The Caledonian

"Eternity and Time
Met for a moment here."

I trace my way to a quiet dwelling, from which a few days since I followed the earthly remains of an acquaintance to "the house appointed for all the living." She had been called at but a brief warning, and in the meridian of life, to bid a long, a last adieu to all terrestrial scenes;—to sun, moon and stars;—to the anticipated joys of returning spring, just as its beauties were beginning to bud, and the joyous minstrels of the grove had commenced their heart cheering music;—to all earthly friends—all earthly hopes & fears—all earthly joys and sorrows. O grave! who can withstand thy silent eloquence? While thou art the dread of the many, and the hope of the few; none that will listen, can remain unmoved, unaffected at thy soul-stirring admonitions; for thou canst cause to vibrate those chords which no mortal preacher can touch! But I turn from thee, to sympathise with those from whose circle thou hast claimed a daughter, a sister:—but one who saw nothing in thy nature to dread,—naught in thy power to fear. I listen to a brief narration of her last hours—her then estimated value of the world—her parting farewell—her willingness and even desire to depart and go to her Saviour God, in a brighter, a glorious, a better world. And as the recital proceeds from woman's lips accompanied with woman's tears, even those who watched around the sick bed of a departed sister—I cannot, I would not refrain from dropping with them the sympathising tear; while I read in their countenances those emotions so beautifully expressed by the poet:-

"While the wounds of woe are healing.
While the heart is all resigned,
'Tis the solemn feast of feeling;
'Tis the Sabbath of the mind."

The apostle enjoins upon us to "weep with those who weep;" and a greater than he hath left us an example of like import, touching at once the understanding and the heart. And aside from the consideration of it being a duty to mingle our sorrows with those of our friends and neighbors, the house of mourning may and ever should be made both useful and instructive to ourselves. 'Tis there the strong chords which bind us to the world, seem to relax. 'Tis there our love for its vain, unsatisfying baubles seems to abate; and its delusive dreams present to us an appearance somewhat nearer their true character. It is there we feel stirring within us that holy sympathy for our fellow travelers on the pilgrimage of life, which no worldly prosperity no pecuniary adversity can awaken And none who have not, to some extent, participated in such scenes, felt emotions like these, can properly understand that passage in the Holy Writ—"It is better to go to the house of mourning than the house of feasting."—Christian Panoply,

JAMES CALDWELL'S ESTATE.