Gleanings by the Way Part 5

We this morning left St. Louis about nine o'clock. Our progress up the river has been slow. Some eighteen miles from St. Louis we witnessed one of the most interesting sights in all our journey--_the meeting of the waters of the Mississippi and the Missouri_! I cannot attempt description! The imagination alone can conceive it. If I ever had feelings of sublimity waked up in my bosom, it was when our boat stood off just abreast the Missouri, and I looked up its mighty channel, and thought of its source between two and three thousand miles distant, amid those mountains whose tops are covered with eternal snow, and then thought of the sunny orange groves, near where it empties its waters into the ocean!

We stopped a few hours at Alton, Illinois, just above the point where the Missouri mingles its waters with the Mississippi. This is an interesting town, fast rising into importance. It is destined to become a point of great interest. Its present population exceeds two thousand. We pa.s.sed Marion City and Quincy, as we advanced up the river. Of the former we have heard frequent descriptions. We stopped an hour or so at the latter, and enjoyed from the high bluff on which it is built, a view of one of the most magnificent prospects that ever stretched before the human eye. The expanded waters of the Mississippi--the innumerable green islets that seem to float on its bosom--the beautiful vistas opening between these--the boundless ocean of forest stretching off to the south and west, and the level, treeless, luxuriant prairie running back to an unknown distance--all these lay at your feet, furnis.h.i.+ng one of the most picturesque scenes upon which the eye ever gazed. I regretted the shortness of our stay at Quincy, not only on account of the enchanting loveliness of the spot, but more particularly as it deprived me of the pleasure of paying a visit to Dr.

Nelson, the author of a popular work ent.i.tled, "_The cause and cure of Infidelity_," a book of sterling excellence.

We had now pa.s.sed over a long tract of river navigation since we embarked at Pittsburgh. Our eyes had become almost wearied with tracing first the endless sylvan beauties that cl.u.s.tered around the banks of the smooth-flowing Ohio; and then the vast, unpenetrated, boundless forest scenes that spread away on either side of us from the abrupt, muddy banks of the Mississippi. Our ear had become wearied with the monotony of the sharp, rough sound of the high-pressure engine, that was heard ceaselessly day and night. Books scarcely any longer could interest us. The character and conversation of most of those around us seemed exceedingly dull and common-place. There was however one exception. This was found in the person of one of our pa.s.sengers--a man of almost herculean stature, who, we soon learned, possessed great versatility and vigour of mind. His manners, however, at first appeared so coa.r.s.e, and his conversation so blunt, that there seemed something exceedingly repulsive connected with his character.

But this impression soon wore away, and in a few days he became the centre of almost universal attraction. He was a true Kentuckian of the old school; he was born and brought up amid the stirring scenes connected with the early settlement of his native state, and was perfectly familiar with all the war legends, and every b.l.o.o.d.y fray from the first movement of Col.

Boone to the final expulsion of all the savage tribes from this their ancient hunting ground. To use his own language, he was "born in an Indian fort, and through childhood fed upon bear's meat, and clothed in buffalo skins." His physical strength seemed enormous, and he bore evident marks of being one of those brave, reckless characters that find pleasurable excitement in facing danger and death in every form. Yet he was not dest.i.tute of the softer and more kindly feelings of our nature, and withal seemed to have a high and reverential regard for religion.

It was now just at the close of a long summer's day. Our steamer for many a long weary hour had been pus.h.i.+ng her slow course up the broad current of the Mississippi, when there suddenly opened upon us a vast, far-extending prairie. To me this was an object of thrilling interest, and the more so because hitherto we had seen scarcely nothing upon either side of the river but unbroken and boundless forests, stretching away as far as the eye could reach to the distant horizon. But here was a vast expanse in which no tree, nor stump, nor stone was visible. Naught met the eye but the tall gra.s.s, waving in the breeze, bending, rising, and rolling to and fro like the waves of the ocean after a tempest; and this gra.s.sy surface interspersed with wild flowers of every colour, hue and form.

For a long time I watched this beauteous scene, till the shadows of evening began to settle down upon it. While I continued still gazing upon the prairie, the old Kentuckian, who stood near, was making his observations, and at length remarked, "That prairie on fire would be a n.o.ble sight! I have seen them burning in a dark night, while the wind sprung up and bore on the flames like a sea of fire. I can tell you a good story and a true one about a burning prairie, and a family who perished by the conflagration."

