gone down to fill a drunkard's grave;

"But we'll tread lightly on the ashes of the dead."

Why should we uncover the frailties of poor mortality, unless to
hold them up as beacon lights to the rising generation? and for this
purpose we would take the living example.

Here is buried an aged woman, who lived in poverty. She had the
shaking palsy, and it was with great difficulty she could perform
any labor; she was assisted by the town and the charities of the
neighborhood. She had one daughter, who was an invalid many years,
and dependant upon the care of the feeble mother. The children of
the village were the willing bearers of many comforts to these poor
people; and even now seems to come the well remembered "tell your
mother I am much obliged to her," from the pale lips that lie buried
beneath the sod. The daughter is buried by her side, and methinks they
sleep as sweetly as the more wealthy citizen, beneath a more splendid
monument. All here meet upon a common level--the old, the young,
the rich, the poor, the bond and free, for death is no respecter of
persons.

Here, too, rests a young physician, who supplied the place of the old
one. His career was like the meteor flash, emitting its brilliant rays
for a season, and then was shrouded in death's dark night.

As we stand upon this spot and contemplate it as it was when we last
stood upon it, we feel that here has been the greatest change of any
place yet visited. Here we meet many a name familiar to the ear, and a
form familiar to the eye starts into life, and treads again its mazy