The poor chrysalis, in his lonely grave, Seemed sinking hopeless in oblivion's wave. But lo! what magic bursts the dreary tomb!

What voice angelic bids the sleeper rise! He wakes arrayed in beauty's living bloom, His new-born plumage tinged with rainbow dyes; In air gay floating, while the sunbeam flings A blaze of splendor o'er his glossy wings. Thy emblem this * * * * * Samuel J. Smith.

THE following communication from a valued cor-u respondent, leaves us little choice but to en-deavor to comply with its requisition: -

Office of the Cemetery of Spring Grove, CINCINNATI, March 4,1856.

Dear Sib: You will confer a favor on many readers of the Horticulturist, by publishing in that valuable magazine an article on the "Proper Selection of Inclosures for Lots, and of Trees and Shrubs for planting in Rural Cemeteries." It gives me pleasure to state, that a taste for these laudable improvements is rapidly increasing throughout the West, and, to our Eastern brethren, we look for such instruction in the adornment of cemetery grounds as their judgment, from experience of many years' standing, may be able to afford. Very respectfully, R. Buchanan, President.

To John Jay Smith, Esq., President Laurel Hill Cemetery, Philadelphia.

In the first place, it will be proper to remark, that in the history of a permanent cemetery, a century is but a short period; hence, preparations for its embellishment by the managers as well as the individual owners of lots, should be made on different principles from those usually employed about a house or a garden; and this leads to the further remark, founded upon the transitory nature of man's existence, by which it happens that often in less than twenty years, there is no interested party, unless it be the Cemetery Company itself (which cannot, in all cases, be calculated on), left to care for, keep in order, and cultivate the sacred spot where we have placed our most cherished friends, and where we expect to be deposited ourselves. What folly it is, then, to inclose a lot with poor iron railing, that we know, beforehand, will rust and decay in a very few years, and even sooner if it is not regularly painted; indeed, iron maybe said to rot, when exposed to all the atmospheric influences, just as paper decays; the process is only less rapid.

In looking about us, then, and taking into view the lapse of time, it might be supposed we should employ at least as much care for our slightly more extended prospects of earthly immortality, as the chrysalis does when it wraps its mantle around it, and protects itself with such wonderful care, to guard against a single winter's cold.

As a general rule, all this is neglected, especially by those who inclose lots, with many of whom it cannot have failed to be a cherished hope that they have provided, in perpetuity, for their places of sepulture. Vain hope I in a century from this time, it may not be too much to say, at least a majority of all the so-called "improvements" will be dissolved into their original elements, and, "like the baseless fabric of a vision," be no more. A little reflection will convince any one of this, if we except vaults below ground,, which, being built of brick, and properly constructed, are much more imperishable; we speak of the surface; the parts exposed to the atmosphere, and to public scrutiny.

Of the monuments, it will only be necessary to say, that no limestone (marble) has yet been discovered which is indestructible, or even what might be called enduring. Granite is much more so, but, wherever this is imperfectly jointed, the inexorable tooth of time, aided by moisture, fungi, and frost, must sooner or later be the conqueror in this climate. This is a slower process than that which attacks the iron, and need not, perhaps, detain us; but, wherever metal and stone are united, as they frequently are, rust must discolor, and destruction ensue.

How, then, shall we improve cemetery lots? becomes a very nice and delicate question, which we shall endeavor to answer, with all the lights which we yet possess.

There are two descriptions of rural cemeteries adopted in this country; very different in their general outline, and necessarily differing extremely in their natural and artificial styles. The first is the wooded cemetery; of this kind are Greenwood, at New York, Mount Auburn, near Boston, Green Lawn, Baltimore, and the one over which our correspondent so ably presides, at Cincinnati. They are essentially very extensive, and calculated to accommodate a large population for a long series of years; they are the type with which the rural burial-place became identified in the American mind; with which, in short, our people, the moment they saw Mount Auburn, were not only satisfied, as contradistinguished from the close city graveyard, but gratified. From this truly rural specimen have arisen the many successors we now see distributed around our cities, mostly with good taste.

Of the second, or garden cemetery, Laurel Hill, at Philadelphia, which we have planted and tended, with a sedulous affection, for twenty years, maybe taken as the example. No suitable spot, of very large dimensions, was to be found near our comparatively old city,* and, moreover, till the experiment was tried, it was firmly believed, by thoughtful people, that the habits of the citizens would be opposed to departing from the vicinity of the church; this might have been true, had the churches made proper preparations for a rapidly increasing population; but they neglected to do so, though very often their charges amounted to sums that the bereaved could illy afford to meet. Country accommodation became a necessity from the crowded condition of city receptacles; rural cemeteries were at once established in popular favor in every educated community where the want was felt, no less than where it was not.

In a large rural cemetery, trees offer the first means of improvement, and afford the greatest beauty; they are, if there were but one essential beauty to be studied, the essentia]; fortunately, where ample space exists, there are few trees that are utterly unsuitable, nature having formed but few floral adornments that even the instructed eye utterly disclaims. There is, however, a choice, and we shall proceed to point out what experience has shown are the best. In doing so, we shall first consider those that are to constitute the permanent investments, if we may so speak, and, afterwards, those trees or shrubs which are more suitable to individual lots, inclosed or otherwise.

* The Laurel Hill Company commenced with but twenty acres; this has been gradually extended till the corporation possesses about sixty acres.

A judicious selection and apportionment of evergreens is essential; their partial gloom is favorable to contemplation, and jet they afford a cheerfulness, hi winter, highly agreeable. As in the material of monuments, and in inclosures, we are to provide for the future, to prepare a sylvan shade in which our successors may walk, and ruminate on the deeds and men of a former time, we should suit our plantations to the objects around us, and yet have the eye prominently fixed on what our plantations will become. The landscape gardener is nowhere so much required as in the laying out of a large cemetery. He knows, or ought to know, to what height each tree may be expected to attain; his eye should look with critical judgment, to the future more than the present, in selecting a tree for yonder knoll, or to border the river, stream, and lake. He must also remember his climate, the soil, and what particular trees flourish best in them;

"Or such as, by experience once approv'd, Are found adopted by the climes they lov'd.

All other foreign plants with caution try,

Nor aim at infinite variety".

So says the poet, and yet We highly recommend variety, though an "infinite" variety should be avoided. It is an error, in planting a large cemetery, to employ only the trees that succeed in the immediate neighborhood; even in a well-wooded site, where, to the eye of the citizen, there is shade in abundance, and perhaps to spare, a judicious addition of hardy trees and shrubs, with a foreign air, are of great importance. Thousands of persons who visit Laurel Hill do not define this source of gratification, though they are sensible of something novel and pleasing. Had they been accustomed to the study of foliage, they would at once ascertain that they were surrounded, not only by the beautiful in form, but by the rare; they, perhaps, carry away with them an impression that it is the monuments, and the river, and the general views, that have so struck their minds; but the element of variety in the trees was still one of the charms. We are planting, in this age, for posterity, among whose countless throngs there will be a larger proportion of educated observers than there is now.

These burial places, too, have a permanency of character that no other spots can aspire to, and here the next generations will expect to find examples of well-grown trees from which they can form some ideas of what they should plant themselves, in grounds of their own; the time taken to attain certain heights will here be studied. It is, in fact, as leaders of public taste that we look upon public cemeteries as of much importance. One can form a tolerably correct idea of the neighboring community, by seeing the condition of the best cemetery of a city; the evidences of the cultivation of the people will here be displayed, and judged of accordingly.

We have exhausted the space designed to name the trees that we deem suitable for the purposes requested, and must postpone to another date some further remarks on the subject.