between rolled smooth and trimmed and swept. There is no outrage in
levelling the ground. The Christian feeling which clings to the grave,
and even to the gravestone, does not attach to the mound of earth
which is wrongly called the grave. This mound is not even a Christian
symbol. It is a mere survival of Paganism, being a small copy of
the barrow or tumulus, of which we have specimens still standing in
various parts of our islands and the Continent, to mark the sepulchres
of prehistoric and possibly savage chieftains. No compunction should
be, and probably none is, suffered when we remove the grave-mounds,
which is indeed the first essential to the protection and
beautification of an obsolete burial-place. But, if possible, let the
churchyard remain a churchyard; for, of all the several methods
which are usually resorted to for "preservation," the best from the
sentimental view is that which keeps the nearest to the first intent.
There can be no disputing that a churchyard is in its true aspect
when it looks like a churchyard, providing it be duly cared for. Some
persons of practical ideas will, however, favour such improvements as
will banish the least elegant features of the place and range the
more sightly ones midst lawns and flowers; while others, still more
thorough, will be satisfied with nothing short of sweeping away all
traces of the graves, and transforming the whole space at one stroke
into a public playground. The choice of systems is in some degree a
question of environment. Wherever open ground is needed for the health
and enjoyment of dwellers in towns, it is now generally conceded that,
with certain reservations and under reasonable conditions, disused
churchyards--especially such as are neglected and deformed--shall in
all possible cases be transferred from the closed ledger of the dead
to the current account of the living.

The following lines, which were written upon the restoration of