We were urgent for him to proceed in the narrative. He began by giving an account of the family that perished in this conflagration, with whose history he seemed quite familiar. It was a beautiful and touching picture of real life that he drew in describing this family as they lived somewhere in the valley of Onion River, amid the sublime mountain scenery of Vermont.

He represented Mr. N----, the father, as a hardy, sensible, and pious New England farmer. The family consisted of four children, two of whom, James and Lydia, were grown up to adult age, while George, the next son, was about thirteen years old, and the youngest daughter was only eight. Mr.

N---- had long toiled to acc.u.mulate a little property, but the increase had been so slow, that in a fit of discouragement he sold his little farm, and determined to emigrate to the Far West, where he learned he could purchase land at a very low price, and procure the means of subsistence with very little labour. He persuaded himself that by adopting this course he should be doing more justice to his children than by remaining in a country where property, and even the means of subsistence for a family, could be attained only by years of persevering toil. There was only one heart made sad by this determination, and that was the heart of his favourite and eldest daughter. Lydia N---- was a girl of excellent sense, and some personal attractions. She had interested the affections of a young man who had grown up with her from childhood. His father owned an adjoining farm. The two families were quite intimate, and many happy hours had Charles S---- and Lydia pa.s.sed together. This proposition of emigrating to the Far West seemed to the young people a death-blow to all their long-cherished hopes, as the circ.u.mstances of the young man did not warrant his forming a marriage connexion at once. But true affection is ready to make any sacrifices to attain its object. As soon as it was a settled point that Mr.

N---- was to leave, Charles S---- offered to accompany him in the capacity of a hired man, if he would accept his services. Mr. N---- a.s.sented, and every thing was arranged accordingly.

They were now on their way, moving in true western style. They expected to be weeks and months on their journey before they reached their distant home. The family and all the effects they bore with them, were carried in two stout wagons, each one of which was drawn by three yoke of oxen. Mr.

N---- or his eldest son usually acted as the driver of one of these wagons, while Charles S---- took charge of the other. They had already been on their journey many weeks, and had penetrated so far into the western world as to find it necessary to pitch their tents each night, and seek a lodging-place wherever the shades of evening overtook them. They at length entered the prairie country, and were for awhile almost spell-bound by the wide tracts of plain that stretched around them. To them the wonders of the boundless prairies appeared more amazing, because they had always been shut up by lofty mountains in a narrow dell, and had never till now looked abroad upon such amplitude and vastness of expanse.

They had now been travelling through prairie country for several days. It was late in autumn, though the weather continued as bland as summer. The day was bright and sunny; the wagons, each covered with a thick tow-cloth awning, and drawn by three yoke of oxen, were moving slowly on through the vast extended region of long gra.s.s, now sere and dry, which stretched around them like a sh.o.r.eless ocean, and gently bent and waved to and fro in the autumnal breeze. No house, nor stone, nor hillock, nor solitary tree were seen within the vast circle of the encompa.s.sing horizon. As the sun declined, and the shadows began to lengthen, the tops of a small grove began to be visible in the distance. The emigrants immediately determined to seek a place of encampment for the night in the neighbourhood of this grove; for they naturally concluded that they should there find a spring or rivulet that would furnish water for their cattle and for their own use, and fuel for cooking their evening meal. They had been successful this day in shooting a large quant.i.ty of prairie hens, and were antic.i.p.ating a delicious repast.

Mr. N---- proposed that James and himself should go on ahead of the wagons, and get every thing ready by the time they came up. They accordingly started off, having left Charles S---- to drive the forward wagon in which the family rode, and George to conduct the other. Mr. N---- and James, however, had gone but a few yards before Lydia came bounding through the long, sere gra.s.s, with the fleetness of a deer, bearing a tea-kettle in one hand, and three or four prairie hens in the other. Lydia, as we have before said, was full of sprightliness and vivacity, and she had too often clambered up the steep and rough sides of the Green Mountains to think any thing of a walk of two or three miles across the prairie. Her object in accompanying her father and brother was to hasten the evening meal; and as her father made no objection, the group moved on with quickened step towards the distant woods. They had already proceeded full three miles when they came to a beautiful spring of cool, clear water. Here they all sat down, and with grateful hearts partook largely of nature's refres.h.i.+ng beverage. In the mean time Mr. N---- drew his pipe from his pocket, and having filled it with the dried Indian weed, a supply of which he always carried with him, he soon ignited the same by means of his jack-knife and a flint. They were now only a short distance from the woods, and having filled a tea-kettle and a pail with water, they went forward and began to cut up some wood and prepare for kindling a fire.

