FULLER LOT. THE following and other Inscriptions are on the Monuments in the FULLER LOT, in Pyrola Path : IN MEMORY OF MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI, BORN IN CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, MAY 23, 1810. 66 By birth a child of New England, by adoption a citizen of Rome, by genius belonging to the world. In youth an insatiate student, seeking the highest culture. In riper years Teacher, Writer, Critic of Literature and Art. In maturer age, companion and helper of many earnest reformers in America and Europe. "And of her husband, Giovanni Angelo, Marquis Ossoli; he gave up rank, station, and -home, for the Roman Republic, and for his wife and child. "And of that child, Angelo Phillip Ossoli, born in Rieti, Italy, Sept. 5th, 1848, whose dust reposes at the foot of this stone. They passed from this life together by shipwreck, July 19, 1850. United in life by mutual love, labors and trials, the Merciful Father took them together, 'and in death they were not divided.'' ENGLISH CEMETERIES. ABRIDGED FROM "GOD'S ACRE." BY MRS. STONE. "EARTH to earth and dust to dust!". Here the youthful and the old, Here the sword and sceptre rust "Earth to earth and dust to dust." It may be a fancy, but surely it is akin both to nature and reason, that the environs of the places solemnly dedicated ages ago to God's worship, hallowed by the prayers of succeeding generations for centuries past, where the air is redolent with the breath of prayer offered up by pious Christians now sleeping the sleep of the righteous below; where, perchance, we ourselves were admitted into the Holy Communion of Christ's flock, and where we have seen probably some of those nearest and dearest to us laid in their last narrow house; where, it may be, their spirits are still hovering around; surely, it is most natural, most reasonable, most pious, that there we should wish to repose too. For it is difficult to understand the feelings of indifference with which some, sincerely good people too, declaim on the worthlessness of the body, and their carelessness of what becomes of it. "What matters," say they, "this old vile garment, these rags?" Oh, much, very much. For are we not told it shall rise again? This contemptuous indifference is very far removed from a Christian repudiation of pomp and finery. Persons who are indifferent as to the usage of their mortal remains, contemptuous as to its present destination, or callous as to its surgical dismemberment, must quite forget St. Paul's sublime exposition of the doctrine of the resurrection of the body. Such indifference is at least more philosophical than natural or religious. For they are not dead. No, oh, no. We are sure of that. The calm, silent, lifeless frame on which we look, shall surely rise again, " clothed and in his right mind." Clothed with immortality, robed in inexpressible beauty, fraught with an angel's mind. Yes, this body, waiting, sleeping, changed, this human chrysalis shall waken, and soar on radiant wing to that empyreum, whence its immortal spirit first emanated. Far more consonant with the best feelings of our nature is the impulse which causes parents to lay their lost children in one grave; or children to implore to be interred with their departed parents; or the unforgetting widow to pray that she may be carried to the grave of her husband, buried fifty years before, and far away from the spot where destiny had fixed her in later life. The observation of Edmund Burke, on his first visit to Westminster Abbey, has been recorded: "I would rather sleep in the southern corner of a country churchyard, than in the tomb of the Capulets. I should like, however, that my dust should mingle with kindred dust; the good old expression family buryingground' has something pleasing in it, at least to me." 6 When, in early times, it was forbidden to inter two bodies in one grave, exception was always made in the case of husband and wife, the most touching and reverent acknowledgment of the sanctity of the marriage tie that it is possible to conceive. We have Scripture testimony to show that this solicitude about a burying place is not only natural, but pious and holy. On the death of the patriarch Jacob, his most dearly loved son Joseph thus spoke to Pharaoh : "My father made me swear, saying, — Lo, I die. In my grave, which I have digged for me in the land of Canaan, there shalt thou bury me. Now, therefore, let me go up, I pray thee, and bury my father, and I will come again. "And Pharaoh said, — Go up, and bury thy father, according as he made thee swear. "And Joseph went up to bury his father, and with him went all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt." The foregoing remarks were in part suggested by a visit which I made to one of the most favorite and fashionable of English cemeteries. I was not previously acquainted with the neighborhood; but I soon tained my near approach to the spot, by the number of stone-mason's yards which I passed, decked with urns, tablets, and other funereal sculptures. ascer I entered the cemetery: a more beautiful and luxurious garden it is impossible to conceive. The season was autumn, and every path was radiant with dahlias, fuschias, verbenas, heliotropes, salvias, lobelias, geraniums, monthly roses, and a multitude of other flowers, in the richest bloom. Such fine African and French marigolds I never saw, though I thought them in very bad taste there. In some country churchyards, where the custom of planting flowers is most rife, no kinds are thought of that are not sweet-scented. Merely beautiful looking flowers are never admitted, though it is said these are sometimes planted by stealth, as a sort of satire, on the grave of an unpopular person! But on the graves of beloved ones, the homely, sweetscented rosemary, emblem of remembrance, the aconite, the snowdrop, the violet, and lily of the valley; and the rose-ever the rose-type always of purity, affection, goodness; these are suitable to churchyard or cemetery. These, and the humble, unshowy, fragrant mignionette, had been in far better taste than the flaunting flowers to which I have referred. The beautiful laurustinus, flowering as it does (in England) the winter through, and the arbutus, with its gorgeous fruit, gleamed at frequent intervals, forming a beautiful relief to the gloomy cypress and dismal yew. It is no unusual mistake in churchyards, as well as in modern cemeteries, to plant these latter shrubs so thickly at the head and foot, for instance, of graves placed closely together that they cannot possibly have room to grow; and the effect of regular regimental rows of evergreens, dwarfed and crippled like stunted shrubs, is rather ludicrous, than solemn or touching. I had not proceeded far ere I came to a placard within the grounds, noting that — 66 the Company undertake to turf and plant graves, and to maintain and keep them in order, on the following terms: are not It is a pity all the "proprietors of graves acquainted with, or are not inclined to avail themselves of this notification. Some of the graves are in a sad and disreputable state of disorder. The clematis, planted by friends under the first impulse of grief, is trailing |