zeal, and perhaps not without
something of the prejudice which ranked all Jeffersonians with French
fatalists and infidels. On horseback one day Mr. Cleveland was riding
from Middletown to Durham; a little stream bounded the limits of the
townships. He halted to water his horse; meanwhile a young man, having
come from the opposite direction, drew rein so suddenly in the midst of
the brook as to render the water unfit to drink.

"Good-morning, Mr. Minister," said the youth.

"Good-morning, Mr. Democrat," replied the reverend gentleman.

"And pray why do you take me for a Democrat?" queried the young man.

"Pray why did you take me for a minister?" rejoined Mr. Cleveland.

"Oh," said the fellow, "that is plain enough--by your _dress_."

"And that you are a Democrat is plain enough by your _address_," was the
retort of the preacher.

Mr. Cleveland was buried in New Haven, Conn., where he died suddenly,
while paying a visit to friends in that city. He lies in the "New Haven
City Burial Ground," the first cemetery in this country that was divided
into family lots. The plot in which Mr. Cleveland was interred was at
that time owned by Edmund French. Recently it was resold to William
Franklin, a proviso of the transfer being that all previous interments
should forever remain undisturbed. Two massive stones, of veinless white
marble, mark the head and the foot of the scarcely perceptible mound.
They are low and unpretentious. The larger is about two feet in height;
the smaller is proportionally less tall. Erected but a short time ago,
it is said that President Cleveland ordered them that he might mark the
last earthly resting-place of his great-grandfather. The inscription
reads:

REV. AARON CLEVELAND
SON OF
REV. AARON CLEVELAND

BORN IN HADDAM FEB'Y 3. 1744
DIED IN NEW HAVEN SEPT. 21. 1815

A much loved, and respected, and stainless name is the inheritance that
this man has left to his descendants.

_THE SOLDIERS' DAY AT SHILOH._

The wives and little ones at home who knelt one Sabbath morn,
And prayed for God to save our land, with battles rent and torn,
How little knew the quick reply, while yet they bent the knee,
In Shiloh's fierce and stubborn strife beside the Tennessee!
Oh, may they never cease to pray for our dear nation's good.
Till wrong no more shall lift a hand to claim the price of blood!
For heavy was the debt we paid in noble blood and true,
When Slavery cast th