Sunday Pastries With the Dead 20
Two circa-mid-1800s cemeteries, one small Pennsylvania town.
Today’s cemetery excursion is an inadvertent two-for-one—after wandering the humble burial ground beside a gorgeous 1842-era stone church, I fired up my map app to see what else was in the area, and found a circa-1873 graveyard just two minutes down the road. The locations bookend a small Pennsylvania town established in 1763, so it felt fitting to feature them together. Read on for the greatest hits of each!
First up is the church—its foundation dates to 1842, its current stone edifice was added in 1868, and its cemetery boasts just 84 memorials (many of them weathered beyond legibility).
I’m a total sucker for the combination of classic Pennsylvania stone and old stained glass windows. Add a bright red door and…swoon.
The oldest burial in the graveyard dates far earlier than the church, to 1809, but the oldest headstone I could read was Samuel Dean’s (above left)—he was a militia unit captain in the Revolutionary War, and died in 1817. Sticking with the military theme, Jacob Funk (above right) was a Civil War soldier and the grandson of the town’s founder. Here’s some interesting information about the personal diaries of one of Jacob’s relatives, Henry S. Funk, who was a publisher, postmaster, banker, served two terms in the State Legislature, and even organized a popular orchestra in the area. He’s buried at the next location, along with many other Funks. They sure ran this town!
The church’s original reverend, Davis Hambright, and his wife Sarah are buried beside each other (above left). And I initially took a photo of Sallie C. Mohn’s headstone (above right) because her middle initial-surname combination made me chuckle (c’mon!), but there’s actually fairly robust information on record for Mrs. Cressman Mohn. Her husband’s name was Benjamin Franklin (more fun name play!) Mohn and she met him while visiting the farm of some relatives in the area; they were married at his grandmother’s house nearby. They had three children—here are photos of the trio. Sallie died of pneumonia at the age of 42; Benjamin died of the same illness just four years later.
And now, on to location two—the cemetery down the street was established in 1873 and over 1,000 locals are interred within.
The most interesting thing about this spot was the prevalence of geometric headstones. I’ve never seen these shapes before—they all date to the 1890s, so perhaps it was a niche design trend at the time.
I took the above left photo because I couldn’t get over the epicness of the name Quintus Hess—turns out, the Hess family outnumbers even the Funks in this place. There are a whopping 42 members buried within! Here’s a photo of Quintus, and let me just say: he looks like he tells a rip-roaring joke and I would like to have a beer with him. His first wife Clara’s marker is pictured here next to the stone of another family member, dear two-month-old Lulu, daughter of Minnie and Stokes Hess (not a boring name among the lot of ‘em!) Is it just me, or do Lulu’s mom and dad look like they’re sharing a private joke? The sparkle in all those Hess eyes—I bet family gatherings were a riot!
Symbol-wise, dear five-month-old Estella Frances took the cake for both beauty (those roses, which represent grace and purity) and pristine preservation. I also enjoyed this weathered-but-still-decipherable dove topper (which stands for innocence, peace, and the Holy Spirit).
There was an abundance of spring crocuses sprouting beside the headstones here—I’ll leave you with a few snaps of their glorious bright purple petals juxtaposed with beautiful old stone. Until next Sunday, fellow taphophiles!