o pay their tribute of affection and veneration to
her, who was justly called, '_the mother of the poor and distressed_.'
The tomb erected by her children marks the spot where she takes her
'long last sleep.' It bears the simple inscription--

EUGENE ET HORTENSE A JOSEPHINE.

Napoleon, too, paid a parting visit to the residence which he had
preferred to every other. After his unsuccessful attempt to resume the
sovereignty of France, he spent six days at Malmaison to muse over
departed power and happiness, and then left the shores of France for
ever!

FOOTNOTES:

[H] Josephine might afterwards have fulfilled this promise, had not
Madame d'Aiguillon been a divorced wife, which excluded her from holding
any situation about the Empress.

From the London Art Journal.

THE GRAVE OF GRACE AGUILAR.

"Pilgrimages, pilgrimages!" exclaimed a German friend whose family had
been shorn of its "olive branches" by so many hurricanes, that, although
still in the prime of life, his head was bowed and his hair
gray:--"pilgrimages! what is life but a pilgrimage over graves?" The
older we grow, the better we comprehend the force of this sad truth;
life is, indeed, a pilgrimage over graves; but how different are the
ideas and emotions they suggest or excite!

In pent-up cities the graves cluster round ancient churches:
congregations after congregations are pressed into festering earth until
the inclosure becomes a charnel-house; yet they prove how devoutly later
occupants have longed to rest in death with the loved in life. The
nameless mounds are hardly shrouded by broken turf; records, on the
cankering, crumbling head-stones, are almost obliterated; some are
closely bordered and capped by heavy stones, as if rich inheritors
dreaded a resurrection; others there are, where the dock and the nettle
are matted around rusty railings, as though no hand remained that ever
pressed, in friendship or affection, the hand which moulders beneath;
others, again, are marked by broad head-stones, new and well-lettered,
the black on the pure white setting forth a proud array of virtues, of
which the co-mates of the departed never heard; a few dingy and heavy
monuments stand apart, and look down with civic haughtiness on humbler
graves. Repulsive specimens of bad taste are these elaborate monuments
often; in their ornaments so unmeaning, their clumsy dignity so
intrusive, so coarsely ostentatious--the epitaphs so earnest in saying
_by