t Savannah, there is no site for a
cemetery in the South, naturally so picturesque and at the same time
solemn, as this. Rising from comparatively level ground in the rear, it
swells and undulates in a series of gentle hills to the river, that
embraces it on three sides. Rows of magnificent old trees in many
places arch quite across the walk--giving, even at midday, a
half-twilight--and the sigh of the river breeze in their tops, mingling
with the constant roar of the rapids, seems to sing a _Te Deum_ for
the dead. The graves are simple and unpretending--only an occasional
column of any prominence rearing itself above the humbler surroundings.

On a hill--just behind the point where the river curves round the
extreme point--rest the ashes of Monroe, enclosed in a large and ornate
mausoleum, where they were laid when escorted south by the New York
Seventh Regiment. That escort was treated with all the generous
hospitality Virginia can so well use; and numerous and deep were the
oaths of amity between the citizen-soldiers. Though the Seventh were
not notoriously deadly, in the war that followed, only the shortest of
memories--or, indeed, the most glowing of patriotism--could have erased
the brother-love, then and there bumpered down!

Under the hills of the cemetery--the dirty, dull canal creeping between
them--stand the buildings, dam and powerful pumps of the water service;
ordinarily more than adequate for all uses. Usually, the water was pure
and clear; but when heavy rains washed the river lands, the "noble
Jeems" rushed by with an unsavory and dingy current, that might have
shamed the yellow Tiber and rivaled the Nile itself. Sometimes the
weary and worn patriot took his whisky and mud, thick enough to demand
a fork; and for days

"The water is muddy and dank
As ever a company pumped."

The outskirts of Richmond are belted by bold crests, near enough,
together to form a chain of natural forts. These were now fortifying;
the son of wealth, the son of Erin and the son of Ham laboring in
perspiration and in peace side by side. Later these forts did good
turn, during cavalry raids, when the city was uncovered and the
garrison but nominal.

Gamble's hill, a pretty but steep slope, cuts the river west of the
bridge. Rising above its curves, from the Capitol view-point, are the
slate-roofed Tredegar Works; their tall chimneys puffing endless black
smoke against the sunshine, which reflects it, a livid green,