There is much taste and sentiment in the monuments in both these beautiful cemeteries; some massive, of gray granite, mingling well with the more varied forms of white marble. Mount Auburn has memorials to Fulton, Channing, and Spurzheim -the latter noble in its simplicity, the name alone in the centre of the tablet being the only epitaph. In the inscription on Channing's monument, one cannot but remark that they have evaded confessing his Unitarian principles, by making mention only of the "Christian community to which he belonged," or a similar expression. Was the rumour then true, that, in his latter days, the apostle of Unitarianism found Christ as a pattern-man inadequate to his soul's necessities? Would that it may have been so!

At Greenwood, the lamb, the dove, the broken bud, the bursting chrysalis, the rising sun, the embraced urn, the veiled mourner, and whatever other emblem grief and faith mingled might suggest to taste, are to be seen. Nothing, however, seemed so very touching as the name alone. The sacred spot is measured out, and encircled by a light iron fence. On the locked gateway the family name is placed in large characters; but within, as each dear member occupies the place, you see on the monument, "Our Emily," "Our Henry," "Our Mother," "Our dear Parents," "Our only Son." If you will know who they are, you must look at the gate, but they who placed them there know well. They were Ours, the spot and the ashes are Ours still. With that perti

nacity indicative of immortality and the resurrection, affection cleaves to the ashes; and many a rose within the rail, and many a bunch of "Forget-menot" planted at the feet, shews that love is stronger than death, and makes its vow of constancy even to the cold clay.

The Firemen's monuments are noble and deservedly conspicuous. The cold marble erected to their memories was their country's only method of expressing its gratitude to them. And above the rest shews the statue of that brave man with the sleeping infant on his arm, to rescue whom he perilled his own life, and-lost it. As a work of art, it is very beautiful; but as a testimony of his people's gratitude, it is sublime. The man who wins the battle, or raises the siege, or secures the peace, receives, of course, his meed of laurels, and "storied urn and monumental bust;" but the man who risks his life to save one poor little infant, who works not for fame nor for fortune, but for humanity, how worthy is he of a statue! It was bravely done! One honours the patriotic spirit that erected it. The same spirit was also shewn in the erection of that other beautiful monument over the grave of the Pilot, who, in saving the ship, was himself drowned.

Having mentioned firemen, it may be as well to remark upon them here.

Fires are more frequent in the United States than elsewhere. "How it comes, let doctors tell." Wooden

houses alone will not account for it-as wood, though combustible, will not burn unless it be kindled. They have, however, become nearly as expert in extinguishing as they seem careless in kindling fires

-so that a stranger learns by and by to hear the startling toll which announces the number of the district where a conflagration is going on, without any unusual beating of heart, even though it be not far off. In Philadelphia, people profess to be more afraid of the damage done by the water than by the fire.

We learned that the firemen had certain immunities, and that their enrolment originated with the Quakers. According to their principles, Friends could not go to war, but, to prove themselves willing to defend the State, they offered to take charge of extinguishing fires, on condition that they should not be liable to serve in the militia. They have other privileges, I believe, such as not being called to sit as jurymen on trials. In return, however, they have no sinecure office. The night without a fire is the exception, and it is not uncommon during winter to have several in one night.

One never saw a more light-built, active set of men, than those of the fire brigades. They wear dresses fit to protect the head, and leave their limber limbs unencumbered; and they have as much pride in the bright brasses and gay painting of their engine, as a sailor has in his ship, or a driver in his team. The first who with his engine reaches the

scene of danger, is captain for the night; and so zealous are they of this honour, that they will remain in a room behind the engine-room, for the purpose of being ready to start on the first ring of

the bell.

That they are courageous, and command often in the midst of danger with a general's eye, all their countrymen know. And that many of them are gentle as well as brave, many a deed of tender consideration for sufferers can testify. One little specimen of this came under my own knowledge, and pleased me greatly.

The house of one of my emigrant countrymen was in flames-the usual amount of agitation, racket, confusion, smoke, and hammering and tearing down, were going forward amid the fire. A young daughter of the family was rushing to a picture on the wall of one of the rooms, when a fireman caught her and said she would peril her life. "Oh! but I must save it-I must. It is the picture of my home in Scotland." "Stand there, then," said the kindly man, and bounding himself over the fallen embers, rescued the treasure, and through the thickening cloud of smoke leapt back to present it to the agitated girl. Here was good-nature, sentiment, and sympathy, mingling with courage in the heat and hurry of the scene. The dear girl shewed me her old home and the Tweed, so familiar and so dear to us both, and told me of this kindly act with sparkling eyes. She never knew her benefactor.

It has been mysteriously hinted that these fire brigades, originating in so honourable and humane a purpose, have been invaded by various evils, and made the tools of infidel encroachments and political intrigue. How much to be lamented, if true, and how desirable that some salutary corrective be applied-some salt cast into the mass to save it from putrefaction!

They are a popular society in every city. Courage dwells with, and protection flows from them. Will not some of the ladies who shower nosegays on their heads when, on the anniversary, their gay procession and glittering engines pass through the streets, devise some method of exhibiting their gratitude which may infuse a moral and elevating leven into the occupation of these men, who watch at midnight for their safety?

At the New York Fair (as they call the annual exhibition of the industry and manufactures of the whole State) the display of all the material engaged in extinguishing fires was extensive, ingenious, and handsome, in a degree to awaken surprise in people who hear of a fire at the interval of months, and scarcely ever see a fire-engine.