File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by:
Dorothy Winters [email protected] August 25, 2008, 6:11 pm
Some Newspaper Based In Mississippi 1943
Pages From An Old Scrap Book
by Anabel Power
THE OLD SHARON CEMETERY
One Sunday afternoon last autumn we drove with a party of friends to
rural Sharon, the original county seat of Madison county, to see the beautiful
old cemetery about which we had heard so often. Sharon is seven miles east of
Canton, the present county seat. It was once a community of wealthy, cultured
plantation owners whose homes and ancestral acres were the pride of that
section before the Civil War, where slaves tended the homes, helped “raise” the
children and made the cotton that was the chief source of the great wealth of
that period. Their Sharon Male College and Female College boasted the best in
education facilities that the country could provide.
Now it is a small inland community with but a few of the descendants of
the original families but those are typical of the traditions and culture of
the old South and form a group of friendly neighbors with common interests.
Their greatest common interest is the care of the old graveyard in the heart of
the village where for more than a hundred years their forefathers have been
buried. Visitors come from far and near to see this beauty spot in our
southland.
There was a stillness in the air that Sunday afternoon as we drove the
short distance from Canton–just a negro cabin here and there by the wayside
with quiet, home-loving negroes in their Sunday clothes sitting on their small
porches and children playing in the yards–no other signs of human life.
We were told some of the legends of the country of the old families,
and of the old burying ground but we were not prepared for the arresting beauty
of the place and the feeling of peace and serenity that we sensed immediately.
The little cemetery is no larger than a city block, enclosed with a heavy
wrought iron fence that antedates the Civil War; the sward was as green and
smooth as a city lawn, kept in perfect condition from year to year through
contributions from the descendants of those buried there. The care of the old
burying ground is lovingly supervised by Mrs. Annie Prichard Coulter and Leon
Pace.
Bees droned, mocking birds trilled their love songs, the air was cool
with the tinge of autumn and the sunlight, flitting through the age old trees,
rested caressingly on one grave, then another. Surrounding it on three sides is
a dense growth of gnarled cedar trees and giant oaks, casting a protecting
shade and standing like rugged sentinels keeping watch o’er the dead.
Large bushes of Cape Jessamines higher than one’s head with intertwined
branches forming a trunk larger than a man’s body were here, there and
everywhere and in season the perfume from their waxen blooms fills the nearby
countryside. Roses, scarlet, pink and creamy white bloomed in profusion and
wild honeysuckle, clambering over the fence in numbers of places lent its
perfume.
The sense of peace, serenity and beauty was deeply impressive. . .
removed from the sound of traffic, with only the wind sighing gently through
the old trees, and the songs of mockingbirds.
Many of the graves was there since the 1700's. Costly marble slabs are
deeply carved with names and inscriptions that give an insight into the family
life, wealth and culture of the time. There are some graves, noticeably of
small children, with heavy iron, vault-like coverings, of an earlier period. A
number of Confederate soldiers are buried on a gentle slope under the old
trees, fighting together in life, sleeping together in death.
As we wondered in and out among the graves, we noted the names of men
and women, prominent in the history of that section of Mississippi in other
days:
The Boyles family, Magruders, Prichards, Hollidays, Soffs, Allens and
Wiggins, the last four (parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents of Mrs
John Sharp of Jackson), Coulters, Colemans, Paces, Divines, Baldwins,
O’Leary’s, Turners, and others. Some of these have been brought from far away
lands in recent years to sleep besides their loved ones.
Only one grave differed from the others. In a far off corner, all
alone, covered with a slab of costly marble, stained by the weather of a
hundred years, is the grave of a young girl, with the outpouring of some
tortured heart carved deep into the marble, and still perfectly legible. A
solitary rose bush with white blossoms stood near the head. On the slab is
carved:
“Here repose the mortal remains of
SARAH N. BURNS
She was born April 15, 1832 and died September 23, 1847.
Her career on earth was short. She was the child of affliction. The
protracted illness from which she died was caused by the mismanagement and
officious interference of pretended friends, but she passed triumphantly away
and her last words were, “Come, Lord Jesus and take me home.”
“The beauty of the leaf is gone
The beauty of the flower is risen
The birds to other climes have flown
And there’s an angel more in Heaven.”
Additional Comments:
This wonderful article has been re-typed just as it was printed. We proofed it
before sending it. I am sorry I don't know which newspaper it came from as this
article has been handed down through several generations.
I have a copy of the original, but it contains no date or identification, and I
just guessed at the year.
