown, 
 But angels from the walls of Eden see 
 
 How glorious are the laurels they have won." 
 
THE SEA AS A PLACE OF SEPULCHRE. 
 
 Perhaps the most unwelcome vision that many 
 travellers abroad are compelled to contemplate is 
 a possible " burial at sea," a consignment to that 
 grave that has no depth, or locality, or monument; 
 the restless, tossing, moaning sea, which, however 
 we may reason upon it, would seem destined to 
 rock uneasily forever the sleeper always sadly and 
 reluctantly surrendered to its keeping. 
 
 The cry of the human heart ever is to be spared 
 from this drear fate— a fate deprecated in infinite 
 forms by those who have reflected upon it, for 
 
 " Who could to those depths consign 
 Her flower, her hope ?" 
 
 The best that man can do under such circum- 
 stances is to submit ; to remember with the same 
 gifted writer in the sequel to the question, that 
 
48 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " Thou art with him there, 
 
 Pledge of the untired arm, 
 
 And eye that cannot sleep : 
 The eye that watches o'er old ocean's dead, 
 
 Each in his narrow cave, 
 Safely as if the green turf wrapp'd his head, 
 
 Fast by his father's grave." 
 
 And still thinking of the sea, we remember the 
 story of what the old Norsemen did : that the dear- 
 est and highest tribute they could pay to their 
 dead kings and heroes was to place the inanimate 
 form on the deck of his favorite war-ship, sur- 
 rounded by all the spoils of war, the jewels and 
 weapons that in his lifetime were most precious 
 to the departed, and so begirt, and the ship com- 
 mitted to the fierce winds out on the tossing sea, 
 the whole were at last consigned to the flames and 
 the waves combined— a grand funeral pageant and 
 sacrifice to the destructive forces, of which the 
 great dead had in his vocation been a part. 
 
 We contemplate all this, but we feel that there 
 could have been no tenderness in such a disposi- 
 tion of the dead. There was stern admiration 
 indeed, a precious offering to the sea, to the god 
 of battles, and all else that to the gentle and loving 
 of a more enlightened and humane age could only 
 be terrible and revolting to contemplate ; but to 
 
The Sea as a Sepulchre. 
 
 49 
 
 such a grave there could be no loving or regretful 
 pilgrimage, httle to keep alive in the human heart 
 that yearning love and sorrow for the dead which, 
 after all, is the richest and most precious tribute 
 the living can pay to those whose loving voices 
 are stilled, and whose affectionate glances are shut 
 out from us forever. 
 
 The perpetual moaning of the sea would seem 
 indeed to be a continuous requiem for the myriads 
 of the loved and lost for which it has constituted 
 itself one vast tomb, and to thousands who listen 
 to the " sad sea waves" they have no other voice ; 
 for, as if lamenting for its own sake the part it 
 has taken in the bereavement of millions, it never 
 needs an interpreter for any of those who thought- 
 fully stand upon its shores. A tomb for " multi- 
 tudes no man can number" who have gone down 
 to its sunless depths in all their beauty and glad- 
 ness and strength, a grave for treasures such as in 
 value earth knows not to-day, let those who have 
 been called upon to surrender loved ones to its 
 unquiet keeping find a fitting monody for their 
 woes in the following beautiful apostrophe to its 
 mournful voices, its ceaseless plaints : 
 
50 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " Mourn on, O solitary sea ! 
 
 I love to hear thy moan, 
 The world's lament, attuned to melody, 
 In thy undying tone ; 
 Lo ! on the yielding sand I lie alone, 
 
 And the white cliffs around me draw their screen. 
 And part me from the world. Let me disown 
 For one short hour its pleasures and its spleen. 
 And, wrapt in dreamy thought, some peaceful moments glean. 
 
 " No voice of any living thing is near. 
 Save the wild sea-bird's wail. 
 That seems the cry of sorrow deep and drear, 
 That nothing can avail ; 
 Now in the air with broad white wing they sail, 
 
 And now descending dot the tawny sand, 
 Now rest upon the waves ; yet still their wail. 
 Of bitter sorrow floats towards the land, 
 Like grief which change of scene is powerless to command. 
 
 " The sea approaches, with its weary heart, 
 Moaning unquietly ; 
 An earnest grief, too tranquil to depart, 
 Speaks in that troubled sigh : 
 Yet its glad waves seem dancing merrily, 
 
 For hope from them conceals the warning tone; 
 Gayly they rush towards the shore — to die, 
 
 All their bright spray upon the bare sand thrown, 
 While still around them wails the sad and ceaseless tone. 
 
 " And thus it is in life, and in the breast 
 Gay sparkling hopes arise, 
 
The Sea as a Sepulchre. 51 
 
 Each one in turn just shows its gleaming crest, 
 Then falls away and dies. 
 On life's bare sands each cherished vision lies, 
 
 Numbered with those that will return no more ; 
 There, early love — youth's dearly cherished ties — 
 Bright dreams of fame, lie perished on the shore, 
 "While the worn heart laments what grief can ne'er restore. 
 
 " Yet still the broken waves, retiring, strive 
 Again their crests to rear. 
 Seeking in sparkling beauty to revive 
 As in their first career : 
 They strive in vain — their lustre, bright and clear. 
 
 Forsakes them now, with earth all dim and stained ; 
 And thus the heart would raise its visions dear, 
 
 And shape them new from fragments that remained. 
 
 But finds their brightness gone, by earth's cold touch profaned. 
 
 " Long have I lingered here : the evening fair 
 In robe of mist draws nigh. 
 The sinking sea sighs forth its sad despair 
 More and more distantly : 
 Hushed is the sea-bird's melancholy cry, 
 
 For night approaches with the step of age, 
 When youth's sharp griefs are softened to a sigh, 
 And the dim eye afar beholds the page 
 That holds the record sad of sorrow's former rage. 
 
 " And Nature answers my complaining woe 
 With her own quiet lore ; 
 Bids me observe the mist ascending slow 
 From the deserted shore : 
 
52 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 And learn that, scattered and defiled no more, 
 The fallen waves are wafted to the skies ; 
 
 That thus the hopes. I bitterly deplore, 
 
 Though fast they fall before my aching eyes, 
 
 Fall but in tears on earth, to heaven unstained to rise. 
 
VI. 
 
 THE DEAD WHOSE GRAVES ARE 
 SHRINES FOR THE RACE. 
 
 The most touching and earnest tributes of the 
 heart are seldom rendered to the mightiest of the 
 race. The pilgrim to Perc-la-Chaisc indulges few 
 or no sentiments of regretful tenderness as he 
 stands before this or that stately cenotaph erected 
 over the remains and to signalize the deeds of 
 men whose triumphs in war or statesmanship have 
 reverberated around the world. But the visitor, 
 lingering at the unpretentious tablet which marks 
 the last resting-place of those unfortunates, Abe- 
 lard and Heloise, recalls with feelings of pity the 
 story of their lives, their loves, and their misfor- 
 tunes, an involuntary tribute to the poor dust 
 which for centuries has been a shrine for the sym- 
 pathizing and the true of every land. 
 
 Then for the graves of the possibly selfish and 
 unloved in the corner of some nesflccted and dark 
 
$6 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 churchyard, like that the spirit of " Christmas to 
 Come" revealed to Ebenezer Scrooge as possibly 
 his own ! Can any one contemplate such a spot 
 and such a destiny — too often a real experience — 
 without a shudder? and, more and more by such 
 contrast, does it not show where the loved and 
 honored should rest — where the sunlight falls and 
 the shadows dance, where legendary lore tells us 
 the fairies swing in the flower-bells and the butter- 
 flies flit by on gilded wings, where the summer 
 breeze comes laden with the perfume of flowers, 
 and young men and maidens walk fearlessly and 
 in gladness among the loveliest and most soothing 
 scenes of Nature ? . 
 
 " In the cold ground ?" said the child. " No," replied 
 the girl, " in the warm ground, where the roots of the 
 flowers spring, and the green grass weaves a roof over 
 the tired sleeper reposing in peace below ; in the 
 warm ground, warmed by the sun and haunted by the 
 robin and thrush, where the summer wind sighs a 
 requiem, and summer showers give tears for the loved 
 and lost." 
 
 We know what Westminster Abbey, Holyrood 
 Abbey, and similar places all over the world pre- 
 sent as gathering places of the illustrious dead ; 
 but all the multitudes congregated in these and 
 
Shrines for the Race. 57 
 
 other celebrated receptacles of the kind, along 
 with the sculptured memorials inseparable from 
 them, do no more to hallow these places, not any 
 more, combined, make them marked spots in the 
 world's thoughts, than has been done b)^ such an 
 one as Shakespeare for Avon, by Burns for Ayr, 
 or by the author of the " Elegy in a Country 
 Churchyard " for his old home. Knowing this, 
 reflecting upon it, even the most covetous of fame, 
 of posthumous renown for themselves or friends, 
 may not envy those who have already achieved a 
 resting-place and a name in the great mausoleums 
 dedicated to the famous in the world's history. 
 It is the loved dead, singly, oftentimes, who make 
 memorable and appear to hallow whatever locality 
 gives them a tomb ; and remembering this, such a 
 reflection should console even the most ambitious 
 of the world's toilers up the " steep of Fame," or 
 the friends and admirers who with eager looks 
 watch their upward progress. 
 
 " And those who come because they loved 
 
 The mouldering frame that lies below. 
 Shall find their anguish half removed 
 
 While that sweet spot shall soothe their v?oe. 
 The notes of happy birds alone 
 
 Shall there disturb the silent air, 
 And when the cheerful sun goes down, 
 
 His beams shall linger longest there." 
 
