Memoir of the Farrar Family (Classic Reprint)

Excerpt from Memoir of the Farrar Family

With slow and solemn step we walk the clois tered aisle of the deserted temple, once crowded with worshippers, the living men of a nation long since expired. Its mutilated walls, its broken pil lars, its crumbling arches, its forsaken altars, its vacant niches, its fallen statues of the mighty dead, its scattered fragments and mouldering ruins, are the authentic history of centuries far remote. We delight to linger in thoughtful silence amid the venerable ruins. They speak to us with solemn pathos of the past. Let not profane lips disturb the silent eloquence of their decaying splendor. Theliving spirit of buried centuries is there communing with our own. We hear a voice within saying put thy shoes from off thy feet, for thou art tread ing upon the consecrated dust of a nation's sapul chre.

With similar emotions we behold the mighty cataract, and listen to the thunder of its roar, for it carries us far back into the solitude of ages, when no voice but its own broke the eternal silence, when no eye but that of the All-seeing beheld its massive torrent and the arching of its rainbows. The same feeling arises when we survey the rocky mountain-head, upon which eternity hath snowed its years.

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