And now the sun had set, and the evening shades were gathering fast around them. Beneath the covert of a large tree a fire was burning brightly, over which was suspended the tea-kettle and all things were ready for the arrival of the party on board of the wagons. Lydia ran out of the woods a little way into the prairie to see if she could any where discover the advancing party. She saw them about a half mile distant, moving slowly on, but she saw at hand, and near the spring, what greatly alarmed her--a smoke and flickering blaze. She ran back in great haste and said, "Father, I fear in lighting your pipe you have set the prairie on fire!"

Mr. N---- started up as though a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, and rushed forward to ascertain the truth of Lydia's remark, James and Lydia both following him. The moment they had emerged from the woods and got into the open prairie, the awful certainty burst upon them in a moment! What a sight then met their view! The prairie was indeed on fire. It was now quite dusky, and the little flickering blaze which Lydia had seen had already become a sea of fire! The wind drove the flames in the direction of their friends, whose escape seemed impossible.

The long dry gra.s.s, which had waved so gracefully in the wind, now caught every where like tinder, and sent up a long sheet of flame that widened and expanded every moment, and mounted up with increasing brightness and height, as though it would reach the very skies.

The feelings of this group were excited almost to agony in behalf of their friends. The thought at length struck them that if they could only succeed in getting them through the long line of flame, they might save them, as the conflagration was evidently moving off from the place where they stood; and as the column of flame seemed to extend more to the right than to the left, they embraced the determination to make an effort to reach their friends in that direction. Reckless of consequences, wild with despair, they instantly rushed forward, and succeeded in getting in advance of the fire in one place. But they soon saw that the enemy was coming upon them with the speed and the fury of the whirlwind. Mr. N---- lifted up his voice and shouted aloud, bidding the teams to move in this direction, but no sound was returned save the awful crackling of the advancing flames.

Darkness, too, covered the whole vast prairie, save where this sweeping column of fire spread its desolating track. They could no where discover a single trace of the wagons; and now they began to see the peril of their own situation. Already were they completely environed with the fire, and all retreat seemed cut off. The only hope left them was to endeavour to rush through the flames and get to the windward side of the conflagration.

Mr. N---- and James made their way for a while successfully through this awful tempest of flame, the daring Lydia keeping close at their heels. At length a point was gained which seemed to open the prospect of escape; not a moment was to be lost, for already the fire raged around them like a furnace. Mr. N----, drawing in his breath, dashed through this awful line of flame, and reached a spot where the consuming element ceased to rage, it having already swept away every vestige of combustible matter. Though scorched and smarting in every limb, he could not but feel grateful to G.o.d for this deliverance. He instantly turned to see what had become of his children. At this instant he saw one bright, lurid sheet of fire mounting up like a vast wave of the ocean, and completely overwhelming them! He rushed back to a.s.sist them, but the flame, like a furnace seven times heated, rolled its intense, fiery surge back upon him in such a manner that he was obliged to retreat. At this moment he heard Lydia shriek--her dress was all on fire, and her brother was trying to bear her through the raging tempest. When it had in some slight degree abated, again the father rushed forward--but another gust of wind swept such a torrent of fire over the bodies of his children that it was impossible for him to reach the spot where they were. When the burning waves had pa.s.sed by, he strained his eyes, but in vain, to catch a glimpse of these objects of his affection.

They were not visible. At length, as the fire marched on, he reached the spot where he had seen his children struggling with this awful element, and there he found them both, lying on the ground--their clothes nearly burnt off, and their bodies half consumed by the devouring flame! His poor daughter was gasping in death, and his son so dreadfully burned that he could scarcely move a limb. The fire was still burning the roots of the gra.s.s around and beneath them. A little distance, however, there was a spot where the consuming element had exhausted itself; to this place he endeavoured to remove his children. Poor Lydia almost expired in his arms.

