Père-la-chaise, the subject of the beautiful engraving in our present number—engraved for us by J. A. Rolph, of New York—occupies a tract of high and sloping ground to the north-east of Paris. It derives its name from the confessor of Louis XIV., who occupied a splendid mansion on its site—a country-house of the Jesuits for more than one hundred and fifty years. This beautiful burial-ground was consecrated in 1804, and on the 21st of May of that year the first burial took place within its walls. In the _fosses communes_ the poor are gratuitously interred in coffins placed side by side, without ornament or mark of any kind. Temporary graves, to be held for six years, may be procured for fifty francs, and may afterward be retained on five years’ lease by the regular payment of the same sum. If afterward purchased, a deduction of the first payment of fifty francs is made. The ground is purchased in perpetuity at a rate of one hundred and twenty francs per square metre, where vaults may be sunk or monuments erected at the pleasure of the owner. Many of the most celebrated personages of France here repose in the dreamless sleep, amid garlands and flowers. Baron Cuvier, Casimir Périer and Benjamin Constant. Marshals Ney, Suchet, Massena, Lefèvre—Volney rests here, with Talma, Mademoiselle Raucourt, Macdonald, Beaumarchais, and many whose names are imperishable in history. The picturesque monument of Gothic architecture, to the right on entering, contains the ashes of Abelard and Heloisa—this sepulchre was constructed from the ruins of the celebrated Abbey of Paracleet. We rejoice that, in our own country, a wise foresight has already disposed our citizens to set apart at a distance from the busy mart and the thriving town, secluded and beautiful places for the quiet resting-place of the beloved dead. From this pious feeling has sprung our own Laurel-Hill—Mount Auburn, near Boston—Greenwood, near New York, and scores of other places appropriately named and selected in the vicinage of cities and towns of our country—where the monumental pile and the humble tomb bear silent company. The roses embowering these make the whole air fragrant, but, dying in autumn return again with the spring, mute yet eloquent preachers of a Final Resurrection. * * * * * THE SPIRIT OF BEAUTY. BY A. M. PARIS.