such a"--National Participled--"sentimental people!"

There was a Cemetery outside the town, and it happened ill for the
reputation of the Vaubanois, in this sentimental connection, that he took
a walk there that same afternoon. To be sure there were some wonderful
things in it (from the Englishman's point of view), and of a certainty in
all Britain you would have found nothing like it. Not to mention the
fanciful flourishes of hearts and crosses in wood and iron, that were
planted all over the place, making it look very like a Firework-ground,
where a most splendid pyrotechnic display might be expected after dark,
there were so many wreaths upon the graves, embroidered, as it might be,
"To my mother," "To my daughter," "To my father," "To my brother," "To my
sister," "To my friend," and those many wreaths were in so many stages of
elaboration and decay, from the wreath of yesterday, all fresh colour and
bright beads, to the wreath of last year, a poor mouldering wisp of
straw! There were so many little gardens and grottos made upon graves,
in so many tastes, with plants and shells and plaster figures and
porcelain pitchers, and so many odds and ends! There were so many
tributes of remembrance hanging up, not to be discriminated by the
closest inspection from little round waiters, whereon were depicted in
glowing lines either a lady or a gentleman with a white
pocket-handkerchief out of all proportion, leaning, in a state of the
most faultless mourning and most profound affliction, on the most
architectural and gorgeous urn! There were so many surviving wives who
had put their names on the tombs of their deceased husbands, with a blank
for the date of their own departure from this weary world; and there were
so many surviving husbands who had rendered the same homage to their
deceased wives; and out of the number there must have been so many who
had long ago married again! In fine, there was so much in the place that
would have seemed more frippery to a stranger, save for the consideration