in sixteen languages, tells us that 'his great talents and vast
learning were entirely devoted to the exposition and elucidation of the
Word of God;' but to New Yorkers that of the elder brother, Dr. James W.
Alexander, is fraught with the greatest interest, from his having so
lately occupied a prominent place among the first divines and scholars
of our country. It runs thus:

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF

JAMES WADDEL ALEXANDER.

A man of God, thoroughly furnished unto all good works; a learned,
elegant, and accomplished scholar; a faithful, affectionate, and
beloved pastor; an able, eloquent, and successful preacher;
professor of mathematics in the College of New Jersey; professor of
ecclesiastical history in Princeton Theological Seminary; pastor of
the Presbyterian Church, corner of Fifth Avenue and Nineteenth
Street, New York.

Throughout his life and labors, he illustrated those gifts and
graces that exalt humanity and adorn the church of God.

Scattered about the graveyard are many monuments, attractive and
interesting from their artistic beauty alone. One of the most chaste and
elegant designs I have ever seen is the tomb erected by a gentleman of
Philadelphia, to the memory of his wife, son, and daughter, who perished
in the burning of the 'Henry Clay' on the Hudson River. It is in the
form of a casket, of white marble, beautifully carved and of graceful
form, elevated on a pedestal of polished stone, of a blueish tint. On
one end of the casket are inscribed the words

WIFE
DAUGHTER
SON

on the other end,

MOTHER
SISTER
BROTHER

while one side bears the appropriate text of Scripture:--

When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and
through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee;

and the other the comforting words:--

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also
which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.

Under a drooping cypress tree, half hidden amid its dark green foliage,
is a monument of white marble, in the form of a Greek cross, low but
massive, on which there is no epitaph or inscription whatever; but on
the little foot-stone beyond it are the simple words:--

GENEVIEVE.
Died 1851,
Aged 18.

Numerous 'broken rosebuds' mark the graves of children, and the device
is so often repeated as to become tiresome