Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

172 ANNALS OF OUR ANCESTORS
gone, as if the earth had opened up and swallowed them from
sight. For a moment I thought: "Am I Rip Van Winkle?"
Along the broken way Italian workmen sat eating their dinners,
redolent of garlic; and about us all the ground lay "in one long
term of stagnant desolation!" We were later told that a Jew
had bought up these lots which had been Hoffner's garden and
had carted off the works of art and broken the ground for an
extensive factory; and so with disappointment we turned from
this ruin — as complete as was the ancient destruction of
Jerusalem, not one stone being left upon another.
Not satisfied, we went over to Spring Grove Cemetery,
where stood the tomb HofFner had built in the palmy days of
his strong manhood. We found the hand of time had done
its work here, too. In our childhood the cemetery had been
enclosed by an osage orange hedge, and this was kept well
trimmed and was a covert from the storm for many dear little
birds that built their nests and reared their young there; but
I suppose even the memory of that hedge has perished, and
perhaps also of the sharp picket fence which succeeded it. At
the time of our visit a high solid board fence kept out intruders.
The principal entrance was more imposing than in the old
days, and I thought as I looked upon it once more of the
hundreds and thousands of funeral trains of coaches and
horses which had passed through those portals; indeed, through
the years they have been of almost hourly occurrence, and the
tolling of the bell by the gatekeeper has echoed for most of
the hours of light in mournful cadence amongst the hdls.
I well remember the first monuments erected and the lay-
ing out of the beautiful avenues and landscape gardens of this
largest and probably most picturesque cemetery in the world.
I have kept watch of this beautiful city of the dead through all
the years of my life, noting its changes. Once I visited it
when it was customary to place flowers and little mementoes
on the grave. There were the doll house and empty chair
and picture of the departed; there, too, one often saw the
marbles and the bat and ball the little boy left with his play.
Amongst the poor, who had an extensive burial ground on the
first bench of the valley, were most touching memorials speak-