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This Garden of the Dead, (as our poet calls it) is not, however, exclusively usurped, by pom­ pous tombs, and ill-deserved panegyric. Men of worth and genius have also chosen it for their last home; whence variety of rank, for­ tune, and merit, have combined to form a mirror for the contemplation of mankind, where they may learn to imitate the good, and shun the bad. The church yard, in its present state, has become a place of public resort; yet the so­ lemnity of the scene is never invaded by guilty merriment. A sacred stillness prevails. Each follows his own pursuit—he walks among the dead—his soul associates with their spirits. The awful communion pervades his frame, and his mind soars above sublunary things. The hus­ band mourns the loss of a beloved tvife. The mother and children strew sand and flowers over the renewed grave of a husband and fa­ ther. The maid plants a rose on the tomb of her faithful lover, and the citizen of the world gives a tear to those whose virtues, or it