5$ Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 Were it not that consolation comes to us in 
 numberless forms to reconcile us to the great and 
 final change which awaits all, to atone to us in 
 some degree for the parting with those most dear 
 to us, we might sit down in blank despair of any 
 compensation to be had. But when nearly the 
 entire human race are found confiding, in some 
 form, in the promise given or implied of life to 
 come, in the hope and expectation of a happier 
 hereafter, involuntarily perhaps, at the approach 
 of disease, or danger, or death, the thought of 
 this far-reaching sentiment dominates everything 
 else. In this view, men who it is supposed are 
 most devoted to the fierce rivalries or gayeties 
 around them, least impressed, at a distance from 
 the event, with the impending and great change, 
 suddenly, when it is upon them, seem reconciled, 
 both for themselves and friends, to the approach- 
 ing inevitable, preparing for it with a calmness or 
 resignation which seems all but phenomenal to the 
 chance observer of the scene. 
 
 The cases are infinite in number where men of 
 the largest material wealth and prosperity — men 
 who along with this have shown themselves fairly 
 devotees to public honors or other controlling 
 objects — when suddenly arrested in such career 
 
Shrines for the Race. 59 
 
 have laid down perhaps with a smile all this, as if 
 merely called to a single night's repose. 
 
 It is true that, when apparently in no immediate 
 danger of the last summons, most men give little 
 or no consideration to its sudden possibihty. But 
 the fact that in so many cases the final inevitable 
 is readily and apparently with willingness accept- 
 ed, appears to show that long before the trial 
 comes, men almost as quietly prepare for it. 
 
 " Ah, David, David ! this it is that makes it so 
 hard for a man to die !" was the remark of Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson to his friend Garrick on being 
 late in life shown over the fine London mansion of 
 the latter, with its costly pictures and statuary. 
 Yet it does not appear that the great actor had 
 half the fear of death that beset the " great moral- 
 ist" and philosopher, who had but httle of the 
 world's goods to leave behind, and who perhaps, 
 cynically or enviously, seized the occasion alluded 
 to to rebuke his old friend's pride of success. 
 
 In the hour of trial, as already intimated, men 
 find sources of consolation they had scarcely 
 thought of turning to when all was bright and 
 pleasant ; and more especially do the gentler sex. 
 One of these consoling reflections is so beautifully 
 shown in the following by a distinguished poetess, 
 applied in the case of a loved child, that it may 
 
6o Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 well commend itself to myriads in like manner be- 
 reaved, and who from the same high source may 
 find consolation : 
 
 " When on my ear your loss was knelled, 
 
 And tender sympathy upburst, 
 A little spring from memory swelled, 
 
 Which once had soothed my bitter thirst ; 
 And I was fain to bear to you 
 
 A portion of its mild relief, 
 That it might be as healing dew 
 
 To steal some fever from your grief. 
 
 " After our child's untroubled breath 
 
 Up to the Father took its way, 
 And on our home the shade of death 
 
 Like a long twilight haunting lay ; 
 And friends came roimd with us to weep 
 
 Her little spirit's swift remove, 
 This story of the Alpine sheep 
 
 Was told to us by one we love : 
 
 " They in the valley's sheltering care 
 
 Soon crop the meadow's tender prime, 
 And when the sod growrs brown and bare 
 
 The shepherd strives to make them climb 
 To airy shelves of pasture green, 
 
 That hang along the mountain side. 
 Where grass and flowers together lean. 
 
 And down through mists the sunbeams slide. 
 
Shrines for the Race. 6i 
 
 ' But nought can tempt the timid things 
 
 That steep and rugged path to try, 
 Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings, 
 
 And seared below the pastures lie ; 
 Till in his arms their lambs he takes, 
 
 Along the dizzy verge to go : 
 Then, heedless of the rifts and breaks, 
 
 They follow on o'er rock and snow. 
 
 " And in these pastures lifted fair. 
 
 More dewy soft than lowland mead. 
 The shepherd drops his tender care, 
 
 And sheep and lambs together feed. 
 This parable by nature breathed, 
 
 Blew on me as the south wind free 
 O'er frozen brooks, that float unsheathed, 
 
 From icy thraldom to the sea. 
 
 " A blissful vision through the night 
 
 Would all my happy senses sway, 
 Of the good Shepherd on the height, 
 
 Or climbing up the stony way. 
 Holding our little lamb asleep. 
 
 While, like the burthen of the sea. 
 Sounded that voice along the deep. 
 
 Saying, ' Arise and follow me ! ' " 
 
 The resignation to the decrees of the inevitable, 
 so beautifully portrayed in the foregoing, comes 
 to numbers ; but so long as the race is subject to 
 the deep love and grief and passionate regret that 
 come to thousands, there will yet be others whose 
 
62 Rockland Cemetery, 
 
 over-burdened hearts cannot find any relief this 
 side their final homes. The hearts of all such 
 will sadly and earnestly respond to the expression 
 of tenderness and anguish^ conveyed in the follow- 
 ing beautiful lines: 
 
 " How can we live and bear to miss 
 
 Out of our lives this life most rare? 
 Tender, so tender ! an angel's kiss 
 
 Hallowed it daily unaware. 
 Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew 
 
 Shut in a lily's golden core, 
 Fragrant with goodness through and through, 
 
 Pure as the spikenard Mary bore, 
 Holy as twilight, soft as dawn, 
 She is gone." 
 
VII. 
 
 THE GRAVES OF HEROES. 
 
 The graves of heroes — of heroes of the sword, 
 of those to whom the tribute of a costly burial 
 is conceded because they were such — seem not 
 alwa3-s desirable places ; and such an one, as 
 marked amongst such, is the grave of that re- 
 nowned lieutenant of the first Napoleon, Marshal 
 Kleber. In the centre of a great square in Stras- 
 burg, the pavement of flinty boulders reaching 
 close up to the spot on either side, not a blade of 
 grass even to soften the aspect of the place, the 
 remains of the great military leader are placed, 
 his effigy on a pedestal above. But anything 
 more hard and desolate, more lone than this grave 
 around which the city's traffic, even to the mar- 
 ket-wagons, surges and rattles to and fro, shaking 
 with the stony jar the dust which after a stormy 
 career amidst the noise of battles one would think 
 
66 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 should fain have rest, can hardl}'' be imagined. And 
 however, again and again, the thought may force 
 itself that the distinguished dead is forever past 
 all consciousness of his surroundings, is insensible 
 to all annoyances, the associations of ideas in the 
 minds of the living will continue, and the fitness 
 of the place as a spot for final repose be involun- 
 tarily questioned by the thoughtful looker-on. 
 
 And we may mention in this connection the not 
 less forlorn destiny, in some aspects of it, reached 
 by another of the great Napoleon's lieutenants, 
 General Dessaix, Sacrificed under the eye of his 
 ambitious master in the great game for empire be- 
 gun upon the plains of Italy, no ordinary tomb or 
 place of sepulchre could be allowed to mark the 
 signal regard felt for him; and so an ancient and 
 massive Greek sarcophagus, despoiled of the ashes 
 of its^ first tenant, was chosen by Napoleon as the 
 receptacle of the body of the distinguished dead, 
 and the very Alps even were made to constitute a 
 part of his monument, by the transportation of the 
 huge stone coffin and its occupant to a high eleva- 
 tion on the mountains, at cost and labor almost 
 infinite. 
 
 Again, monuments which are tombs for this 
 class of the world's celebrated ones are not un- 
 common upon great battle-fields, places where 
 
The Graves of Heroes. 6^ 
 
 Glory crowns the unconscious dead, those locali- 
 ties perhaps made desolate by the red pathway 
 of the desti"oying hosts through fields and hamlets, 
 as the dwelling-places of the peaceful inhabitants 
 have gone down before artillery or the flames 
 kindled by the incendiary torches of contending 
 armies. There, men who fell in a death-struggle 
 with each other rest peacefully enough side by 
 side at last ; but whilst places thus reddened by 
 human gore are in many cases hallowed as the 
 birth-places of Liberty, as the sacrificial altars 
 to Human Rights, these are, after all, inevitably 
 fraught with saddening memories, and regrets that 
 earth could from any cause demand so terrible a 
 sacrifice. 
 
 And whilst it is a blessed thing that Nature 
 kindly strives to hide with grass and flowers the 
 many dreadful marks of the fierce struggle ; while 
 Time and the summer rains combine to level the 
 neglected and lonely hillocks that mark where the 
 waves of battle surged to and fro as victory hung 
 in the balance — the changes of centuries even fail 
 to obliterate the harrowing and sorrowful remem- 
 brance of the spot so stamped with the evil pas- 
 sions of men : and contemplating such, we turn to 
 the story of the " Country Church3-ard," as told 
 by the poet of the peaceful English hamlet, with a 
 
68 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 feeling of relief, an assurance that all is not made 
 the prey of human passions and fierce ambition, 
 that words may not express. 
 
 " The tombs of princes, they are found 
 
 Amidst cathedral halls, 
 With gold and marble glist'ning round 
 
 The high and trophied walls : 
 The crown and sceptre imaged fair, 
 Proclaiming who sleeps honored there. 
 
 " They of the red hand whose fame 
 Hath filled the wondering world — 
 
 They, too, sepulchral honors claim, 
 And sleep with banners furled ; 
 
 A glorious and tnumphant band — 
 
 Among the great ones of the land. 
 
 " And it is well — an empire's lord 
 
 Should fill a gorgeous grave ; 
 They of the senate and the swor 
 
 Let them due honors have : 
 Thrice holy, if a nation's love 
 Have ranked them with the just above. 
 
 " But where are they, the nameless Dead, 
 
 Who, since the birth of Time, 
 Their life-blood generously have shed 
 
 In Freedom's cause sublime ? 
 Aye, where are they ? no trophy waves 
 Above their unrecorded graves. 
 
