PARK AND CEMETERY. 
23 
mend, and where nearly every feature of the lawn 
plan is carried out to perfection, that inconspicuous 
markers were not chosen; the more so because each 
one bears only a number which would be accom- 
modated as well by small stones set in the ground, 
so that the lawn mowers could run over them. 
And certainly no stones are needed as remind- 
ers of the purpose of those sylvan glades walled by 
evergreens on the abrupt edges of the cut embank- 
ments, and beautifully planted with many varieties 
of trees on the easy slopes; glades where the grassy 
covers spread over the sleepers are almost perpet- 
ually green; where the long shadows seem to follow 
each other even more quietly than elsewhere; and 
where birds and flowers hold undisputed possession. 
All about the enclosure, up hill and down, runs a 
paneled wall of dark red brick, that, while less pict- 
uresque than one of stone or bowlders, is in keep- 
ing with the place and by no means unpicturesque 
with moss patches here, half hidden by a fragrant 
burden of gracefully piled up honeysuckle there, 
somewhere else covered by clinging English Ivy, 
and again embowered in climbing roses — Marechal 
Neil being prominent. 
There are beautiful trees so placed as to 
leave sunny expanses, as well as lovely views 
from the few well placed drives, not only views 
within the grounds but out over the lower hills a- 
cross the wide river. My visit was too brief to make 
more than a cursory round of the grounds so that I 
am unable to give a detailed account of the trees 
and shrubs that were growing luxuriantly. But 
there is a great variety of deciduous trees among 
which I noted China trees that are grown in every 
southern city, often being used as street trees. 
These are in bloom every spring, being filled with 
large clusters of lavender flowers that are succeeded 
OKASS GROWN GRAVES AND LONG SHADOWS. 
by berries that remain on the tree until the next 
flowering season and I don’t know how much long- 
er. Many fine Magnolias (M. Grandiflora) are 
scattered through the enclosure. But my enthus- 
iasm was especially aroused by the uniform excel- 
lence and great beauty of the Red Cedar and Ar- 
borvitse trees that abound. They are used as a wall 
of foliage at the top of banks that have been cut 
down sharply to make roadways up the steep hills, 
also in some other locations. Every tree seems a 
symmetrical specimen, and the effect of the pyramid- 
al Arborvitaes, their mathematical divisions of dark 
green growth etched in regular patterns by the 
bright green of the new growth, and the perfectly 
shaped tall cedars covered with a shower of deli- 
cate silvery blue berries almost from top to bottom 
is a picture not to be forgotten. 
At intervals along the well made, perfectly 
drained roadways bronze tablets are placed which 
bear martial epitaphs, all rhymed, as: 
“The mufifled drum’s sad roll has beat 
The soldier’s last tatoo. 
No more on life’s parade shall meet 
That brave but fallen few.” 
And inside the entrances, as well as near the 
dwelling of the Superintendent, cannon standing 
upright with a ball on the mouth of each, are placed 
as monuments. But neither martial epitaphs nor 
war-like monuments can revive war sentiments in 
the atmosphere that time and taste have created in 
this lovely place. 
The peaceful stretches of grass, shifting shadows 
and noble trees appeal to the eye as the martial em- 
blems do not; and the subtle perfume of flowers is 
more penetrating than dim memories of war. We 
know what it all means — it is right that we should 
recall it — but we feel that noiv there is Peace. The 
very Cedars are decked with a graceful fruitage of 
berries that combine the two hues held dear by 
those who sleep below, for they are beautifully blue 
yet silvered over with a soft gray bloom so that one 
can scarcely say whether they be blue or gray. 
Nature herself has fused the colors, and produced 
something more beautiful than either; something 
symbolic not of the North nor of the South, al- 
though partaking of both, but better than, either 
— an undivided country. 
Fanny Copley Seavey. 
The beadle in a rural district m Perthshire, Scotland, had 
become too feeble to perform his duties as minister’s man and 
gravedigger, and had to get an assistant. The two did not agree 
well, but after a few months Sandy (the beadle) died, and Tarn- 
mas had to perform the last service for his late partner. The 
minister strolled up toTammas while he was giving the finishing 
touches to the grave, and casually remarked; “Have you put 
Sandy weel down, Tammas?” “I have that, sir,” said Tammas, 
very decidedly. “Sandy may get up, but he’ll be among the 
hindmost .” — San Francisco Argonaut . 
