CHURCH- YARDS AND CEMETERIES 



THE yards of churches, and inclosures known as 

 cemeteries, that have been set aside for the 

 burial of the dead, seem to plead to us for the 

 retention and continuance of all things that will make 

 for quiet dignity and peace and the lingering mainte- 

 nance of tender memories. They seem to ask us, above 

 all, for absolute simplicity pervading everything, so that 

 no single jar may disturb that quiet and brooding of the 

 soul that should dwell, at least for a time, in the minds 

 of men in the presence of the burial ground. In such 

 places, in church-yards particularly, we seem to desire 

 much smooth, soft, green sward, which rests and un- 

 consciously satisfies the eye, so that only a few flowers, 

 and those of modest and unobtrusive kinds, are needed 

 in addition to it. Many shrubs dotted about will, we 

 feel, jar on that sense of dignity and quiet which we 

 naturally expect in God's Acre. 



The trees, for trees there must be for shade, and the 

 feeling of beneficence and protection they suggest, belong 

 on the outskirts of the church-yard, or along the road, 

 and in the park-like reservations of the cemetery. On 

 the boundary line of church-yards and cemeteries may 

 come the fences and walls, or it may well be that the 

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