Dorothy
Dorothy Winters [email protected] August 25, 2008, 6:11 pm
Some Newspaper Based In Mississippi 1943
Pages From An Old Scrap Book
by Anabel Power
THE OLD SHARON CEMETERY
One Sunday afternoon last autumn we drove with a party of friends to
rural Sharon, the original county seat of Madison county, to see the beautiful
old cemetery about which we had heard so often. Sharon is seven miles east of
Canton, the present county seat. It was once a community of wealthy, cultured
plantation owners whose homes and ancestral acres were the pride of that
section before the Civil War, where slaves tended the homes, helped “raise” the
children and made the cotton that was the chief source of the great wealth of
that period. Their Sharon Male College and Female College boasted the best in
education facilities that the country could provide.
Now it is a small inland community with but a few of the descendants of
the original families but those are typical of the traditions and culture of
the old South and form a group of friendly neighbors with common interests.
Their greatest common interest is the care of the old graveyard in the heart of
the village where for more than a hundred years their forefathers have been
buried. Visitors come from far and near to see this beauty spot in our
southland.
There was a stillness in the air that Sunday afternoon as we drove the
short distance from Canton–just a negro cabin here and there by the wayside
with quiet, home-loving negroes in their Sunday clothes sitting on their small
porches and children playing in the yards–no other signs of human life.
We were told some of the legends of the country of the old families,
and of the old burying ground but we were not prepared for the arresting beauty
of the place and the feeling of peace and serenity that we sensed immediately.
The little cemetery is no larger than a city block, enclosed with a heavy
wrought iron fence that antedates the Civil War; the sward was as green and
smooth as a city lawn, kept in perfect condition from year to year through
contributions from the descendants of those buried there. The care of the old
burying ground is lovingly supervised by Mrs. Annie Prichard Coulter and Leon
Pace.
Bees droned, mocking birds trilled their love songs, the air was cool
with the tinge of autumn and the sunlight, flitting through the age old trees,
rested caressingly on one grave, then another. Surrounding it on three sides is
a dense growth of gnarled cedar trees and giant oaks, casting a protecting
shade and standing like rugged sentinels keeping watch o’er the dead.
Large bushes of Cape Jessamines higher than one’s head with intertwined
branches forming a trunk larger than a man’s body were here, there and
everywhere and in season the perfume from their waxen blooms fills the nearby
countryside. Roses, scarlet, pink and creamy white bloomed in profusion and
wild honeysuckle, clambering over the fence in numbers of places lent its
perfume.
The sense of peace, serenity and beauty was deeply impressive. . .
removed from the sound of traffic, with only the wind sighing gently through
the old trees, and the songs of mockingbirds.
Many of the graves was there since the 1700's. Costly marble slabs are
deeply carved with names and inscriptions that give an insight into the family
life, wealth and culture of the time. There are some graves, noticeably of
small children, with heavy iron, vault-like coverings, of an earlier period. A
number of Confederate soldiers are buried on a gentle slope under the old
trees, fighting together in life, sleeping together in death.
As we wondered in and out among the graves, we noted the names of men
and women, prominent in the history of that section of Mississippi in other
days:
The Boyles family, Magruders, Prichards, Hollidays, Soffs, Allens and
Wiggins, the last four (parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents of Mrs
John Sharp of Jackson), Coulters, Colemans, Paces, Divines, Baldwins,
O’Leary’s, Turners, and others. Some of these have been brought from far away
lands in recent years to sleep besides their loved ones.
Only one grave differed from the others. In a far off corner, all
alone, covered with a slab of costly marble, stained by the weather of a
hundred years, is the grave of a young girl, with the outpouring of some
tortured heart carved deep into the marble, and still perfectly legible. A
solitary rose bush with white blossoms stood near the head. On the slab is
carved:
“Here repose the mortal remains of
SARAH N. BURNS
She was born April 15, 1832 and died September 23, 1847.
Her career on earth was short. She was the child of affliction. The
protracted illness from which she died was caused by the mismanagement and
officious interference of pretended friends, but she passed triumphantly away
and her last words were, “Come, Lord Jesus and take me home.”
“The beauty of the leaf is gone
The beauty of the flower is risen
The birds to other climes have flown
And there’s an angel more in Heaven.”
Additional Comments:
This wonderful article has been re-typed just as it was printed. We proofed it
before sending it. I am sorry I don't know which newspaper it came from as this
article has been handed down through several generations.
I have a copy of the original, but it contains no date or identification, and I
just guessed at the year.