The Graves of Heroes. 69 
 
 " And where your martyrs' radiant truth 
 
 Who on the flaming pyre, 
 In hoary age and blooming youth, 
 
 Have stood baptized in fire? 
 Their death songs have gone up to heaven — 
 Where are their sacred ashes driven ? 
 
 ** Ask we the winds — the rushing blast 
 
 Hath borne them far and wide ; 
 Some in the forest's depths are cast, 
 
 Some on the green hill's side ; 
 Oh ! that meet fruits might crown such seed, 
 That were a harvest rich indeed. 
 
 " Your tombs, ye wanderers, who repose 
 'Neath Afric's sunny sky. 
 Rejoicing even in life's drear close 
 
 For Science' sake to die — 
 Say, who to grace your exil'd dust, 
 Hath reared funereal urn or bust ? 
 
 " Ye sleep amid the desert's calm — 
 
 Even where you gasping fell. 
 Beneath the obeliskal palm, 
 
 Or nigh the brackish well : 
 And but the camel's echoing tread 
 Furrows the light sand o'er your head. 
 
 " I gazed upon a field of death, 
 
 Where kingdoms had been won. 
 What saw I ? — the green sod beneath — 
 
 Above, the golden sun ; 
 While one proud chieftain bore away 
 The laurels of that blood-red day. 
 
70 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " Rear, rear the cenotaph; but no — • 
 Twice better thus to rest 
 Like gems whose hidden glories glow 
 Deep, deep in nature's breast." 
 
VIII. 
 
 THE GRAVES OF THE LOWLY IN SPIRIT. 
 
 It appears to be in the hearts of many of those 
 most favored of Fortune, of many who are distin- 
 guished, notwithstanding their elevation, for the 
 quiet graces which mark Uves that have been 
 ornaments to the race — it appears to be the desire 
 of many such, to be buried unostentatiously; to 
 have no more assumed for them on being con- 
 signed to the last narrow house than has been 
 shown in the whole of a life-long career. 
 
 In the annals of the Empire of India is given 
 the case of a young girl, the daughter of the Em- 
 peror Shah Jehan, which may serve as an illustra- 
 tion of humility so lovely and so surprising, under 
 all the circumstances, as to cause us to recall the 
 story of it here. 
 
 Born and reared in one of the most brilliant and 
 
74 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 mighty courts of the world, surrounded with a 
 dazzling splendor such as even at the present day, 
 in the same country, almost confounds the visitor 
 from other lands, her request for a humble grave, 
 a quiet and unpretentious resting-place, is one of 
 the most remarkable and affecting incidents of the 
 kind on record. 
 
 " Let no rich canopy rise over my grave. The 
 grass is the best covering for the poor in spirit, the 
 humble, the ephemeral Jehanara, the disciple of the 
 holy men of Cheest, the daughter of the Emperor 
 Shah Jehan." 
 
 What an example and a lesson of humility to 
 thousands, even of Christian countries, where the 
 arrogance of life is not laid down even at the gates 
 of death ! 
 
 Resembling this in one respect is the case of one 
 of the most famous of the followers of Columbus, 
 the renowned flower of Spanish chivalry, Ojeda. 
 Prominent above nearly all his compeers in arms 
 and adventures for his knightly accomplishments, 
 his graces as a courtier, and withal for his pride, 
 he, after assuming the vocation and garb of a monk, 
 and in deep repentance and humility of heart for 
 what he considered a past frivolous life, caused 
 
The Lowly in Stirit. 75 
 
 his remains to be interred in the entrance of a 
 monastery in Santo Domingo, "that every one 
 who entered might tread upon his grave " ! How 
 humble and broken must have been that spirit ; 
 how cast down that arrogance which could de- 
 sire a burial like that ; and what a lesson to 
 haughty humanity wrapped up in and devoted to 
 earthly ambition ! 
 
 " We might have been ! these are out common words, 
 And yet they make the sum of life's bewailing : 
 They are the echo of those finer chords, 
 Whose music life deplores when unavailing. 
 We might have been 1 
 
 " We might have been so happy ! says the child 
 Pent in the weary school-room during summer. 
 Where the green rushes 'mid the marshes wild, 
 And rosy fruits, attend the radiant comer. 
 We might have been ! 
 
 '■ It is the thought that darkens on our youth, 
 
 When first experience — sad experience — teaches 
 What fallacies we have believed for truth, 
 And what few truths endeavor ever reaches. 
 We might have been ! 
 
 " Alas ! how different from what we are, 
 
 Had we but known the bitter path before us ; 
 But feelings, hopes, and fancies left afar. 
 
 What in the wide, blank world can e'er restore us ? 
 We might have been ! 
 
^6 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 "It is the motto of all human things, 
 
 The end of all that wait on mortal seeking ; 
 The weary weight upon Hope's flagging wings, 
 It is the cry of the worn heart while breaking. 
 We might have been ! 
 
 Henceforth how much of the full heart must be 
 A sealed book, at whose contents we tremble ? 
 
 A still voice utters 'midst our misery 
 
 The worst to hear — because it must dissemble — 
 We might have been ! 
 
 Life is made up in miserable hours ; 
 
 And all of which we craved a brief possession. 
 For which we wasted wishes, hopes, and powers, 
 
 Comes with some fatal drawback on the blessing. 
 We might have been ! 
 
 The future never renders to the past 
 The young beliefs intrusted to its keeping ; 
 
 Inscribe one sentence — life's first truth and last — 
 On the pale marble where our dust is sleeping — 
 We might have been ! " 
 
IX. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE LOVED DEAD 
 UPON THE LIVING. 
 
 There is probably no feeling more deeply im- 
 planted in the universal human heart than a con- 
 viction more or less strong that the spirits of the 
 loved dead are at times with us, and to some ex- 
 tent are cognizant of the sorrow and regard which 
 clings to and cherishes their memory. And when 
 we see them in dreams, in waking visions, in 
 reveries, how natural that we should follow them 
 to that gateway where they seemed to make their 
 exit — how natural that we should visit again and 
 again the dust which once enshrined all most 
 valued on earth ! 
 
 And although in the light of human reason, in 
 the experience of all, no friend comes back to re- 
 new the loving intercourse which was as light to 
 
So Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 our paths, although to all the passionate invoca- 
 tions prompted by grief no dear voice responds, 
 we are willing to accept — if it must be so — the 
 charge against us of superstition, of weakness, of 
 folly even, rather than give up the shadow, pos- 
 sibly, of the hope we cherish, the almost belief that 
 the loved dead are, in some sense, with us again. 
 
 And in the brief consideration of this matter we 
 must confess to no familiarity whatever with the 
 " Spiritualism" of the times. It was the remark 
 of a great writer that " all men are more super- 
 stitious than they are willing to acknowledge even 
 to themselves," he himself being no exception to 
 the truth avowed. But how barren w^ould appear 
 the outlook and surroundings to all thoughtful 
 minds, to all loving hearts, if ruled down to the 
 hard, material world around ! how would the heart 
 and mind shrink from the coutemplation of sub- 
 stance and matter, merely and only as such, as we 
 understand the meaning in the ordinary accepta- 
 tion of those terms ! 
 
 The voice of the wind, the perfume of flowers, 
 the tones of music, a thousand subtle influences 
 and memories " striking the electric chain where- 
 with we are darkly bound," connect us with the 
 dead, even of long years gone by. And- when 
 they come to us in dreams, with a power and 
 
Influence of the Loved Dead. 8i 
 
 vividness, a brightness which no material portrait- 
 ure of earth could ever equal, we listen to their 
 kindly voices and press their hands, shall we fall 
 back on poor human nature, however vaunted in 
 its powers in dealing with other things, and repel 
 these possiblv loving visitants to us from the world 
 unseen ? 
 
 Indeed, illustrated by myriad cases of human 
 experience, what do we really know, at last, of the 
 actual nearness or remoteness of that boundless 
 universe peopled with the unnumbered millions 
 who have gone before ? What means have the 
 living of judging aright of the' glorious visions, the 
 startling perceptions of the eager spirit leaving its 
 wrecked mansion here, and, half way entered on 
 that other sphere of existence, perhaps called back 
 for a few brief moments to tell the story of angelic 
 beings who have beckoned to him from the other 
 shore, before taking leave of us in the flesh for- 
 ever ? 
 
 Of one of these happy departures, the last hours 
 of one of those almost angelic beings who are per- 
 mitted for a time to brighten with their loving 
 presence the sphere in which they move, we have 
 the blessed testimony, from the tearful listeners by 
 her bedside, that 
 
82 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " Words were uttered then that will be tears of 
 gratitude in the memory of all who heard them — 
 gratitude to God for His grace and love to her in life 
 and death, and for that opening vision of the light 
 and glory of heaven which expelled all the darkness 
 of the valley of the shadow of death." 
 
 We reflect upon all this, and only to lose our- 
 selves in the maze where poor human reason 
 strives to throw some light upon our dim path- 
 Avay ; but shall we be content to coldly endeavor 
 to assure oui-selves that all this must be a mere 
 figment of the brain, the fruit of our own imagin- 
 ings ? Shall we bow once more to the dust and 
 turmoil of existence here, stolidly turning our 
 backs upon the loved ones who may possibly 
 hover about our steps to " minister" to us for 
 good? 
 
 And if these are the sentiments of the more 
 thoughtful and loving ever3'where, what more 
 natural and fitting than the endeavor to associate 
 ourselves with them, and with the memories which 
 have endeared them to us in life ? What more 
 dear than for us to cherish all that is left of them 
 here below? In this regard the haunting and 
 eager hope becomes to the bereaved a veritable 
 consciousness, and finds a voice to which myriads 
 can respond : 
 
Influence of the Loved Dead. 83 
 
 " Thou art not with me — yet thou art : 
 I feel thy presence round me here ; 
 
 Low tones of joy are in my heart, 
 I know thy spirit hovers near ! 
 
