ny women and children coming and going with
watering-pots, so that the flowers never droop for want of care. At the
lower end of the old ground is an open arcade, wherein are some effigies
and busts, and many ancient tablets set into the wall. Beyond this is
the new cemetery, an inclosure surrounded by a high wall of brick, and
on the inside by an arcade. The space within is planted with flowers,
and laid out for the burial of the people; the arcades are devoted to
the occupation of those who can afford costly tombs. Only a small number
of them are yet occupied; there are some good busts and monuments, and
some frescoes on the panels rather more striking for size and color than
for beauty.

Between the two cemeteries is the house for the dead. When I walked
down the long central alle of the old ground, I saw at the farther end,
beyond a fountain, twinkling lights. Coming nearer, I found that they
proceeded from the large windows of a building, which was a part of the
arcade. People were looking in at the windows, going and coming to and
from them continually; and I was prompted by curiosity to look within.
A most unexpected sight met my eye. In a long room, upon elevated biers,
lay people dead: they were so disposed that the faces could be seen; and
there they rested in a solemn repose. Officers in uniform, citizens in
plain dress, matrons and maids in the habits that they wore when living,
or in the white robes of the grave. About most of them were lighted
candles. About all of them were flowers: some were almost covered
with bouquets. There were rows of children, little ones scarce a span
long,--in the white caps and garments of innocence, as if asleep in beds
of flowers. How naturally they all were lying, as if only waiting to be
called! Upon the thumb of every adult was a ring in which a string was
tied that went through a pulley above and communicated with a bell in
the attendant's room. How frightened he would be if the bell should ever
sound, and he should go into that hall of the dead to see who rang! And
yet it is a most wise and humane provision; and many years ago, there
is a tradition, an entombment alive was prevented by it. There are three
rooms in all; and all those who die in Munich must be brought and laid
in one of them, to be seen of all who care to look therein. I suppose
that wealth and rank have some privileges; but it is the law that the
person having been pronounced dead by the physician shall be