neat and clean, and what we should describe in
England as thoroughly comfortable-looking. The streets were all wide
and well-paved; the houses substantial, yet airy; and everything about
them, from the glass in the windows to the brass knockers on the doors,
clean as hands could make them.

The cemetery lies, perhaps, a couple of hundred yards beyond the
outskirts of the town. You ascend to it,--for it occupies the elbow of
a green hill,--by a broad gravel road, cut through the centre of
luxuriant meadows, and shaded on either side by rows of lime-trees.
This conducts you to a gateway, over the arch of which on the outer
side, are inscribed in German, the words "Christ is risen from the
dead;" while the corresponding side within the enclosure bears as its
motto, "And is become the first-fruits of them that slept." And truly
it would be hard to imagine a spot of earth, within which the
enthusiast,--aye, and even the man who, without being an enthusiast,
has ever so slight a tinge of romance in his nature,--would more desire
to sleep out that last slumber.

A sort of oblong square, it is girdled round by a well-trimmed hedge of
limes, from which, at intervals, pollarded trees shoot up; while the
corners are thickly woven each into a shady arbour, where seats are
arranged for the accommodation of the contemplative. It is, however,
after you have passed beneath the arch, that the holy quiet of the spot
strikes you most forcibly. Laid out with singular good taste into
parallelograms, and having the paths which divide them one from
another, shaded by limes, it presents to your gaze no confused heap of
irregular mounds, overgrown with nettles and other noxious weeds, but
well-kept, yet unornamented plains, where, side by side, each covered
by a flat stone,--the record of their births, and death, and nothing
more,--the deceased brothers and the sisters of this singular community
lie at rest. Even here, however, in the grave-yard of a people studious
to preserve, as far as such a thing is possible, the primitive equality
of man with man, some distinction is paid to the ashes of the
great,--not because in their season of mortality these ashes made up a
noble family, but because the family in question have been mighty
benefactors to the sect. In the centre of a wide road which separates
the cemetery into two halves,--and on the right of which the males of
the place are buried, while the portion on the left is devoted
exclusively