 Oh, may it ever with me dwell, 
 
 And guard me by its holy spell !" 
 
 The feeling of loving and tender association is 
 in all this awakened and intensified. 
 
 " To live in human hearts we leave behind 
 Is not to die !" 
 
 Again, men are made to reflect that life is not 
 all traffic, is not all a struggle for the material re- 
 wards of the world. Even fierce Ambition is chas- 
 tened, and sordid Greed checked and subdued in 
 presence of the influences indicated, until some- 
 thing approaching a right consciousness is reached, 
 and men concede something to the memory and 
 to the homes of the dead, whilst constrained to 
 remember there is another world than this: 
 
 " They have not perished — no ! 
 
 Kind words, remembered voices, once so sweet ; 
 Smiles radiant long ago ; 
 
 And features, the great soul's apparent seat — 
 All shall come back : each tie 
 
 Of pure affection shall be knit again." 
 
 And however little, myriads ma}- think in their 
 daily fives and hurry of the demands upon them of 
 
84 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 another existence, no one, even the most thought- 
 less or careless, can hear the passing knell or see 
 the cortege which reverently takes its way to the 
 homes of the dead without conceding a moment's 
 reflection to his own possibilities in that myste- 
 rious future — a future which, however he would 
 ignore, he may not shun ; whilst to others more 
 disposed to reflection, it promises a reunion so 
 cherished as to be an all-controlling and abiding 
 sentiment. 
 
 And this feeling, casually induced, follows him 
 to his home as evening draws nigh, and his belated 
 footsteps are lighted by the magnificent gems that 
 stud the wondrous and infinite space above. In 
 all this he may be made to reflect, and to hope 
 with another and gifted writer, that there is in- 
 deed a home other than the one he struggles so 
 hard for here — a home where he may meet again 
 the loved ones who have gone before. 
 
 " If yon bright stars which gem the night 
 
 Be each a blissful dwelling sphere, 
 Where kindred spirits reunite 
 
 Whom death has torn asunder liere — 
 How sweet it were at once to die, 
 
 To leave this blighted orb afar, 
 Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky, 
 
 And soar awav from star to star. 
 
Influence of the Loved Dead. 85 
 
 " But ah ! how dark, how drear, how lone, 
 
 Would seem the brightest world of bliss, 
 If wandering through each radiant one 
 
 We failed to find the loved of this ! 
 If there no more the ties should twine 
 
 Which death's cold hand alone can sever, 
 Ah ! then those stars in mockery shine, 
 
 More hateful as they shine forever. 
 
 " It cannot be ! Each hope, each fear 
 
 That lights the eye or clouds the brow. 
 Proclaims there is a happier sphere 
 
 Than this bleak world which holds us now ! 
 There is a Voice which sorrow hears. 
 
 When heaviest weighs life's galling chain ; 
 'Tis Heaven that whispers, " Dry thy tears — 
 
 The pure in heart shall meet again !" 
 
X. 
 
 CREMATION" REVOLTING TO 
 HUMANITY. 
 
 If " burials at sea" are a shock and a natural 
 horror to humanity, and if men dishke, instinc- 
 tively, soHtude in choosing a last resting-place, 
 much more, as a general thing, have they an an- 
 tipathy, we need hardly more than suggest, to 
 the present endeavor to revive the practice of cer- 
 tain of the ancients — the practice of " cremation," 
 the reducing to ashes by the ordeal of fire the 
 bodies of the recent dead. 
 
 To the refined and sensitive mind, the last calm 
 expression on the face of the dead, as surrounded 
 by flowers they are reverently left undisturbed to 
 their long sleep, is one of the dearest and most 
 cherished remembrances, however sad, which goes 
 
90 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 along with the passing years ; something that draws 
 us times numberless to look regretfully and lov- 
 ingly upon the grassy mounds or the marble which 
 shelters them, and there endeavor to recall the 
 features so dear to us in life. 
 
 But the white-hot crucible, the shrinking form 
 of humanity passing away in smoke and flames, 
 can hardly be otherwise than revolting and dread- 
 ful, even to the least sensitive, as a general thing, 
 and with the conviction that the very form of the 
 loved one is obliterated from earth, has vanished 
 forever from all the scenes with which life and 
 affection had associated it, there must come a 
 painful feeling, an aching void such as nothing on 
 earth can avail to make good. 
 
 To the abused ashes of the dead thus treated, 
 no opportunity is presented for loving tributes ; 
 no pathos, no poetry is awakened in the sorrowing 
 heart as when they contemplate the loved form 
 carefully and tearfully borne to its last resting- 
 place. How strongly all this comes home to the 
 heart when we meet with such a tribute as this 
 from the bereaved mother to her dead child ! — 
 
 " Let in the light of the fair sun 
 And leave me here alone ; 
 This hour with thee must be the last, 
 My dear, unspotted one. 
 
"Cremation" Revolting. 91 
 
 Thy bier waits in the silent street, 
 
 And voiceless men are there ; 
 While in sad, solemn intervals 
 
 The bell strikes on the air. 
 
 Through the bare trees the autumn wind 
 
 With rustling song complains 
 To the deep vales, and echoing hills. 
 
 In sad funereal strains. 
 
 And this is death — these heavy eyes, 
 
 This eloquent, sweet face. 
 Where beauty, throned in innocence, 
 
 Sat with celestial grace. 
 
 These limbs, whose chiselled marble lines 
 
 But shame the sculptor's skill, 
 In more than mortal slumber wrapt, 
 
 Unconscious, cold, and still. 
 
 Seal up the fountains of mine eyes ; 
 
 This is no place for tears : 
 These are but painted images. 
 
 That mock my hopes and fears. 
 
 Backward, this little hand in mine, 
 
 Feeling thou still art here, 
 I trace the blissful joys and cares 
 
 That filled thy short career. 
 
 The bright intelligence that gleamed 
 
 From out these infant eyes 
 Seems still to point with blessed beams 
 
 The pathway to the skies. 
 
g2 Rockland .Cemetery. 
 
 " But this is death ! beneath whose touch- 
 Cold, unrelenting power — 
 Beauty's unwithered garlands fall, 
 To perish in an hour. 
 
 " Take up the bier, and bear it hence — 
 It were in vain to weep ; 
 But gently and with noiseless step, 
 As to the couch of sleep. 
 
 " The measured journey to the grave 
 Is dark to him who fears 
 To scan the blotted memories 
 Of unrepented years. 
 
 " To us who bear this child to-day. 
 No pang like this is given ; 
 This door we shut upon its tomb 
 Encloses it in heaven." 
 
XL 
 
 THE ASSURANCE OF IMMUNITY FOR 
 THE DEAD. 
 
 We have considered, somewhat at length, the 
 various characteristics which mark the last resting- 
 places of the dead of the woi"ld at large, and, with 
 the fact evident that the great majority of the ad- 
 vanced and cultivated instinctively seek out for 
 themselves or friends the most beautiful locations 
 at command in which to make a last home, we 
 have next to consider some of the most desirable 
 or imperative conditions which should character- 
 ize the selection of such locality, conditions which 
 should make it sought for a purpose so sacred and 
 intended to be so enduring. 
 
 In a country like ours, where, perhaps more 
 than anywhere else on earth, change, alteration, 
 improvement, progress, are the distinguishing feat- 
 
96 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 ures of the times, the first thing to be insisted upon 
 in seeking a burial-place for our kindred and our- 
 selves is that it shall never be disturbed. And the 
 importance of this consideration need hardly be 
 more than adverted to, since it is within the obser- 
 vation and experience of all that in the fierce 
 march of material progress everything has had, 
 upon occasion, to give way ; that with more than 
 Vandal disregard of the sacred obligation of the 
 living to disturb not or desecrate the resting-places 
 of the dead, yet the dust of a preceding generation 
 even has been ruthlessly scattered by the succeed- 
 ing one, because Mammon, or convenience, so de- 
 creed it. 
 
 And if we reflect for a moment as to zvJio these 
 are so ruthlessly torn from their presumed last 
 resting-places, the conviction at once comes home 
 to us that they were the once idolized infant, laid 
 away, surrounded with rosebuds and lilies, amidst 
 the tearful and heart-breaking anguish of the 
 young mother — grief which made the world dark 
 to both parents afterwards for years. We must 
 reflect that youth and beauty — the young girl with 
 fiower-enwreathed coffin, and the young man in 
 his strength, accompanied by the poignant regret 
 of his youthful companions — were of those dragged 
 
Immunity for the Dead. 97 
 
 forth again because earth denied them a perma- 
 nent resting-place. Age and talent and worth, 
 qualities which made the esteemed dead loved and 
 regarded through long lives of usefulness, have 
 found no more consideration than the malefactor 
 spurned out of the world by an outraged commu- 
 nity ; and knowing all this, seeing much too often 
 that the living, under certain circumstances, will 
 not protect the dead, can we see, without regret 
 and indignation, the phalanx of laborers appointed 
 to the sacrilegious task, again and again gathering 
 to invade these places with pick and shovel, and 
 not enter a protest and provide effectually against 
 future possibilities in the same direction ? 
 
 Whilst on this new continent there could have 
 been no such excuse of dire necessity as, upon 
 occasion, obtains in the crowded marts of the 
 Old World — a region where room is too often 
 wanting for the living — here, on the contrary, 
 right over the graves of the once loved and re- 
 garded, has the ploughshare of progress been re- 
 morselessly driven, since it has been enough, in 
 most cases, that a city needed the convenience of 
 another business street, or a few more business 
 blocks, way for a railroad, or something of as mat- 
 ter-of-fact a character in a business point of view, 
 to dig up and scatter to the winds the dust of 
 
98 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 those ancestors to whom they were indebted for 
 all that made the spot so desecrated desirable. 
 
