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THE ASHTABULA DISASTER.

Citizens could take up the poor remains, whenno one else could claim them, and could burythem with all the attention and kindness whichwas in their hearts, but no sense of possessionwas ever theirs; therefore, they were happy whofelt and knew that the sacred ashes of theirloved had been covered by the beautiful snow,and the valley was their grave.

The stream could sound their requiem; thelake could moan its lament, and every wavemight be supposed to carry a portion of theirprecious forms to distant shores; but God alonecould gather the elements, and fashion it for thefuture love. Xothing but the sacred urn of earth,which contains all that is mortal of the humanrace—nothing but this, is the depository of thoseloved forms which were once so full of life; buteverything in nature becomes the more preciousto the longing heart. Unseen fingers shallweave their garments in the spring, and thesongs shall burst forth from those forest hills,but the better land contains their spirits, and tothat, the living must go to claim their own.