LETTER XXII. 



MEMORIES OF THE DEAD. 



We now arrive at a group of old elms surrounded by ivy, 

 which, meeting at their tops, form a lofty vaulted canopy, 

 and " forbid the sun to enter." Under this thick shade, how- 

 ever, syringas and honeysuckles flourish; syringas, whose 

 white blossoms partake of the odour of those of the orange ; 

 the honeysuckle has taken possession of such of the trees as 

 have been forgotten by the ivy, and springs up with asto- 

 nishingly rapid growth, sending forth in all directions flowers 

 exhaling one' of the sweetest perfumes. The honeysuckle is 

 a plant that seems to devote itself to the tomb, the most 

 magnificent of them being found in cemeteries. We aU know 

 the effect produced upon the imagination, if not iipon the 

 mind, by the burning of incense in churches, whilst the organ 

 fills the vault of the temple with its powerful voice ; but 

 there is something more religious, more powerful, more solemn, 

 than the harmonious voices of the choristers, or the swelling 