 And this revolting condition of things, rightly 
 considered, is too common to need specification ; 
 too frequent, indeed, to at last cause much sur- 
 prise. But if, as was assumed in the commence- 
 ment of this little volume, it is true that the ad- 
 vancement, the culture, and refinement of any 
 people can be almost certainly measured by the 
 regard they show for the dead and for their last 
 resting-places, the condition of things we have 
 above set forth, and which is patent to all, is any- 
 thing but creditable to many of our communities 
 and cities ; indeed, it is a slur and a disgrace upon 
 civilization itself — upon those whose desire for 
 pelf, whose greed has made them forget or dis- 
 regard what was due the ashes of the dead. 
 
 We say, then, that since this ruthless spirit has 
 been not unfrequently manifested by some of the 
 most wealthy and advanced communities around 
 us, it is a first consideration to place the dead 
 where physical conditions may appear to insure 
 them forever against intrusion and disturbance — 
 insure them, perhaps, against the utter destruction 
 of these last homes. Already, men have learned 
 that scarcely anywhere in the crowded city is what 
 was once termed " sacred " entirely safe. 
 
I-NFMUNITV FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 99 
 
 A church site is wanted for a business mart, a 
 theatre, for a livery stable even in some cases, or 
 a burial-place is in the way of railroad construc- 
 tion; and straightway what was supposed to be 
 forever consecrated, what was once looked upon 
 and resorted to as sacred, is without a scruple 
 assailed by fierce Greed, the sad scene viewed 
 with idle curiosity or indifference by the hundreds 
 of passers-by as the bones of the dead are dug up 
 and carted away, the scene viewed with sorrow 
 and indignation and disgust by but the few. 
 
 The work goes on, and a brief period sees more 
 than the triumph of the barbarous hosts who in 
 the olden time invaded Italy, since they did not, 
 on the same site where destruction and sacrilege 
 ran riot — and as if in mockery — erect an altar to 
 that god Mammon at whose behest the place had 
 been desecrated. 
 
 In the presence of the last dread visitor to the 
 loved household, how sacred seems the spot con- 
 templated as that of final repose ! and what a 
 reflection it is upon humanity itself that when a 
 few years pass, with neglect and forgetfulness 
 come weeds and desolation, and even contume- 
 lious treatment of the dead, as already shown ! 
 
 Fortunately this is not the case with all, or 
 mankind might relapse or descend, in this regard, 
 
loo Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 to the condition of the unthinking denizens of the 
 fields and forests. One of those noble expressions 
 of a higher sentiment that all but redeem the 
 race may well be quoted here : 
 
 " The love which survives the tomb is one of the 
 noblest attributes of the soul. If it hath its woes, it 
 hath likewise its delights; and when the overwhelm- 
 ing burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of 
 recollection; when the sudden anguish and the con- 
 vulsive agony over the present ruin of all that we 
 most loved is softened away into pensive meditation 
 on all that it was in the days of its loveliness — who 
 would root out such a sorrow from the heart ? 
 
 " Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud 
 over the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper 
 sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would ex- 
 change it even for the song of pleasure or the burst 
 of revelry ? No, there is a voice from the tomb, 
 sweeter than that of song. There is a recollection 
 of the dead to which we turn even from the charms 
 of the living. Oh, the grave ! the grave ! It buries 
 every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every 
 resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none 
 but fond resfrets and tender recollections." 
 
Immunity for the Dead. ioi 
 
 THE TWO VILLAGES. 
 
 Over the river, on the hill, 
 Lieth a village white and still ; 
 All around it the forest trees 
 Shiver and whisper in the breeze ; 
 Over it sailing shadows go 
 Of soaring hawk and screaming crow, 
 And mountain grasses, low and sweet, 
 Grow in the middle of the street. 
 
 Over the river, under the hill. 
 Another village lieth still ; 
 There I see, in the cloudy night. 
 Twinkling stars of household light, 
 Fires that gleam from the smithy's door, 
 Mists that curl on the river shore ; 
 And in the road no grasses grow 
 For the wheels that hasten to and fro. 
 
 In that village on the hill 
 
 Never is sound of smithy or mill ; 
 
 The houses are thatched with grasses and flowers ; 
 
 Never a clock to toll the hou'rs ; 
 
 The marble doors are always shut, 
 
 You cannot enter in hall or hut ; 
 
 All the villagers lie asleep ; 
 
 Never a grain to sow or reap ; 
 
 Never in dreams to mourn or sigh — 
 
 Silent and idle and low they lie. 
 
I02 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " In that village under the hill, 
 When the night is starry and still, 
 Many a weary soul in prayer 
 Looks to the other village there, 
 And, weeping and sighing, longs to go 
 Up to that home from this below ; 
 Longs to sleep by the forest wild. 
 Whither have vanished wife and child ; 
 And heareth, praying, this answer fall — 
 "Patience! that village shall hold you all 
 
 \ 
 \ 
 
XII. 
 
 WHERE THE DEAD ARE TO FIND A 
 RESTING-PLACE. 
 
 We have indicated that nowhere contiguous to 
 the business marts of the town or city are the 
 rights of the dead sure to be regarded ; indeed, 
 that in numerous cases where the homes of the 
 dead stand in the way of " business progress," and 
 where wealth and power cannot interpose insur- 
 mountable obstacles, they are unhesitatingly swept 
 away. 
 
 This being the case, the next thing to consider 
 by those who have not given up all regard in the 
 fierce struggle after wealth for friends departed, 
 is to look about them to see where their dead can 
 be laid, with the full assurance of protection 
 against the unscrupulous proclivities of the times. 
 
io6 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 In this regard, it may safely be averred that 
 in few places in the immediate vicinity of the 
 onward march of the great city to advancement 
 can the dead be considered protected from all 
 interference ; so that one of the first conditions of 
 immunity from disturbance is a safe remoteness 
 from the rush and whirl which insists upon bear- 
 ing down everything that may impede its prog- 
 ress. 
 
 In dealing, then, with the wants, in this particu- 
 lar regard, of the great and growing commercial 
 metropolis of the New World, we need only point 
 to the fact that with but very limited exceptions 
 are resting-places for the dead available anywhere 
 near the city ; and that even these, if Greed and 
 Progress — as hitherto — march hand in hand, may 
 some time, as in past cases, be invaded, and the 
 dead be ruthlessly removed to make way for the 
 living. 
 
 And even in the cases indicated, such is the 
 demand at present for places of sepulchre, that 
 prices for such are quite beyond the reach of 
 thousands who deeply feel the desire and obliga- 
 tiod to place their dead where the feeling of 
 security cannot be shaken, and where they may 
 be surrounded by all those soothing and grateful 
 conditions which go far to reconcile the commit- 
 
Resting PLACE: Where? 107 
 
 ment of dust so precious to the keeping of the 
 grave. 
 
 But it is a notable thing that nearly always the 
 demand upon the bereaved head of a family to 
 provide a last home for a loved one, comes when 
 the expenses of sickness and burial have so ex- 
 hausted his resources, as to make it almost or 
 quite impossible to do this as he could wish, in 
 view of the great cost of a city cemetery lot ; and 
 to all such, at so trying a crisis, it would appear all 
 but an inestimable boon to furnish him what is so 
 needed, not only at a reasonable and low price, 
 but in a locality so beautiful and so assured 
 against intrusion for all time to come, that in 
 these important particulars he could have nothing 
 to desire. 
 
 We have elsewhere indicated what are consid- 
 ered almost indispensable conditions by the loving 
 and refined, in selecting homes for the dead, that 
 all that is attractive and beautiful in situation and 
 belongings are considered of inestimable value 
 by the bereaved who would cherish tender and 
 loving memories of friends lost. Let us see, now, 
 if there is any locality within convenient reach of 
 the great metropolis which fulfils all the desired 
 conditions; let us see if numbers who in the past 
 have been sadly embarrassed to find fitting burial- 
 
io8 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 places for their families will not henceforward 
 find that one of the saddest visitations that ever 
 occurs to humanity may be somewhat softened 
 by the conditions and chances newly put within 
 reach. 
 
 If, in the summer time, bidden to lay 
 Forms that I love in the darkness away — 
 
 I pray thee, my God, 
 Comfort me then with the warmth of the love 
 That bringeth the flowers to blossom above 
 
 From under the sod. 
 
 I know that He giveth His loved ones sleep ; 
 
 I know they shall wake where they never shall weep 
 
 Yes, and for tears of the night they shall reap 
 
 Joy of their Lord. 
 For, buried in grief, resurrected in love, 
 All that is precious ascendeth above 
 
 From under the sod." 
 
XIII. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF ROCKLAND CEMETERY. 
 
 Many years since, it so happened that a regular 
 rural burial-place was laid out by Act of the Leg- 
 islature of New York, on a beautiful mountain 
 slope of forest-covered ground facing to the south 
 and adjoining the Hudson River and the Sparkill, 
 the latter coming down behind the Palisades, the 
 place selected for such cemetery being twenty- 
 four miles from New York City, and on the west 
 side of the river. 
 
 Comprising in its contour and outlook some of 
 the most charming scenery on the Hudson, and 
 indeed on the continent, its beauty was made 
 more remarkable by its rich garniture of trees, 
 which besides including oaks, elms, maples, and 
 other hard woods, had also a fine array of cedars, 
 pines, and hemlocks, evergreens especially adapted 
 
112 Rockland Cemetery: 
 
 as ornaments to a cemetery, and in most instances 
 supplied to these places elsewhere at great labor 
 and cost. 
 
