to of Genoa or
in the Koimeteria of Athens, on Sundays, in the Mezaristans of Skutari
on the Bosphorus and Eyub on the Golden Horn, on Friday afternoons,
and in the Kibroth of old Tiberias by the Sea of Galilee or outside of
the walls of Jerusalem, on Saturday or in the Cimenterios of Mexico
City on fiestas, all testify to the universality of the deep and
tender feelings of reverence and affection which animate the human
heart and make all men as one in thought and sentiment as they stand
on time's shores and follow the receding forms of their kindred and
friends with wishful eyes bedimmed with tears across the Dark River!

While there is a Burial Place for the soldiers who die for their
country or in their country's cause, on the grounds of the Presidio,
the principal cemeteries of San Francisco seem to cluster around
Lone Mountain in the northwestern part of the city and south of the
Military Reservation. These are Laurel Hill, Calvary, Masonic and Odd
Fellows. The Jews have their special burying ground between Eighteenth
and Twentieth streets, and the old Mission cemetery where some of the
early Indian converts and Franciscan Fathers sleep their last sleep,
is close by the Mission Dolores, on the south side.

The group around Lone Mountain is dominated by a conspicuous cross on
the hill top, which, as a sentinel looks down with a benison on the
resting places of the dead, and, in heat and cold, in storm and
sunshine, seems to speak to the heart about Him "Who died, and was
buried, and rose again for us." To this picturesque spot too the
Chinese have been attracted, and they bury their departed west
of Laurel Hill, with all the rites peculiar to the followers of
Confucius.

But what thrilling histories of men from many lands are entombed in
all these tens of thousands of graves, what fond hopes are buried
here, what withered blossoms of life mingle with this consecrated soil
by the waters of the Pacific! Many a one who sought the Golden West in
pursuit of fortune found all too soon his goal here with unfulfilled
desire, while anxious friends and relatives beyond the seas and the
mountains or on the other side of the continent awaited his home
coming for years in vain. Here, indeed, are no rolls of papyrus, no
hieroglyphics, as in Egyptian tombs, to tell us the story of the
past, but it is written in the experiences of the gold seekers, it is
interwoven with the life of the city, now the mistress of the great
ocean