A monument should at least be "starry-pointing," to indicate whither the spirit has gone, and not prostrate like the body it has deserted. There have been some nations who could do nothing but construct tombs, and these are the only traces they have left. They are the heathen. But why these stones so upright and emphatic like exclamation points? What was there so remarkable that lived? Why should the monument be so much more enduring than the fame which it is designed to commemorate--a stone to a bone? "Here lies ___" Why do they not sometimes write, "There rises?" Is it a monument to the body only that is intended? "Having ended the term of his natural life." Would it not be truer to say, "Having ended the term of his unnatural life?" The rarest quality in an epitaph is truth. If any character is given it should be as severely true as the decision of judges, and not the partial testimony of friends. Friends and contemporaries should supply only the name and date, and leave it to posterity to write the epitaph. OPPOSITE THE OLD SHORE ROAD The Old World bended low beneath a load Of bigotry and superstitions dark, When Liberty, amid the tottering thrones Of despots born, with gladness filled the homes Of men, e'en the Eternal City bade Her gates imperial open wide; and, like A cloud the darkness lifted from the land. Then Freedom's gentle, buoyant spirit, like The Magi's wand, extended far across The sea, and thereupon the gloomy flood Was parted wide asunder, and revealed A glorious paradise for Freedom's sons. Columbia, beneath thy banner's stars, The mind of man in rare luxuriance blooms, Unfolding one by one the attributes Of deity. In vision we foresee The perfect man. In form the image of His Maker, God. In toleration filled With charity for all. In Reason's Ways Profound. In thought, he mounts the throne of power And sways the world. He tries frolic Nature's grasp To lure her secrets still untold till we, Amazed at his bold course, recoil abashed. --Willis Boughton. CHAPTER XI THE OLD SHORE ROAD AND THE PILGRIM SPIRIT The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock bound coast, And the woods against the stormy sky Their giant branches tossed.