“We would avoid,” says the writer for the Quarterly Observer, cited so often,
even an apparent intrusion upon the privacy of grief, but cannot forbear to speak of one who has found a grave in this enclosure, whose person and accomplishments and amiable character, and her endeared relation to a large circle of acquaintances and friends, together with her opening prospects of life and happiness, made her lamented even by those who were comparatively strangers. Some of the circumstances attending the close of her life, well known to many who did not need relationship or intimacy to make them exquisitely touching, gave an affecting interest to the event. Her sudden and mournful removal was like tearing out a slender but far-spreading tendril that had wound itself about beneath a deep and rich vine on the side of a dwelling, and leaving, as it came away, its place of repose disfigured and torn beyond the help of future suns and showers. It seems sometimes that death is commissioned to seek out a victim whose departure, more than that of any other, will mock at the sympathies and endearments which make dying seem, for a season at least, impossible. How like a ruthless enemy, glad, if the sufferings which he can occasion may be aggravated by private and peculiar circumstances, does the last enemy frequently appear!
The next stone we shall notice would appear to be the joint property of “Fairfield” and “Wadsworth,” both which names it shows. Beyond this, on Indian Ridge Path, are those erected by “Nathaniel Francis,” “Greenleaf,” and “Martin Brimmer.” In the same neighborhood we find also one raised to the memory