Dorothy
File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by:
Dorothy Winters [email protected] August 25, 2008, 6:11 pm
Some Newspaper Based In Mississippi 1943
Pages From An Old Scrap Book
by Anabel Power
THE OLD SHARON CEMETERY
One Sunday afternoon last autumn we drove with a party of friends to
rural Sharon, the original county seat of Madison county, to see the beautiful
old cemetery about which we had heard so often. Sharon is seven miles east of
Canton, the present county seat. It was once a community of wealthy, cultured
plantation owners whose homes and ancestral acres were the pride of that
section before the Civil War, where slaves tended the homes, helped “raise” the
children and made the cotton that was the chief source of the great wealth of
that period. Their Sharon Male College and Female College boasted the best in
education facilities that the country could provide.
Now it is a small inland community with but a few of the descendants of
the original families but those are typical of the traditions and culture of
the old South and form a group of friendly neighbors with common interests.
Their greatest common interest is the care of the old graveyard in the heart of
the village where for more than a hundred years their forefathers have been
buried. Visitors come from far and near to see this beauty spot in our
southland.
There was a stillness in the air that Sunday afternoon as we drove the
short distance from Canton–just a negro cabin here and there by the wayside
with quiet, home-loving negroes in their Sunday clothes sitting on their small
porches and children playing in the yards–no other signs of human life.
We were told some of the legends of the country of the old families,
and of the old burying ground but we were not prepared for the arresting beauty
of the place and the feeling of peace and serenity that we sensed immediately.
The little cemetery is no larger than a city block, enclosed with a heavy
wrought iron fence that antedates the Civil War; the sward was as green and
smooth as a city lawn, kept in perfect condition from year to year through
contributions from the descendants of those buried there. The care of the old
burying ground is lovingly supervised by Mrs. Annie Prichard Coulter and Leon
Pace.
Bees droned, mocking birds trilled their love songs, the air was cool
with the tinge of autumn and the sunlight, flitting through the age old trees,
rested caressingly on one grave, then another. Surrounding it on three sides is
a dense growth of gnarled cedar trees and giant oaks, casting a protecting
shade and standing like rugged sentinels keeping watch o’er the dead.
Large bushes of Cape Jessamines higher than one’s head with intertwined
branches forming a trunk larger than a man’s body were here, there and
everywhere and in season the perfume from their waxen blooms fills the nearby
countryside. Roses, scarlet, pink and creamy white bloomed in profusion and
wild honeysuckle, clambering over the fence in numbers of places lent its
perfume.
The sense of peace, serenity and beauty was deeply impressive. . .
removed from the sound of traffic, with only the wind sighing gently through
the old trees, and the songs of mockingbirds.
Many of the graves was there since the 1700's. Costly marble slabs are
deeply carved with names and inscriptions that give an insight into the family
life, wealth and culture of the time. There are some graves, noticeably of
small children, with heavy iron, vault-like coverings, of an earlier period. A
number of Confederate soldiers are buried on a gentle slope under the old
trees, fighting together in life, sleeping together in death.
As we wondered in and out among the graves, we noted the names of men
and women, prominent in the history of that section of Mississippi in other
days:
The Boyles family, Magruders, Prichards, Hollidays, Soffs, Allens and
Wiggins, the last four (parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents of Mrs
John Sharp of Jackson), Coulters, Colemans, Paces, Divines, Baldwins,
O’Leary’s, Turners, and others. Some of these have been brought from far away
lands in recent years to sleep besides their loved ones.
Only one grave differed from the others. In a far off corner, all
alone, covered with a slab of costly marble, stained by the weather of a
hundred years, is the grave of a young girl, with the outpouring of some
tortured heart carved deep into the marble, and still perfectly legible. A
solitary rose bush with white blossoms stood near the head. On the slab is
carved:
“Here repose the mortal remains of
SARAH N. BURNS
She was born April 15, 1832 and died September 23, 1847.
Her career on earth was short. She was the child of affliction. The
protracted illness from which she died was caused by the mismanagement and
officious interference of pretended friends, but she passed triumphantly away
and her last words were, “Come, Lord Jesus and take me home.”
“The beauty of the leaf is gone
The beauty of the flower is risen
The birds to other climes have flown
And there’s an angel more in Heaven.”
Additional Comments:
This wonderful article has been re-typed just as it was printed. We proofed it
before sending it. I am sorry I don't know which newspaper it came from as this
article has been handed down through several generations.
I have a copy of the original, but it contains no date or identification, and I
just guessed at the year.
