As they lowered the body into the earth, the creaking of the cords
seemed to agonize her; but when, on some accidental obstruction, there
was a justling of the coffin, all the tenderness of the mother burst
forth; as if any harm could come to him who was far beyond the reach
of worldly suffering.
I could see no more- my heart swelled into my throat- my eyes filled
with tears- I felt as if I were acting a barbarous part in standing
by, and gazing idly on this scene of maternal anguish. I wandered to
another part of the church-yard, where I remained until the funeral
train had dispersed.
When I saw the mother slowly and painfully quitting the grave,
leaving behind her the remains of all that was dear to her on earth,
and returning to silence and destitution, my heart ached for her.
What, thought I, are the distresses of the rich! they have friends
to soothe- pleasures to beguile- a world to divert and dissipate their
griefs. What are the sorrows of the young! Their growing minds soon
close above the wound- their elastic spirits soon rise beneath the
pressure- their green and ductile affections soon twine round new
objects. But the sorrows of the poor, who have no outward appliances
to soothe- the sorrows of the aged, with whom life at best is but a
wintry day, and who can look for no after-growth of joy- the sorrows
of a widow, aged, solitary, destitute, mourning over an only son,
the last solace of her years; these are indeed sorrows which make us
feel the impotency of consolation.
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