As he laid her down on this black and scathed spot of earth, she faintly said, "Christ is my hope! Jesus can make this resting-place 'soft as downy pillows are!'" The father hastened to remove his son to the same spot. He there laid him with his face turned towards his sister. He soon saw that she was dead, and said to his father, "This is a sad night for us; Lydia is gone, and I think I shall soon follow."

"This is an hour," replied his father, "in which all we can do is to look to G.o.d. He has said 'when thou pa.s.sest through the fire I will be with thee.'"

"Will you pray with me, dear father?"

"I will," said the agonised father, and kneeling down on the blackened earth, while bending over one child already dead, and another almost ready to expire, he cried unto G.o.d for help and mercy. When he arose from his knees he perceived that James's breathing was more rapid and embarra.s.sed than it had been before. A dreadful fever was burning through his veins.

"I shall soon be," said the dying son, "where the flame can no longer kindle upon me; and I shall be able to bathe in the cool, refres.h.i.+ng stream that flows from the throne of G.o.d and the Lamb."

"G.o.d grant," said the father, "that an entrance may be ministered unto thee abundantly into his everlasting kingdom." "Amen," responded James, and died. The chill of death had suddenly come over him, and his spirit fled to the presence of his Maker and Judge.

The father sat for a long time on the ground gazing upon his dead children.

The curtain of darkness was drawn over the scene--but here and there dissipated by the dying and reviving embers, and flickering flame that still lingered on almost every spot over which the awful conflagration had swept. An unsteady, lurid light, just sufficient to reveal the wide-spread scene of desolation, was thus flung over the dark and blackened waste where the consuming element had a few hours before rode on in his resplendent car. At the distance of a few miles, and as far to the right and left as the eye could reach, rose one vast extended column of flame, mounting up to heaven amid the darkness of midnight, and marching on with the speed, and fierceness, and fury of the whirlwind. It was an awful and sublime sight!

Here the father sat by the side of his lifeless and unbreathing children; the stillness of solitude was around him;--and there, bursting up from amid thick darkness, was this tremendous conflagration, which seemed so bright, and fierce, and awful, that one could hardly refrain from thinking it would burn up the world and melt the elements with its fervent heat.

But I ought before this to have told the reader the account the Kentuckian gave of the fate of those who were connected with the advancing wagons.

They had seen the smoke of the fire that was to cook their evening meal curling above the trees, and directed their course to that point as the spot where they should meet their friends. They were not at all aware of the coming of this awful conflagration, or of the approach of danger, till they saw the whole prairie directly before them lit up with one extended sheet of flame. No one can depict the terror, the anguish, the horror of that moment! No one can depict the sublimity and grandeur of the scene that at that moment burst upon their view! But fear and wild distraction took complete possession of the whole company. The very cattle that drew the wagons seemed to sympathise with them, and to discover at once that their fate was sealed.

We have already remarked that the fire extended more rapidly in one lateral direction than the other. This Charles S---- observed, and immediately sought to take advantage of it, and if possible get to the windward of the fire. But long before they reached the line of the flame, the fire had extended miles in this very direction. It was too late--there was no escape--the fire was every moment approaching them. Mrs. N---- clasped her young daughter to her bosom and sat still in the wagon. The oxen, as the flames advanced, became perfectly unmanageable. They rushed forward with the fury of wild and maddened beasts into the thickest of the flames. The one team took one direction, and the other, another, but both of them continued to move on through the hottest column of flame, till at length the cattle one after another fell down in the yoke, suffocated by the flame, and bellowing as though in the agonies of death. Long before the last ox had fallen, and the wagon had ceased to move, Mrs. N----, with her youngest child clasped to her bosom, had given up the ghost. The tow awning which covered the wagon in which she rode, took fire almost as soon as they met the line of flame, and instantly all the combustible materials in the vehicle were in flames. Escape seemed impossible, for already the oxen were moving with the speed of the wind through the thickest of the flames, and Mrs. N.----, clasping her child to her bosom, yielded to her fate, committing all to G.o.d. Poor George, not able to keep pace with the team he drove, as he saw the flame marching on, sought by running to escape from the face of the devouring element, but the attempt was vain. The whirlwind of fire soon overtook him, and like a resistless sea, rolled its burning waves over him. When Charles S---- saw the team he drove could no longer be controlled, and that in order to follow them he must encounter certain death, he left them to take their own course, and sought to rush through the line of flame--which had now become so expanded, that long before he pa.s.sed the fiery column, the flesh was almost burned from his bones, and he at length fell down upon the burning earth, unable to move a step farther.

