races. How many authors, young and old, and how many literary amateurs and newspaper writers cherish pleasant memories of Mr. Fields's kindness. One of the pleasantest occasions which I associate with his memory is the breakfast which the publishers of the Atlantic Monthly gave to Dr. Holmes, when Mr. Fields read, with exquisite modulations, the tribute to the "Autocrat" which Mr. Whittier sent, but was too shy to read; and among the autographs which I prize most highly is the original copy of that poem, from which Mr. Fields read, and which he afterward gave to me—an autograph which combines threefold associations of unusual interest.
      Other names intimately associated with American literature are to be read on the tablets in Mount Auburn. On Spruce Avenue, in a lot surrounded by an evergreen hedge, and in a grave marked by a small headstone, lies the body of Nathaniel P. Willis. In Eglantine Path, not far distant, is the grave of his sister, better known as "Fanny Fern," the name inscribed on the marble cross, with ferns twined about it, which marks the grave. Robert Bonner, who exploited her in her lifetime for the readers of the New York Ledger, linked his name with hers on this stone, in which doubtless he felt that he had proprietary rights, as he paid for its erection. We therefore have the inscription "A tribute to the memory of a friend by Robert Bonner." What impulse of modesty was it which caused him to omit the words "of the New York Ledger"? Jared Sparks, the historian, and president of Harvard College, is buried on Garden Avenue, near the entrance to the cemetery. President Felton is buried on Bellwort Path, near the grave of Agassiz. Rev. John Murray, the eminent Universalist divine, is buried on Moss Path. John G. Palfrey, the historian of New England, is buried on Sweetbrier Path. The grave of Dr. J. E. Worcester, the lexicographer, is on Aster Path, near Consecration Dell. On Thistle Path is the grave of Mrs. Augustus Hemenway, whose life was crowded with so many noble philanthropies; and near it is Alice Fountain, which she gave in memory of her daughter.
      There are not a few names which are familiar in the world of science. At the corner of Chapel and Central Avenues is the statue in memory of Dr. Nathaniel Bowditch, a bronze figure, seated, a globe and quadrant at the feet, and the right arm resting upon a book. Asa Gray, the beloved professor of botany, is buried on Hemlock Path. On Sumac Path is buried Alvan Clark, maker of the great telescopes. On Spruce Avenue is a striking marble monument, surmounted by a portrait bust, in memory of the inventor, Thomas L. Blanchard. Among other stones which attract attention are the Chickering monument, on Magnolia Avenue, beautifully carved, the work of Thomas Ball; the large prone marble tablet to the memory of Julius Eichberg, on Linden Path, on which is his name enclosed in an oval wreath; the massive granite cross, prone on a granite base, which marks the grave of Governor Emory Washburn, on Spruce Avenue; and the striking and unique Runic cross of red granite, in Hazel Dell, at the grave of Professor Eben N. Horsford.
      I have been tempted to add, for the convenience of visitors to Mount Auburn, a list of routes through these winding paths and avenues, which would lead them to the places of chief interest. But I have purposely forborne. Mount Auburn is not a place to be Baedekerized. The map and the explanatory key, in which the graves of most interest are marked, should be sufficient. It is better that the visitor should wander, as I have done, hardly knowing of precisely what he is in quest, and almost stumbling, now and then, upon a familiar name which invites to delay and meditation, than that he should make his way breathlessly along, intent on seeing the utmost in the minimum of time. The natural attractions of the place, the surprises of dell and lake and fountain, the slopes and terraces, the grateful shade of fine old trees, the varied beauties of grass and flower and foliage,-these, not less than the handiwork of art and the associations of memory, suggest a leisurely and deliberate enjoyment of the impressions which here visit the mind. The effect, if one is in the right mood, is both tranquillizing and inspiring. It is possible, of course, to walk these paths, and to listen to the songs of the birds, and to catch the occasional flash of a squirrel vanishing around a tree, with only gloomy thoughts; and to reflect that not only the path of glory, but every form of human activity and achievement, leads but to the grave. But assuredly, the more inspiring view is also the truer one. The lives, to which private affection or public gratitude has erected these memorials, are ended here; but the very fact that the resting place of the dead is so guarded and beautified, and these very memorials over their graves, attest the common belief that those whom we call dead are really alive forevermore. On every side the eye falls upon some word which conveys this hope. This is the thought which makes these acres of the dead God's acres, and the sleep of these once active and useful lives the sleep which God gives His beloved, to be followed by a happy awakening.