 Other features of this remarkably charming 
 locality were cliffs and clumps of gray lichen and 
 moss-covered rocks scattered here and there; 
 lovely open glades and shaded and almost hidden 
 nooks and tiny valleys ; whilst from every part of 
 this exquisite retreat one could look out over a 
 landscape taking in a view of thirty miles in front, 
 filled with picturesque farm-houses, elegant and 
 costly villas, and glimpses of running water, along 
 with the more grand and extended view of miles 
 of the " Tappan Zee," as seen from the higher 
 portion of the grounds. 
 
 Upon a closer examination by those who for 
 the reasons heretofore set forth proposed to 
 make of it a cemetery on an extended scale, it 
 was found that the rocks peculiar to that section 
 were almost wholly surface rocks, and that these 
 could be readily and profitably used in the con- 
 struction of roads and avenues on the beautiful 
 slope. 
 
 In like manner the surplus cedars, which had to 
 be removed to make way for these avenues, were 
 turned to good account by a most capable land- 
 scape-gardener, engineer and artist, in the construe- 
 
Its Origin, 113 
 
 tion of rustic arbors, seats, gateways, etc., so that 
 ever^'thing appeared fairly to conspire to make 
 Rockland Cemetery one of the most beautiful in 
 the whole country. 
 
 The most exacting and fastidious in the selec- 
 tion of a site of this kind could therefore hardl)^ 
 imagine any place more fitting than the grounds 
 set apart in this instance for the purposes of a 
 cemetery. Facing the south — as already noted — 
 and so well sheltered as the trees, shrubbery, and 
 flowers are from the harsh winds of winter by the 
 high lands to the northward of it, the approach of 
 spring finds it traversed by the earliest breezes 
 from the south, and the birds and all nature seem 
 here soonest alive to make the place almost an 
 exceptional scene of beauty at that genial season 
 of the year. 
 
 All this being apparent almost at a glance, it 
 seems but a matter of course that, attention once 
 called to it and enlisted in the undertaking, there 
 should have entered into it a degree of earnestness 
 in developing its beautiful features and capabili- 
 ties, until it is becoming already a favorite spot 
 with all who are in search of the picturesque in 
 scenery of this character. 
 
xrv. 
 
 THE CARRYING OUT OF THE DESIGN. 
 
 Attracted by all the considerations heretofore 
 indicated, an association of capitalists, of capable 
 gentlemen who had long seen and felt the needs 
 of such a place, decided to take the matter in 
 hand, and the result is now being reached in the 
 establishment and arrangement of one of the most 
 choice and beautiful cemeteries within the bounds 
 of the entire Union. 
 
 To specify some of its many excellences and 
 advantages, to point out ivJiy it should be consid- 
 ered rarely adapted to the purposes sought, we 
 need only recur briefly to some of the conditions 
 already insisted upon as quite indispensable to a 
 place of the kind, and in this case amply supplied. 
 
ii8 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 In the first instance, then, situated on a moun- 
 tain slope of gentle acclivity, it can never be 
 invaded by that — in this age — determined and 
 almost irresistible intruder, the modern railroad ; 
 for whilst it is true that in the valley below, and 
 close within view, the iron horse goes plunging 
 by, there cannot ever, in the physical aspect of 
 the case, be any pretext for his appearance on the 
 slope above. 
 
 Of the possibility of the great city, or of the 
 hamlets closer at hand, ever trenching upon its 
 grounds, the same may be said ; so that the first 
 grand condition of security is put beyond all per- 
 adventure — something, as already intimated, that 
 can be said of few of these cities of the dead 
 located in the plains or valleys below. 
 
 And as by no possibility, from its distance from 
 the city, can it ever reach an extravagant scale of 
 prices as a speculation in sales of the ground, the 
 cemetery lots can in this instance be supplied at a 
 rate so moderate as to put them within reach of 
 applicants of the most limited means ; whilst the 
 fact that the gentlemen who have led off in this 
 undertaking have already made it the burial-place 
 of members of their own families, gives conclusive 
 warrant that with their ample means and good 
 taste all will be done that is possible to make it 
 
Carrying out the design. 119 
 
 second in beauty and excellence to none, far or 
 near. 
 
 Already a large number of interments have 
 taken place in Rockland Cemetery, the conviction 
 of its necessity as a secure place of burial hav- 
 ing been emphasized by the fact that as many as' 
 1064 former tenants of a city graveyard, whose 
 poor dust could not find there undisturbed rest, 
 have found a haven and a shelter here from the 
 ruthless invasion of their former resting-place. 
 
View to the Soutli fr<nii Thirtl Plateau. — Rockland Cemetery. 
 
XV. 
 
 THE CEMETERY AND ITS SURROUND- 
 INGS. 
 
 We have, indicated to some extent, in describ- 
 ing the origin and locality of the Cemetery, its 
 leading features and characteristics, as making it 
 rarely suited to the purposes sought, but this little 
 treatise would not be at all complete, perhaps, 
 without a more specific account and minute de- 
 scription of the many attractions around. 
 
 From almost the entire grounds, then, the eye 
 ranges over scenes not only of the greatest natu- 
 ral beauty, but added thereto is the charm of deep 
 historical interest, and to an extent very rare any- 
 where else in the neighborhood of the great city. 
 With a sweep of vision ranging around the horizon 
 for more than thirty miles, extending from the 
 Highlands of the Hudson to the ocean itself, some 
 
124 Rockland Cemetery 
 
 of the most thrilling scenes of the Revolutionary 
 War were enacted within the compass designated. 
 
 Looking northwardly, the view takes in on the 
 western side eighteen miles off the rocky cliffs 
 projecting into the Hudson, comprising " Stony 
 Point," the spot signalized by one of the most 
 gallant exploits, by Mad Anthony and his follow- 
 ers, of the times in which he lived; while on the 
 opposite side of the river, within range of view, 
 is Tarrytown, where Major Andre was captured, 
 and immediately opposite from our look-out point 
 is Sunnyside, famous as the home of Washington 
 Irving. 
 
 From the same high point in the Cemetery 
 grounds the visitor looks down on the Tappan 
 Zee, with its miles of shining water ; and within 
 the same scope are the pleasant towns and villages 
 of Sing Sing, Nyack, Piermont, Irvington, Dobbs 
 Ferry, Hastings, and sundry others, as fitting 
 ornaments to the broad landscape. 
 
 Turning southwardly, in a front view two 
 miles away the eye takes in the locality notable 
 once as the " headquarters of Washington," the 
 building in which Andre was tried, the spot where 
 he was executed, and the monument recently 
 erected to designate it and commemorate the 
 event. 
 
AND ITS Surroundings. 125 
 
 Thus it may be noted that from this command- 
 ing and beautiful locality the vision can range in 
 no direction without finding some object of sur- 
 passing interest to dwell upon, the whole made 
 more attractive by all that can be comprised in 
 the most charming scenery — of forest-clad hill and 
 cultivated valley, of rock and river and sparkling 
 rivulet and lake, such as seldom combine to de- 
 light the lover and admirer of the historical, the 
 grand and beautiful. 
 
View to the South-east from Third Plateau—Rockland Cemetery. 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE FOURTH AND LAST PLATEAU. 
 
 Looking northward and westward from the — 
 at present — highest improved part of Rockland 
 Cemetery, we note the portion of the grounds re- 
 served and designated as the " Fourth Plateau," 
 still more elevated, richly clothed with forest trees, 
 and having an almost unequalled outlook upon 
 this portion of the Hudson River region, acknowl- 
 edged to be almost without a peer, even admitting 
 to the comparison the choicest spots in point of 
 river scenery on the banks of the Rhine or the 
 Danube. 
 
 On the highest and naturally rounded esplanade 
 of this beautiful locality it is determined to erect 
 forthwith a tall observatory, from the top of 
 which to take in at a single broad sweep one of 
 the most charming and varied landscapes on the 
 entire Atlantic coast. The great advantage of 
 
130 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 this will be, that while it can be reached by mod- 
 erate grades by which the summit will.be almost 
 imperceptibly attained — consequently with little 
 fatigue — the vision from this charming elevation 
 will include a series of almost infinite views, of 
 surpassing beauty and sublimity, of vale and 
 mountain, rock, river, and the far-off ocean itself. 
 
 In the foreground, and immediately under foot, 
 as it were, we have the Hudson, widening at this 
 point to make the lovely Tappan Zee, a body of 
 sparkling water some fourteen miles long and from 
 three to four broad, its surface at all times dotted 
 with white sails, with steamers, barges, and the 
 many varieties of river craft tributary to the com- 
 merce or amusement of the great metropolis. On 
 the hither side, directly beneath the observer, lies 
 the pretty and picturesque village of Piermont, 
 with the handsome boat-house of its rowing club; 
 whilst to the right, amidst clustering dwellings, 
 we see the church steeple of the village standing 
 out in bright and pleasing relief against the dark 
 green slope of Taulman's Mountain ; and further 
 in front, the long " pier," from which the place 
 takes its name, projects far out into the Hudson — 
 a marked feature in the landscape. 
 
 Glancing farther up the river on the same side, 
 we see nestling, as if it would hide itself under the 
 
Fourth and Last Plateau. 131 
 
 bold but sheltering cliff of Hook Mountain, Nyack, 
 the termination of the railroad brought to a 
 halt at the base of the rocky battlements of the 
 Hudson in this quarter, while directly opposite, 
 across the Tappan Zee, is the purple-hazed range 
 of the Tarrytown hills, where those unassuming 
 heroes and patriots, Paulding, Williams, and Van 
 Wart, defeated the contemplated treason of Arnold 
 by the capture of his unfortunate instrument and 
 victim. Major Andre. 
 
 There, too, is " Sleepy Hollow Church," made 
 memorable and classical by Washington Irving, 
 the edifice erected in 1699 ; and near by is " God's" 
 Acre," where the genial and famous chronicler 
 of the legendary lore of the region rests from his 
 honored and pleasant labors. Directly in front of 
 us, near the bank of the river but almost hidden 
 by trees and shrubbery, we see peeping modestly 
 forth from the rich foliage the unpretentious resi- 
 dence which was the famous author's home. 
 