The fire still moved on with awful, unabated fury over the wide and far-extended prairie. No one that looked upon that awful sight could have failed to have exclaimed, "What a time it will be for the unG.o.dly when this whole world shall be on fire!"

When the morning came, a most melancholy spectacle was presented to view over that blackened plain. One solitary living human form alone, was seen slowly moving amid the scene of desolation--and that was Mr. N----. He found Charles S---- just in the last agonies of death, from whom, however, he learned the particulars above stated. This young man soon expired; and Mr. N----, alone, of all that emigrant train, was left to tell the sad story of THE BURNING PRAIRIE.

CHAPTER IX.

FURTHER VIEWS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

Des Moines River--Iowa--Group of Indians--Tributary streams to the Mississippi--Galena--Bishop of Illinois--My sister's grave.

_Friday Evening, July 7th._

Having pa.s.sed the Des Moines river, the whole country bordering on the west bank of the Mississippi, is denominated the Wisconsin Territory, or more commonly here, _the Iowa country_. It is indeed a most beautiful country.

It is said that a little more than four years since, there was not a single white settler west of the Mississippi and north of Des Moines river; now, there are between thirty and forty thousand. The Iowa country will, undoubtedly, soon become a state. Its new towns are springing up rapidly. I stopped at Burlington, where there are more than twelve hundred inhabitants, and where two years since there were only a few log-cabins.

How important is it that the gospel should be planted here! The Methodists are beginning to send their preachers to proclaim salvation here. Every where we find them first on the ground. Truly their promptness and zeal are to be commended.--We have not a clergyman in this whole region. Cannot one be found who is willing to go to the Iowa country? Is there not one in the cla.s.ses now graduating in our seminaries, that will come over to this Macedon and help them?

As the day declined, the scenery around us seemed still more pleasing. The prairies on the left bank of the Mississippi became increasingly interesting. The river stretched before us like a broad lake, indented at a hundred points by ma.s.ses of luxuriant and thickly cl.u.s.tered trees, that seemed to float in natural and upright form upon the surface. These, with all their verdant foliage, were distinctly reflected from the mirrored bosom of the unruffled waters, so that we seemed, as we gazed upon the watery surface, to look into the very depths of the forest, and see one tree standing back of another almost interminably. While thus gliding on, by a turn of the river we came suddenly upon the corner of another large prairie, and almost the first object that met our view were two rude bark covered wigwams that had just been put up on the very margin of the stream.

In front of these cabins a fire had been kindled, either to keep off the musquitoes or to cook their evening meal. At the entrance of these Indian huts lay a dog, and around him stood or sat half a dozen Indian children, some of them in a state of almost entire nudity. Still nearer the water, looking into it, and off on to the opposite sh.o.r.e, stood the adult members of each family. These scarcely raised their head, or deigned to cast a glance at us, as our boat with all its clattering machinery swept proudly by.--While I continued to look at them, and saw them standing amid the solitariness of the prairie, with their eyes still fixed upon the opposite bank of the river, where rested the bones of their ancestors--when I saw how dignified, and serious, and contemplative they seemed, I could not but regard them as the last representatives of a race fast fading away, and who will soon scarcely have a place or name this side of the Rocky Mountains.

It seemed to me that they were standing at this twilight hour looking once more upon the sh.o.r.e where rested the bones of their people, before they bade a final adieu to these scenes where they used once to hunt the deer, glide over the watery surface with their bark canoes, raise the luxuriant corn, and build their wigwams. Strangers now possessed their home, and they were just bidding to the scenes of their childhood a _long, long farewell_!

Oh, thought I, that they could have the gospel to tame their fierceness, soften their savage natures, and cheer them in their solitary wanderings through the wilderness! It occurred to me as very likely that those Indians who stood there on the bank of the Mississippi, knew nothing of the way of salvation, and very likely had never heard of the name of Jesus! We know there are thousands that range over the great hunting grounds of the west precisely in this condition. We are going to meet them at the judgment bar--shall we not make every effort to send them the gospel?

