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The study of personal names in all races is a very curious one. Men get their names through some personal accident or peculiarity, often some resemblance to bird, beast, fish or flower. When the famous Bishop Bull died the chaplain of Bishop Sparrow preached his funeral sermon and having an eye to church preferment, concluded his discourse with the aspiration, "Lord, let me live the life of a Sparrow and die the death of a Bull !" In these cemeteries the name of Salomon is often found, it is, of course, the same as Solomon, and one might be named Solomon Salomon or Salomon Solomon indifferently. A final a added to it, as to Isaac or Jacob, makes more of a proper generic name of it.

Here is the tomb of Jonas Salomon, in the Thirty-fourth street Synagogue burying ground; he was a native of Helder, North Holland, and near to him lies another of his line, Israel Salomon, as the Nineteenth street Synagogue is called Sherith Israel, so the Thirty-fourth street Synagogue is called Birenss Jeshurun, as we were told, and below that again is the ground of Temple Emmanuel, New York. All these are private cemeteries and therefore no assistance can be got from guide leaves and cards, as at Greenwood. Moreover, an army of mosquitoes, more terrible than the plagues of Egypt, assailed us the whole morning with such fury that we found little consolation at the tombs of the prophets. Talking of names, however, we found that George Washington or Washington is quite as popular among Hebrew as among Christian families.

We have said that the religious aspirations and texts are often not less suitable for Christian tombs. If Christianity has still a good deal of Judaism in it, the latter has the essence of Christianity; for what is it that the God whom both adore requires of any of us but, as the Hebrew word of inspiration has it, "to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with God?" Christians, especially Catholics, write over the grave of a beloved one, "R.I.P.," "Requiescat in Pace," "May he (or she) rest in peace." The epitaphs, "May his soul rest in peace," "Peace to his soul" and "May he rest in peace" are quite frequent upon Jewish tombstones. To the Jews even the Catholic church is indebted for its ideal of perfect womanhood as embodied in the Virgin Mother and the noble patterns of female devotion and heroism that adorn its calendar. Nowhere are the endearing terms of mother, father, son and daughter more eloquent with the sincerity of family affection than among the Jews. One thinks of the unacknowledged Saviour and Martyr of pure Jewish religion when from the cross He said, "Son, behold thy mother," "Mother, behold thy Son," to His mother Mary and His beloved disciple John, as we read the words of family relationship and affection upon those Hebrew sepulchers. Even the least perfect verses are inspired when they breathe these affections. Thus, to Captain Jonas Phillips Levy, born in Philadelphia, January 14, 1807, died September September 14, 1853, his children raise a costly monument with the inscription:

Speak gently, step softly, our Father lies here;
Bow the head reverently, but check the rising tear,
For he has gone to that bright home above
Called by Him who doth all things in mercy and love;
But fond memories of him will remain with us here
Until we rejoin him in that Heavenly sphere.

Next to this, in the same lot, is the splendid monument to his brother, Commodore Uriah P. Levy, born April 22, 1792; entered the United States Navy, October 2, 1812; died in March, 1862. An eagle with outspread wings surmounts the column, and at the base are a finely carved ship, a man of war, cannon, an anchor, flags, wreaths, etc. Close by him lies his daughter, Frances Lopez, wife of William Lopez, of Spanish Town, Jamaica, her tomb having been erected by him, Commodore Levy, U.S. Navy.

Near by, in this cemetery of the Thirty-fourth Synagogue, is another instance of the repeated name common among the Jews, on the touching monument to a Union soldier, w hose body is not here: "In Memory of Jacob J. Jacobus, First Lieutenant, Washington Artillery, Augusta, Ga., who fell at the battle of Shiloh, Ten., April 6, 1862, aged 32 years." A widowed mother erected  this fine monument and placed on it the inscription:

Cold in the earth my son lies,
Hidden ever from our mortal eyes;
He sleeps not where his ancestors sleep,
Where he died his grave is quite as dark,
Nor his mortal slumbers less profound,
Although no marble decks the mound;
On the last day he shall rise
An angel in the darling skies.

The world is a large place and yet a narrow one. Here is a monument to one Jonah K. King, born in Wurowana, Goslin, near Posen, October 1, 1803; died in Paris, March 6, 1866. Part of the interval he passed no doubt in Brooklyn and New York, or his monument would not be here, containing presumably his body brought from France, as it is not otherwise stated. The epitaph is singular, "May his Soul be Bound in Eternal Life." In common parlance, one speaks of bound "for" a destination, and when "in" is used the condition is usually a state of misery rather than of happiness. "Fast bound in misery and irons, "says the Hebrew Psalmist. "Tied and bound with the chain of our sins, let the pitifulness of Thy great mercy loose us," says the Episcopal Prayer Book. The soul that is "bound in eternal life," however, has still the cords of a man around it yet endures no bondage but the service of perfect freedom. Its feet are not tied nor its wings clipped. "Jerusalem which is above is free," flow appropriate tot he pious Jew whose soul is "bound in eternal life" would be the Christian hymn.

There everlasting Spring abides
And never fading flowers;
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
That heavenly land from ours.

Bright fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand dressed in living green:
So to the Jews fair Canaan stood,
While Jordan rolled between,

Oh could we make our doubts remove,
Those gloomy doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love
With faith's illumined eyes;

Could we but climb where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o'er,
Not Jordan's stream nor death's cold flood
Should fright us from the shore.

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