 All this, so rich and varied, and comprising so 
 much of beauty and historical interest, is immedi- 
 ately about us as we stand upon this elevated 
 spot. But raising our eyes and glancing farther 
 away, how the breadth and depth of the splendid 
 outlook grows upon us, widens and expands to 
 the almost boundless and infinite! Away in the 
 
132 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 distance, and across Westchester County, with its 
 beautiful villas, cottages, farm-houses, and numer- 
 ous hamlets contiguous to the metropolis, we be- 
 hold the long, shining, and broadening expanse of 
 Long Island Sound, dotted with sails, and mingled 
 with these we discern steamers moving swiftly 
 upon the waters ; whilst still beyond, and appar- 
 ently rising on the line of the horizon, is the island 
 itself. Finally, still further away stretches a mere 
 shining ribbon, the blue Atlantic, meeting the line 
 of the sky and melting into and blending in beau- 
 tiful harmony with it. 
 
 And now, turning more toward the south-west, 
 the vision sweeping the horizon takes in Staten Isl- 
 and, the soft-fringed outline of Llewellyn Moun- 
 tain back of Newark and Orange, and still farther 
 around we have the hazy blue contour, almost like 
 clouds, of the mountainous coal region of Penn- 
 sylvania ; and farther yet, ridge upon ridge and 
 peak upon peak of the Alleghanies, as these ex- 
 tensive ranges trend away westward and north- 
 ward perhaps to the overlooking summits shutting 
 in the broad valley of the Delaware and Susque- 
 hanna in that direction. 
 
 The eye, we repeat, takes in all this within the 
 broad circle of the horizon ; and standing on this 
 pleasant height, how active becomes the fancy, at 
 
Fourth and Last Plateau. 133 
 
 work peopling the numerous green valleys as 
 glances reveal to us glimpses of water and end- 
 less visions of beauty almost bewildering in their 
 boundless scope. 
 
 Memory is invoked for repetitions of Old World 
 scenery with which to supply fitting parallels. We 
 call back once more recollections of the beautiful 
 valleys which from the Black Forest debouch 
 upon the magnificent valley of the Rhine, until, 
 fairly tired out with the beautiful and wonderful 
 in landscape combination, we descend from our 
 elevated post of discovery, whilst the soul again 
 and again exults in the presence of a world so full 
 of all that can gladden the heart, even when sore 
 with disappointment at the struggles of everyday 
 hfe. 
 
 " He does well who does his best ; 
 Is he weary ? let him rest. 
 Brothers ! I have done my best, 
 I am weary — let me rest. 
 After toiling oft in vain, 
 Baffled, yet to struggle fain ; 
 After toiling long to gain 
 Little good with mickle pain, 
 Let me rest. But lay me low, 
 Where the hedge-side roses blow ; 
 Where the little daisies grow, 
 Where the winds a-maying go ; 
 
134 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 V/here the footpath rustics plod, 
 Where the breeze-bowed poplars nod ; 
 Where the old woods worship God, 
 Where His pencil paints the sod ; 
 Where the wedded throstle sings, 
 Where the young bird tries his wings 
 Where the wailing plover swings. 
 Near the rivulet's rushing springs ; 
 Where, at times, the tempest's roar, 
 Shaking distant sea and shore. 
 Still will rave old Klausland o'er, 
 To be heard by me no more ! 
 There, beneath the breezy west, 
 Tired and thankful, let me rest. 
 Like a child that sleepeth best 
 On its mother's gentle breast." 
 
XVII. 
 
 ROUTE TO ROCKLAND CEMETERY 
 
 The route to the Cemetery, and the advantages 
 to be gained by the purchase of a lot there, we 
 propose to set forth briefly for the guidance of 
 those desirous of availing themselves of the oppor- 
 tunity now offered in avoiding the heavy cost of a 
 city funeral, and, more especially, the heavy cost 
 of a plot in a city cemetery, since a lot can be 
 purchased in this case for from one third to one 
 tenth the cost of a lot in a city cemetery. 
 
 In the first place, it is of importance to note 
 that the former costly arrangements for the burial 
 of the dead are being avoided as far as possible 
 by many whose example, from the high position 
 they hold in society, all may well respect. Such 
 had become the burden to families ill able to 
 afford it of the interment of relatives, that some 
 
138 Rockland Cemetery: 
 
 of the most eminent of the clergy have led off in 
 deprecating the usages formerly in vogue, and by 
 most deemed imperative in showing respect for 
 the dead. 
 
 As a timely reminder of how matters in this 
 respect are changing, word has recently been 
 brought from over the water that the burial ser- 
 vices at the funeral of the celebrated and widely 
 esteemed authoress, Mrs. S. C. Hall, were noted 
 for their beautiful simplicity and their designed 
 avoidance of the cost in the past deemed so indis- 
 pensable in such cases. 
 
 It appears, then, that there was not even a car- 
 riage seen at the funeral ; that instead of the costly 
 burial case usually in requisition for the distin- 
 guished and wealthy, or " well-to-do," the great 
 authoress selected an antique oaken chest for her 
 last tenement ; and although there were tokens of 
 high regard and love from the Queen and the 
 most eminent in the land in the shape of wreaths 
 and choice flowers, these were not, as usual, 
 thrown into the grave, but were, by the previous 
 directions of the deceased herself, distributed to 
 the sick in the hospitals and the school-children 
 where the event transpired ; and the money that 
 might have been expended upon a costly coffin 
 and other rich paraphernalia was given to the 
 
Route to It. 139 
 
 little children who sang at her grave, this hav- 
 ing been made in the village churchyard. 
 
 It is not too much to sa}^ we think, that sim- 
 plicity and economy — a proper economy — in fu- 
 nerals, will more and more come into use as 
 people see the good sense of such a movement ; 
 and in this regard the time for such a much-needed 
 reform has come. How such a desirable result 
 may be brought about — at least, how it may be 
 accomplished b}" individuals favorable to such a 
 conclusion — we propose now briefly to explain. 
 
JJast \ i.\v Iroui TliiJ«l rialeaiu Kockluiul Ceiii.-*ei>. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 MORE DESIRABLE AND LESS COSTLY 
 METHODS OF INTERMENT. 
 
 Let us now suppose the case — one of the most 
 ordinary and yet one of the saddest visitations 
 that comes to all humanity — the occurrence of a 
 death in the family circle. 
 
 At such a time of all others, no one feels able 
 or willing to suffer additionally by having forced 
 upon them any labor or ceremonial not absolutely 
 essential to the final and proper disposition of the 
 one whose departure has made them feel that the 
 very world is darkened to them by the bereave- 
 ment. There are, indeed, duties that cannot and 
 should not be avoided ; loving and respectful 
 attentions to the departed, such as may, in some 
 sense, even soothe for the, moment the deep grief 
 suffered, as preparation is made to part with the 
 dear form about to be taken from the sight for- 
 
144 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 ever. Of course it is natural and proper for sym- 
 pathizing friends to come near, anxious to do 
 something, where Httle can be done beyond a few 
 imperative duties which make and accompany the 
 sad occasion. 
 
 Let us then suppose the poor mourners who, 
 exhausted after their long night vigils by the bed- 
 side of the suffering and the departed, even shrink 
 from the sunlight of the garish day — let us suppose 
 them in sad consultation over what must next be 
 done. Let us suppose that long before, and when 
 they were not troubled and half distracted with 
 grief, the head of the household had wisely antici- 
 pated — as it is the duty of all to do — the dark 
 shadow that has at last fallen upon the little 
 circle, and provided for that last home that is 
 inevitable by the purchase of a cemetery lot. All 
 can understand at a glance how much the trying 
 duties of the time are narrowed and softened by 
 the consciousness of this needful provision, along 
 with the readily suggested course which next 
 presents itself. 
 
 The friends of the family desire, of course, to 
 show their respectful appreciation, their regard 
 and love for the departed, and their sympathy 
 for the bereaved survivors ; and so these friends 
 must be made aware in some way of the sorrow- 
 
Less Costly Interments. 145 
 
 ful event. A notice in the daily papers suffices 
 for this; and at the proper and appointed time, in 
 response to the invitation thus given, these friends 
 assemble — in the interval, of course, all needed 
 preparations having been made by the undertaker 
 at the house. 
 
 The morning of the funeral arrives ; the clergy- 
 man and the friends assemble, arrive quietly on 
 foot, m carriages, or by an}^ other the most con- 
 venient public conveyance, and the religious ser- 
 vices take place. All that can be done is done 
 to show the appreciation and respect and love 
 for the dead, and the deep sympathy felt for 
 the living. The religious services closed, the 
 announcement can be made by the clergyman of 
 the fact ; and next, that the interment will be a 
 quiet and unostentatious one at a later hour in 
 the rural cemetery at a distance. Thereupon the 
 company of sorrowing friends leave the family to 
 themselves — ever a grateful procedure to the 
 shrinking and overstrained sufferers ; and then, 
 perhaps an hour afterward, the city undertaker 
 again makes his appearance, this time at the door 
 with the hearse and one or two carriages. The 
 little cortege quietly proceed to the waiting train, 
 and in an hour, their destination reached, they are 
 received there b)^ the undertaker and his assistants 
 
146 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 of the rural cemetery, in waiting with a hearse 
 and one or two carriages, and near by the inter- 
 ment silently takes place, and the family as quietly 
 return to their home. 
 