_Sat.u.r.day Evening, July 8th._

We found ourselves, when we awoke in the morning, at Stevenson. This is another of those places springing up as by the wand of enchantment. It is located at one of the most beautiful points in all the west. Just here Rock River enters the Mississippi, separating the town from Rock Island, on which stands Fort Armstrong. It was in reference to the section of country just around here, that the Black Hawk war took its rise, and all along above was the scene where it raged. I do not wonder that the Indians gave up this tract of country with reluctance. The eye never looked out upon a more beautiful land--the imagination in its most romantic flight never conceived any thing more lovely. On the Iowa side, especially, the country sweeps off from the sh.o.r.e most beautifully in the form of a rolling prairie, covered here and there with small cl.u.s.ters of trees, that give it the aspect and loveliness of a region that had been under the highest cultivation for the last three centuries. And yet five years ago no foot trod there but the Indian's.

The day pa.s.sed pleasantly away. As the shades of evening gathered thick around us, we bade adieu to the mighty Mississippi, on whose broad current we had travelled nearly seven hundred miles. Our boat turned in behind an islet of living green, and pushed its way up the serpentine course of _Fevre River_. At length Galena was in view. It was at the close of the week, and here we were to seek a resting place for a number of days.

_Galena, July 15th._

Fevre River, at Galena, runs through a narrow vale, and is hedged in on either side by ranges of hills. The town is built at the base and on the side of the western ridge, which is here quite precipitous. The valley itself is overflown with every rise of the Mississippi above this point.

The waters of the Fevre River between Galena and its junction with the "Father of rivers" are very sluggish--so that the waters of the Mississippi flow up to Galena often three or four times a year, and flood the whole lower part of the town. Since I have been here the third rise which they have had this season occurred, occasioned as it was supposed by the melting of the snows and ice around the sources of the most northern tributaries of the Mississippi. One thing is very remarkable in relation to the whole cla.s.s of western tributaries to this stream. The freshets to which they are subject, all occur at different seasons, beginning with the southernmost and ending with the most northerly. This is accounted for by the fact, that, as these streams take their rise at different points of lat.i.tude in the Rocky Mountains, spring and summer reach the source of each of them in regular progression from south to north, by a few weeks later. This is a most merciful provision: for if the freshets in two or three of these streams were to happen at the same time, the effects would be desolating.

Let the Red River, the Arkansas, and the Missouri, pour their swollen streams at the time of their annual freshets, together into the Mississippi, and the whole lower regions for hundreds of miles above and around New Orleans would be one unbroken sea. What a tremendous armament of destruction has the Almighty here! Have not the inhabitants of that city which has seated herself as a queen at the mouth of this river, reason to remember that the Lord can bury them in a moment in the midst of the sea?

He has only to blow with his wind, and the waters will flow, and the depths cover them! Let those who openly and remorselessly trample on every law of G.o.d consider this and tremble.

Galena is by no means a pleasant town. There are some situations on the hills which environ it that would furnish delightful sites for residences, but at present these are chiefly unoccupied. The streets of this place are narrow, and after a rain unspeakably _muddy_. The houses are small, poor, and crowded. There is nothing interesting or attractive about the appearance of the town, except in a business point of view. Galena is the port where almost all the lead raised from the vast mines scattered through this region is brought to be s.h.i.+pped, and will therefore unquestionably be a place of great importance. Its moral character, I fear, is far from what we could wish it. Like many of these western towns, till recently, there has been scarcely the semblance of a Sabbath here. Drinking, duelling, and gambling, have all been common.--And yet there are many here that wish things were different, and are making some successful efforts to cause them to be so.

The Bishop of Illinois was here, and officiated the first Sunday I spent in Galena. He bore his testimony very faithfully, in rebuking the prevailing sins of the country, especially duelling, Sabbath-breaking, and profane swearing. I believe his counsel was very kindly received. There is a great deal of intelligence among the residents in this place, and they seem willing to have the truth preached to them plainly.

To me there was one object of thrilling interest in Galena--_its grave yard_! Some half-mile from the town, on the head lands beyond the western range of hills that encompa.s.sed it, where one stands and looks down into the valley of Fevre River, and off upon the far-spreading prairie, in a retired place, is the spot of earth allotted to the dead, shut in and guarded from unhallowed tread by a neat enclosure. Owing to the newness of the country, and the difficulty in procuring marble, scarcely a single sculptured monument appears on this ground which has already become the resting place of many who were once engaged amid the activities of life.