Such was not the fashion of our fathers when they carried a friend to his grave . There is now no doleful clang of the bell to proclaim sorrow to the town . Was the King of Terrors more awful in those days than in our own , that wisdom and philosophy have been able to produce this change ? Not so . Here is a proof that he retains his proper majesty . The military men and the military boys are wheeling round the corner , and meet the funeral full in the face . Immediately the drum is silent , all but the tap that regulates each simultaneous footfall . The soldiers yield the path to the dusty hearse and unpretending train , and the children quit their ranks and cluster on the sidewalks with timorous and instinctive curiosity . The mourners enter the churchyard at the base of the steeple and pause by an open grave among the burial-stones ; the lightning glimmers on them as they lower down the coffin , and the thunder rattles heavily while they throw the earth upon its lid . Verily , the shower is near , and I tremble for the young man and the girls , who have now disappeared from the long and shady street . How various are the situations of the people covered by the roofs beneath me , and how diversified are the events at this moment befalling them ! The new-born , the aged , the dying , the strong in life and the recent dead are in the chambers of these many mansions . The full of hope , the happy , the miserable and the desperate dwell together within the circle of my glance . In some of the houses over which my eyes roam so coldly guilt is entering into hearts that are still tenanted by a debased and trodden virtue ; guilt is on the very edge of commission , and the impending deed might be averted ; guilt is done , and the criminal wonders if it be irrevocable . There are broad thoughts struggling in my mind , and , were I able to give them distinctness , they would make their way in eloquence . Lo ! the raindrops are descending . The clouds within a little time have gathered over all the sky , hanging heavily , as if about to drop in one unbroken mass upon the earth . At intervals the lightning flashes from their brooding hearts , quivers , disappears , and then comes the thunder , travelling slowly after its twin-born flame . A strong wind has sprung up , howls through the darkened streets , and raises the dust in dense bodies to rebel against the approaching storm .
The disbanded soldiers fly , the funeral has already vanished like its dead , and all people hurry homeward -- all that have a home -- while a few lounge by the corners or trudge XXXXX desperately at their leisure .
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