CU3T0MS AT DEATH.

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yesterday into the deep brown of extreme agc), how regularlythe funereal flower-bed lias l>een visited; — all wonld inducea belief tbat French people had far more tender hearts andlasting memories than our own race.

Nevertlieless, a long residence in the two countries will,we are satisfied, give rise to an opposite opinion; for the verydisplay of grief which originally cheated us into admiration ofthe people indulging in it is sure, ere long, to assume a hideoustheatrical air in our eyes, and thus to produce a violent revul-sion of feeling both for the trick and the tricksters.

" GOD ALONE KNOWS MY SOKKOW."

Such was the inscription on an " ' immortelle" that we saw agentleman in deep black hang upon a broken shaft in theCimetiere Montmartre, with the view of Publishing his griefto the whole world.

What the Great Teacher said of Prayer, may be aptlyapplied to grief. If, as He told us, there is no trust to beput in those who love to pray in public places, so is therelittle truth to be found in those who weep " that they may beseen of men:" for as surely as devout hearts " enter theirclosets and shut the door," in order to offer up their worship" in secret," so do sincere mourners keep their lamentations forthe honest privaey of the same place.

Again, this conversion of the grave into the parterre appearsto our mind to spring from defective faith as to the spiritualessence of our natures, and to be based on a gross material beliefthat the body constitutes the entire being; seeming, indeed,but little removed in its wisdom from the practices of the oldEgyptians, who stinted themselves through lifo in order thattheir carcass might obtain greater glorification after death.

The frippery of the French cemeteries prevails to a greatextent throughout Prussia. In tbe " Friedhof,'" however, the