 Now, no one can look at this presentation of 
 the case calmly and thoughtfully and not see 
 how much of an improvement it is upon the past 
 prescribed way of doing things; the costly and 
 oftentimes excessive display, too often a burden 
 upon, and an additional affliction to the poor and 
 suffering family who were made to feel that only 
 in such a way could they show a proper respect 
 and love for the dead. We have shown, we think, 
 how all this may be propej'ly avoided when at last 
 we are constrained to duties which are as inevi- 
 table as fate itself to surviving friends ; and we 
 think that a growing public sentiment in favor of 
 these more simple and less costly and troublesome 
 methods of interment will commend itself sooner 
 or later to the great mass of the community, more 
 especially as all we have indicated can be accom- 
 plished without any particular delay. 
 
 The Northern Railroad of New Jersey is 
 the route to the Cemetery, and it offers every 
 facility in low fares and frequent trains, there 
 being twenty-four trains daily, or twelve trains 
 each way. 
 
Il 
 
 
 k ''% 
 
THE PARADOX OF TIME. 
 
 " Time goes you say?— ah, noj 
 Alas ! time stays — we go ; 
 
 Or else, were this not so, 
 What need to chain the hours, 
 For youth were always ours ? 
 Time goes, you say ?— ah, no ! 
 
 " Ours is the eyes' deceit 
 Of men whose flying feet 
 
 Lead through some landscape low ; 
 We pass, and think we see 
 The earth's fixed surface flee ; 
 Alas ! time stays— we go. 
 
 ' Once, in the days of old, 
 Your locks were curling gold, 
 
 And mine had shamed the crow : 
 Now, in the self-same stage, 
 We've reached the silver age. 
 
 Time goes, you say ? — ah, no ! 
 
 ' Once, when my voice was strong, 
 I filled the woods with song. 
 
 To praise your "pink" and "snow 
 My bird that sung so glad. 
 Where are your roses fled? 
 
 Alas ! time stays — we go. 
 
I50 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 " See, in what traversed ways, 
 What backward fate delays 
 
 The hopes we used to know ! 
 Where are our old desires — 
 Ah! where those vanished fires? 
 
 Time goes, you say ? — ah, no ! 
 
 " How far, how far, O Sweet! 
 The past behind our feet, 
 
 Lies in the even's glow ; 
 Now, on the forward way. 
 Let us fold hands and pray : 
 Alas ! time stays — we go," 
 
ROCKLAND CEMETERY, 
 
 AT 
 
 Sparkill and Piermont, Rockland Co., N.Y., 
 
 Within one Jiour of the city by the Northern Railroad 
 of Neiv Jersey, from Jersey City. 
 
 TRUSTEES OF THE ASSOCIATION. 
 John W. Ferdon. Geo. S. Coe. Andros B. Stoxe. 
 
 Chas. W. Miller. Jose M. Munoz. Wm. H. Whiton. 
 
 OFFICERS. 
 
 John W. Ferdon, President. Geo. S. Coe, Vice-Presideiit. 
 
 Wm. H. Whiton, Secy, and Treasurer. 
 
 Landscape Engineer in Charge. 
 
 FREDK. g. moeller, 
 
 Superintendents of Interrnents. 
 J. MARTINE & SON, SPARKILL, N. Y. 
 
 City Office, Rockland Cemetery. 
 69 LIBERTY STREET, NEW YORK CITY. 
 
RULES AND REGULATIONS 
 
 Adapted to the Landscape-Lawn Plan of the Rockland 
 Cemetery. 
 
 L All lots shall be held in pursuance of "An Act authorizing the 
 Incorporation of Rural Cemetery Associations," passed April 27th, 
 1847, and the several acts adding to, altering, or amending the 
 same; and shall not be used for any other purpose than as a place 
 of burial for the dead; nor shall any person, without the express 
 permission of the Trustees, be allowed to be interred therein who 
 shall have died in any prison, or shall have been executed for any 
 crime. 
 
 IL Proprietors shall not allow any interments to be made in 
 their lots for a remuneration, nor shall any transfer or assignment 
 of any lot, or of any interest therein, be valid, without the consent 
 in writing of the Trustees of the Cemetery, first had and indorsed 
 upon such transfer or assignment. By the laws of the State, no 
 transfer or assignment of a lot can be made after an actual inter- 
 ment in it. 
 
 in. No disinterments shall be allowed except by the consent of 
 the Trustees, and upon the written order of the original owner or 
 owners of the lot. 
 
Rules and Regulations. 153 
 
 IV. AH lot inclosures of any kind whatsoever are prohibited, 
 unless the style or plan of such proposed inclosure be first sub- 
 mitted to the Trustees of the Cemetery, and receive their approval 
 and authorization in writing. The boundaries of lots will be 
 marked at the expense of the Cemetery, by galvanized iron plates, 
 securely fastened at the corners of each lot, or by other methods 
 showing the number of the lot and section. 
 
 V. A lot-book will be kept at the Cemetery office, which will 
 show by means of accurate diagrams the dimensions of each lot, 
 and the precise location of each grave, with the name of the 
 deceased. 
 
 VI. Only one monument will be permitted to be erected on each 
 lot, the foundation of which, of solid masonry and at least six feet 
 in depth, will be built by the Cemetery at the expense of the lot- 
 owner. 
 
 VII. Headstones and footstones are allowed, provided they are 
 not more than eight inches in height. 
 
 VIII. Stone tablets, not exceeding two feet in length and eigh- 
 teen inches in width, may be placed over the heads of graves. 
 
 IX. An order in writing is required from the lot-owner whenever 
 a grave is opened. 
 
 X. The planting for rural adornment will be kept strictly under 
 the control of the Cemetery. 
 
 XL The Trustees reserve to themselves the right to remove any 
 tree, shrub, monument, or inscription that is objectionable or 
 injurious to the appearance of the surrounding lots. 
 
 XII. The lots will be sold as they are laid out and mapped, at a 
 fixed price per square foot, 
 
154 Rockland Cemetery. 
 
 XIII. The Trustees, from time to time, may lay out or alter 
 such avenues or walks, and make such rules and regulations for the 
 government of the grounds, as they may deem requisite and prop- 
 er to secure and promote the general object of the Cemetery. 
 
 XIV. The proprietors of lots, and their families, will be allowed 
 access to the grounds at all times, observing the rules which are or 
 may be adopted for the regulation of visitors. 
 
 'or lots which may be sold after this present date, July, 
 i8Si, in the older portion of the Cemetery grounds already occu- 
 pied, and where many of the lots are already enclosed with fences 
 and the graves furnished with headstones of various forms and 
 sizes, said portion is hereby excepted from the rigid application of 
 Rules 4, 6 and 8. 
 
CHARGES. 
 
 Receiving Tomb. 
 
 For each adult $15 00 
 
 For each child under 10 years of age 10 00 
 
 If removed to a lot or single grave in the Cemetery within 
 twenty days, the whole deposit will be returned. 
 
 If removed to a lot or single grave in the Cemetery within three 
 months, $10 will be returned for adults and $5 for children. 
 
 If removed from the Cemetery, $8 will be returned for adults 
 and $4 for children. 
 
 If not removed within three months, the remains will be interred 
 in a lot prepared for that purpose. 
 
 This rule will be- adhered to unless special reasons exist for a 
 longer continuance of the remains in the vault; and in that case, 
 arrangements will be effected with the Superintendent. 
 
 Single Interment Lot. 
 
 Single grave for each adult and opening same six feet deep $10 00 
 Single grave for each child under 10 years of age, and 
 
 opening same 7 00 
 
 Single graves for infants under i year of age, and opening 
 
 same 5 00 
 
i5<9 Rockland Cemetery 
 
 Opening Tombs and Graves in Private Lots. 
 
 Opening tombs or vaults $3 oo 
 
 " adult graves, usual depth, six feet 5 oo 
 
 graves of children under lo years of age 4 oo 
 
 Diagrams showing a plan of interments, with each grave num- 
 bered, are furnished to all purchasers without charge, the Cemetery 
 retaining a duplicate. 
 
 When interments are to be made, lot-owners should send an 
 order by telegram or otherwise to the Cemetery office in New 
 York, or to the Superintendent of Interments at Sparkill, N. Y., 
 to open the grave, designating it by its number on the diagram. 
 
 Lnformation concerning Lots and Prices in Rockland 
 Cemetery. 
 
 The size and shape of lots vary with the extent of the purchase 
 and the formation of the ground. A lot 16 by 25 feet containing 
 400 square feet is considered a full lot, and gives an approximate 
 idea of the size most frequently purchased for a family burial lot. 
 
 At the present time (1881) the prices of lots average from 20 
 cents to $1 per square foot, depending upon location. 
 
 Full lots — 400 square feet — can be bought at from $80 up to $400, 
 according to location. 
 
 Half lots can be bought at from $40 up to $200, according to 
 location. 
 
 Every lot in Rockland Cemetery is in a desirable and attractive 
 location ; but some localities are exceptionally beautiful, hence 
 the difference in the valuation of lots. 
 
 The prices given include all charges for grading and for mowing 
 the grass as often as may be needed. 
 
 Purchasers may select their lots from any unsold graded ground 
 which has not been reserved. 
 
Charges. 157 
 
 All ground will be sold in the forms and dimensions decided 
 upon by the Trustees. 
 
 Employes of the Cemetery may be found at the New York office 
 or at the Cemetery at all times to attend upon those w-ishing to 
 purchase lots. Telephonic communication between New York 
 office and the Cemetery. 
 
 To insure the proper regulation of the grounds, the grade of all 
 lots will be determined by the Cemetery authorities, and their de- 
 cision will in all cases be final ; and to beautify and keep the 
 grounds in the best possible order a liberal per cent of the receipts 
 from the sale of lots will be set aside and form an Endowment 
 Fund, which shall constitute a fund in perpetuity for that purpose. 
 
 Purchasers of lots are reminded that plots will descend to the 
 HEIRS AT L.\w forever; and by the law are exempt from execution 
 and taxes, and is the only real property ever purchased of which 
 this can be affirmed.