the sepulchre closed,--all the requisites of affection and respect
appear to have been fulfilled, and the spot that holds the dust once
so doted upon, is forever abandoned! Witness the damp graves overgrown
with rank nettles and thorns, the degraded tombstones, the illegible
moss-covered epitaphs of our church-yards! Witness the dreary oblivion
of our over-crowded vaults, where the eye of affection has never
shed a tear, the hand of friendship never scattered a flower over
the mouldering relics they inclose! It is not that the dead are
forgotten--it is not that their memory has ceased to be dear and
sacred to their friends--but it is that the gay and the worldly-minded
shrink from the dark images called forth by the aspect of the grave;
they recoil from the idea of familiarizing themselves with the
inevitable spot where they must one day lie in "cold obstruction's
apathy;" they deem it fond folly to nourish grief by keeping before
their eyes that which perpetually reminds them of the loss they have
sustained, and thus they fly from the dwellings of the dead, and
abandon what was once dearest to them to darkness and the worm.

A tenderer and more reverent spirit prevails in the East. There the
Cities of the Dead are the constant resort of the living. The tombs of
friends and kindred are as carefully tended, as regularly visited as
their habitations were while yet they were dwellers upon earth. The
grave of a departed relative is a spot consecrated to sweet and solemn
recollections, where the followers of Mohammed love to meditate and to
pray. In the mausoleum of the Viceroys of Egypt carpets and cushions
are spread around the various tombs it contains, and once in every
week the wives and daughters of the dead repair thither and pass the
greater part of the day in contemplation and self-communion. In the
public cemeteries alms are distributed at the graves of the pious:
even the winged wanderers of the air find refreshment there, for on