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Literary
March 8, 1842
The Caledonian
Saint Johnsbury, Caledonia County, Vermont
What is this article about?
A poignant prose narrative describes the deathbed scene of a young girl fatally injured in a cart accident. As she dies, she whispers to her mother her wish to be buried in the garden instead of the cold graveyard, evoking profound sorrow among the family.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
Youth's Department.
"BURY ME IN THE GARDEN."
BY ELIHU BURRITT.
There was sorrow there, and tears were in every eye; and there were low, half-suppressed sobbings heard from every corner of the room; but the little sufferer was still, its young spirit was just on the verge of departure.
The mother was bending over it in all the speechless yearnings of parental love, with one arm under its pillow, and with the other unconsciously drawing the little dying girl closer and closer to her bosom. Poor thing! in the bright and dewy morning, it had followed out behind its father into the field, and while he was there engaged in labor, it had pattered around among the meadow flowers, and stuck its bosom full, and all its burnished tresses, with carmine and lily-tinted things, and returning tired to the father's side, he lifted it upon the loaded cart; but a stone in the road had shaken it from its seat, and the ponderous, iron-rimmed wheels had ground it down into the very cart-path, and the little crushed creature was dying.
We had all gathered up closely to its bedside, and were hanging over the young, bruised thing, to see if it yet breathed, when a slight movement came over its lips, and its eyes partly opened—there was no voice, but there was something beneath its eyelids, which a mother could alone interpret. Its lips trembled again—and we all held our breath its eyes opened a little farther, and then we heard the departing spirit whisper in that ear which touched those ashy lips: "Mother! mother! don't let them carry me away down to the dark, cold, grave-yard, but bury me in the garden—in the garden, mother."
A little sister, whose eyes were raining down with the meltings of her heart, had crept up to the bedside, and taking the hand of the dying girl, sobbed aloud in its ear. "Julia! Julia! can't you speak to Antoinette?"
The last struggling pulsation of expiring nature struggled hard to enable that little spirit to utter one more wish and word of affection; its soul was on its lips as it whispered again: "Bury me in the garden, mother—bury me in the"—and a quivering came over its limbs—one feeble struggle, and all was still.
Many years have passed since we stood by that bedside, yet the scene is vividly impressed on my spirit as at the first, and I cannot dwell upon it without tears.—Patriarch.
"BURY ME IN THE GARDEN."
BY ELIHU BURRITT.
There was sorrow there, and tears were in every eye; and there were low, half-suppressed sobbings heard from every corner of the room; but the little sufferer was still, its young spirit was just on the verge of departure.
The mother was bending over it in all the speechless yearnings of parental love, with one arm under its pillow, and with the other unconsciously drawing the little dying girl closer and closer to her bosom. Poor thing! in the bright and dewy morning, it had followed out behind its father into the field, and while he was there engaged in labor, it had pattered around among the meadow flowers, and stuck its bosom full, and all its burnished tresses, with carmine and lily-tinted things, and returning tired to the father's side, he lifted it upon the loaded cart; but a stone in the road had shaken it from its seat, and the ponderous, iron-rimmed wheels had ground it down into the very cart-path, and the little crushed creature was dying.
We had all gathered up closely to its bedside, and were hanging over the young, bruised thing, to see if it yet breathed, when a slight movement came over its lips, and its eyes partly opened—there was no voice, but there was something beneath its eyelids, which a mother could alone interpret. Its lips trembled again—and we all held our breath its eyes opened a little farther, and then we heard the departing spirit whisper in that ear which touched those ashy lips: "Mother! mother! don't let them carry me away down to the dark, cold, grave-yard, but bury me in the garden—in the garden, mother."
A little sister, whose eyes were raining down with the meltings of her heart, had crept up to the bedside, and taking the hand of the dying girl, sobbed aloud in its ear. "Julia! Julia! can't you speak to Antoinette?"
The last struggling pulsation of expiring nature struggled hard to enable that little spirit to utter one more wish and word of affection; its soul was on its lips as it whispered again: "Bury me in the garden, mother—bury me in the"—and a quivering came over its limbs—one feeble struggle, and all was still.
Many years have passed since we stood by that bedside, yet the scene is vividly impressed on my spirit as at the first, and I cannot dwell upon it without tears.—Patriarch.
What sub-type of article is it?
Prose Fiction
What themes does it cover?
Death Mortality
What keywords are associated?
Dying Child
Deathbed Wish
Garden Burial
Parental Love
Family Sorrow
What entities or persons were involved?
By Elihu Burritt.
Literary Details
Title
"Bury Me In The Garden."
Author
By Elihu Burritt.
Subject
A Dying Child's Wish To Be Buried In The Garden
Key Lines
"Mother! Mother! Don't Let Them Carry Me Away Down To The Dark, Cold, Grave Yard, But Bury Me In The Garden—In The Garden, Mother."
"Bury Me In The Garden, Mother—Bury Me In The"—And A Quivering Came Over Its Limbs—One Feeble Struggle, And All Was Still.