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ing that she was too good a servant to be discharged, resolved to form a company of their own, and take her into their service. A good specimen of a "double-decker" engine is seen in the reproduction of the Southwark Engine, No. 38, which was the first machine of the kind in use in New York city.

IX.

A few months ago-or, to be precise, on the 18th of June, 1880-there appeared in the New York Evening Post a short letter, signed "C. J.," which began as follows: "Over in Green wood there is a stately monument to the New York fireman who lost his life in saving a child. It is the only one in that city of the dead before which I take off my hat." I do not know the name of the writer, but his sentiments

| are chivalrous. The occasion of the first purchase of lots in Greenwood Cemetery for the burial of firemen was the gallant deaths of Engineer George Kerr and Assistant-Foreman Henry Fargis, of the Southwark Engine Company, No. 38, at the fire in Duane Street, New York, on the 2d of April, 1848. These sad events made a deep impression upon the hearts of New York firemen, and led them to a resolution to honor in an especial manner the memory of their brave associates. A committee, consisting of Cornelius V. Anderson, George A. Buckingham, Lawrence Turnure, George W. Littell, John K. Bowen, Warren Bliven, James W. Barker, Furman Neefus, John A. Cregier, and Charles McDougall, was intrusted with the business on the 2d of May, 1848.

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These old firemen entered (to quote their | now well known to so many thousands of own words) upon "the performance of Americans and foreigners-" which for the duties assigned them with a melan- its natural scenery, commanding view of choly pleasure--melancholy in the recol- the bay and surrounding country, can lection of the events which prompted this not be surpassed." So, at all events, they movement on your [the Fire Depart-reported to the Fire Department, and probment's] part, but, at the same time, pleasant in the reflection that though dead in body, the virtues and excellency of character of your late associates still live in your memory, and that the remembrance of them will thus be perpetuated to your

ably their judgment will not be questioned by anybody who has seen the beautiful place on Summit Avenue, in the southern part of that fair city of the dead.

The ground being secured, a magnificent monument, designed and built by

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inches high-the statue of a fireman in the act of saving a child from the flames. The shaft consists of three plain blocks, relieved by festoons of oak leaves-the emblem of strength and endurance. The pedestal is of notable design. Its base block bears the coat of arms of the city of New York, whose firemen are to be commemorated; its pilasters are adorned with tastefully grouped hydrants, hose, hooks, and ladders, the hose companies as well as the engine companies having a share in the memorial work. Above the cornice a fireman's cap and two speakingtrumpets repose on a cushion. The wreath of oak leaves that surrounds the cap is the historic emblem that the wearer has saved a citizen's life. Firemen's torches, ornamented with leaves of water plants, rise from each corner of the cornice. The gen eral effect of the structure is exceedingly impressive.

The

This is the Firemen's Monument, and on its right the engineers of the Department have erected a special memorial in honor of their late associate George Kerr, while on its left rises a similar tribute to the memory of Henry Fargis, reared by the company of which he was a member. With characteristic generosity the deed of the lot on which the Kerr monument stands was made out in the name of a representative of his family, a similar course being pursued in the case of the Fargis monument. The entire ground is inclosed by a substantial and choice iron railing, the pedestals for which represent hydrants surmounted by an urn. gate, also of iron, is composed of hosepipes crossed by a hook, a ladder, a torch, an axe, a trumpet, and a tormentor-all of them firemen's instruments-bound together by a length of hose, and encircled by a laurel wreath. Over the gate is a scroll inscribed with the words, "New York Fire Department, incorporated A.D. 1798," and above the scroll is a bell. The cost of the railing and gate was $982 75. The entire cost of the monument and its inclosure was $4316 46, every cent of which was paid by New York volunteer firemen. Peaceful and honored has been the sleep of the brave men who lie beneath the sward of that lovely place. On the 12th of June, 1849, the bodies of Engineer Kerr and Assistant Foreman Fargis were laid there, and it was the intention to do

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the same with the bodies of all New York firemen who had been killed in the discharge of their duties; but it is a curious fact that when search was made for their graves in various burial-grounds, it was found impossible to identify them, except in two instances, namely, those of Messrs. Underhill and Ward (the story of their death has already been told), whose friends were unwilling to have the removal made unless the monuments already erected over their graves were transferred to the plot in Greenwood. This the committee could not consent to do, and the whole plan was abandoned.

