She Had Grown Up
In The Family, And Was Identified With It; Its Ruling Aims And
Purposes Had Become Hers.
She had been the personal attendant of
Clarkson, and his nurse during his last sickness; she had evidently
understood, and been interested in his plans; and the veneration with
which she therefore spoke of him had the sanction of intelligent
appreciation.
A daughter of Clarkson, who was married to a neighboring clergyman,
with her husband, was also present on this day.
After dinner we rode out to see the old church, in whose enclosure the
remains of Clarkson repose. It was just such a still, quiet, mossy old
church as you have read of in story books, with the graveyard spread
all around it, like a thoughtful mother, who watches the resting of
her children.
The grass in the yard was long and green, and the daisy, which, in
other places, lies like a little button on the ground, here had a
richer fringe of crimson, and a stalk about six inches high. It is, I
well know, the vital influence from the slumbering dust beneath which
gives the richness to this grass and these flowers; but let not that
be a painful thought; let it rather cheer us, that beauty should
spring from ashes, and life smile brighter from the near presence of
death. The grave of Clarkson is near the church, enclosed by a
railing, and marked by a simple white marble slab; it is carefully
tended, and planted with flowers. In the church was an old book of
records, and among other curious inscriptions was one recording how a
pious committee of old Noll's army had been there, knocking off
saints' noses, and otherwise purging the church from the relics of
idolatry.
Near by the church was the parsonage, the home of my friends, a neat,
pleasant, sequestered dwelling, of about the style of a New England
country parsonage.
The effect of the whole together was inexpressibly beautiful to me.
For a wonder, it was a pleasant day, and this is a thing always to be
thankfully acknowledged in England. The calm stillness of the
afternoon, the seclusion of the whole place, the silence only broken
by the cawing of the rooks, the ancient church, the mossy graves with
their flowers and green grass, the sunshine and the tree shadows, all
seemed to mingle together in a kind of hazy dream of peacefulness and
rest. How natural it is to say of some place sheltered, simple, cool,
and retired, here one might find peace, as if peace came from without,
and not from within. In the shadiest and stillest places may be the
most turbulent hearts; and there are hearts which, through the busiest
scenes, carry with them unchanging peace. As we were walking back, we
passed many cottages of the poor.
I noticed, with particular pleasure, the invariable flower garden
attached to each. Some pansies in one of them attracted my attention
by their peculiar beauty, so very large and richly colored.
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