Dorothy
Dorothy Winters [email protected] August 25, 2008, 6:11 pm
Some Newspaper Based In Mississippi 1943
Pages From An Old Scrap Book
by Anabel Power
THE OLD SHARON CEMETERY
One Sunday afternoon last autumn we drove with a party of friends to
rural Sharon, the original county seat of Madison county, to see the beautiful
old cemetery about which we had heard so often. Sharon is seven miles east of
Canton, the present county seat. It was once a community of wealthy, cultured
plantation owners whose homes and ancestral acres were the pride of that
section before the Civil War, where slaves tended the homes, helped “raise” the
children and made the cotton that was the chief source of the great wealth of
that period. Their Sharon Male College and Female College boasted the best in
education facilities that the country could provide.
Now it is a small inland community with but a few of the descendants of
the original families but those are typical of the traditions and culture of
the old South and form a group of friendly neighbors with common interests.
Their greatest common interest is the care of the old graveyard in the heart of
the village where for more than a hundred years their forefathers have been
buried. Visitors come from far and near to see this beauty spot in our
southland.
There was a stillness in the air that Sunday afternoon as we drove the
short distance from Canton–just a negro cabin here and there by the wayside
with quiet, home-loving negroes in their Sunday clothes sitting on their small
porches and children playing in the yards–no other signs of human life.
We were told some of the legends of the country of the old families,
and of the old burying ground but we were not prepared for the arresting beauty
of the place and the feeling of peace and serenity that we sensed immediately.
The little cemetery is no larger than a city block, enclosed with a heavy
wrought iron fence that antedates the Civil War; the sward was as green and
smooth as a city lawn, kept in perfect condition from year to year through
contributions from the descendants of those buried there. The care of the old
burying ground is lovingly supervised by Mrs. Annie Prichard Coulter and Leon
Pace.
Bees droned, mocking birds trilled their love songs, the air was cool
with the tinge of autumn and the sunlight, flitting through the age old trees,
rested caressingly on one grave, then another. Surrounding it on three sides is
a dense growth of gnarled cedar trees and giant oaks, casting a protecting
shade and standing like rugged sentinels keeping watch o’er the dead.
Large bushes of Cape Jessamines higher than one’s head with intertwined
branches forming a trunk larger than a man’s body were here, there and
everywhere and in season the perfume from their waxen blooms fills the nearby
countryside. Roses, scarlet, pink and creamy white bloomed in profusion and
wild honeysuckle, clambering over the fence in numbers of places lent its
perfume.
The sense of peace, serenity and beauty was deeply impressive. . .
removed from the sound of traffic, with only the wind sighing gently through
the old trees, and the songs of mockingbirds.
Many of the graves was there since the 1700's. Costly marble slabs are
deeply carved with names and inscriptions that give an insight into the family
life, wealth and culture of the time. There are some graves, noticeably of
small children, with heavy iron, vault-like coverings, of an earlier period. A
number of Confederate soldiers are buried on a gentle slope under the old
trees, fighting together in life, sleeping together in death.
As we wondered in and out among the graves, we noted the names of men
and women, prominent in the history of that section of Mississippi in other
days:
The Boyles family, Magruders, Prichards, Hollidays, Soffs, Allens and
Wiggins, the last four (parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents of Mrs
John Sharp of Jackson), Coulters, Colemans, Paces, Divines, Baldwins,
O’Leary’s, Turners, and others. Some of these have been brought from far away
lands in recent years to sleep besides their loved ones.
Only one grave differed from the others. In a far off corner, all
alone, covered with a slab of costly marble, stained by the weather of a
hundred years, is the grave of a young girl, with the outpouring of some
tortured heart carved deep into the marble, and still perfectly legible. A
solitary rose bush with white blossoms stood near the head. On the slab is
carved:
“Here repose the mortal remains of
SARAH N. BURNS
She was born April 15, 1832 and died September 23, 1847.
Her career on earth was short. She was the child of affliction. The
protracted illness from which she died was caused by the mismanagement and
officious interference of pretended friends, but she passed triumphantly away
and her last words were, “Come, Lord Jesus and take me home.”
“The beauty of the leaf is gone
The beauty of the flower is risen
The birds to other climes have flown
And there’s an angel more in Heaven.”
Additional Comments:
This wonderful article has been re-typed just as it was printed. We proofed it
before sending it. I am sorry I don't know which newspaper it came from as this
article has been handed down through several generations.
I have a copy of the original, but it contains no date or identification, and I
just guessed at the year.
Dorothy
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