Messrs. Kerr and Fargis, it may be added, were killed by the falling of a wall. Chief Engineer Anderson, in a communication to the Common Council of the city of New York a few days after the fire, eulogized his dead associates in the warmest terms.

Several attempts, in addition to the first one, were made to have the bodies of Underhill and Ward removed to Greenwood Cemetery, but the disinclination of the Trustees of the Exempt Firemen's Benevolent Fund, who have control of the firemen's plot and monument, to allow the erection of any obstruction to the view, or any unsightliness, prevented the success of the efforts. The trustees persisted in their refusal to permit the monuments now standing in the Carmine Street cemetery to be transferred to the plot in Greenwood. It is not improbable, however, that when in the course of time the former cemetery shall be converted into building lots, the dust of those two brave men will be brought away and deposited near that of their fellows who died in the same cause. After the erection of the Firemen's Monument in Greenwood it was the custom to bury at its feet the bodies of firemen who fell in the discharge of their duty. For sixteen years, or until the disbandment of the Volunteer Fire Department, the custom continued, broken only occasionally by the desire of friends to bury their dead in the family lot. The slumbers of the sleepers are not disturbed now by the advent of new-comers. Nor will they be. The beautiful spot has received its consecration of human dust, and has entered into history. Its area has never been enlarged, its tenants remain in undisturbed possession, and its turf smiles.

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List! there's a sound of hurrying feet Far down below me in the street. Thank God! the weary night is pastThe morning comes-'tis day at last.

Wake, Rosalie! Awake! arise!
The sun is up, it gilds the skies.

She does not stir. The young sleep sound
As dead men in their graves profound.
Ho, Rosalie! At last? Now haste!
To-day there is no time to waste.
Bring me fresh water. Braid my hair.
Hand me the glass. Once I was fair
As thou art. Now I look so old

It seems my death-knell should be tolled.

Ill? No! (I want no wine.) So pale?
Like a white ghost, so wan and frail?
Well, that's not strange. All night I lay
Waiting and watching for the day.
But-there! I'll drink it; it may make
My cheeks burn brighter for his sake
Who comes to-day. My boy! my boy!
How can I bear the unwonted joy?-
I, who for eight long years have wept
While happier mothers smiling slept;
While others decked their sous first-born
For dance, or fête, or bridal morn;
Or proudly smiled to see them stand
The stateliest pillars of the land!-
For he, so gallant and so gay,
As young and debonair as they,
My beautiful, brave boy, my life,
Went down in the unequal strife!

The right or wrong? Oh, what care I?
The good God judgeth up on high.

And now He gives him back to me!
I-tremble so-I scarce can see.
How full the streets are! I will wait
His coming here beside this gate,
From which I watched him as he went,
Eight years ago, to banishment.

I will sit down. Speak, Rosalie, when
You see a band of stalwart men,

With one fair boy among them-one
With bright hair shining in the sun,
Red, smiling lips, and eager eyes,
Blue as the blue of summer skies.
My boy! my boy! Why come they not?
O Son of God! hast Thou forgot
Thy Mother's agony? Yet she,
Was she not stronger far than we,
We common mothers? Could she know
From her far heights such pain and woe?-
Run farther down the street, and see
If they're not coming, Rosalie.

Mother of Christ! how lag the hours!
What? just beyond the convent towers,
And coming straight this way? O heart,
Be still and strong, and bear thy part,
Thy new part, bravely. Hark! I hear
Above the city's hum the near
Slow tread of marching feet; I see-
Nay, I can not see, Rosalie-

Your eyes are younger. Is he there,
My Antoine, with his sunny hair?
It is like gold; it shines in the sun:
Surely you see it? What? Not one-
Not one bright head? All old, old men,
Gray-haired, gray-bearded, gaunt? Then-

then

He has not come he is ill, or dead!
O God, that I were in thy stead,
My son my son! Who touches me?
-Your pardon, sir. I am not she
For whom you look. Go farther on
Ere yet the daylight shall be gone.

"Mother!" Who calls me "mother"? You?
You are not he-my Antoine. You
Are a gray-bearded man, and he
Is a mere boy. You mistake me
For some one else. I'm sorry, sir.
God bless you! Soon you will find her
For whom you seek. But I-ah, I-
Still must I call and none reply?
You-kiss me? Antoine? O my son!
Thou art mine own, my banished one!

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