THE bustling glittering cities of the living stand in such close proximity to the silent but more populous ones of the dead, that this sketch of Manhattan would be quite imperfect, were no mention made of the places where rest the eight generations that have successively peopled the gay metropolis.

The Burial-places of Manhattan were for many years connected with the separate churches, and as late as 1822 there were twenty-two of these church burying-grounds south of the City Hall. In 1794 the Potter's Field was located at the junction of the Greenwich and Albany roads. This was at a later period removed to what is now Washington square, from whence it was removed to Randall's, then to Ward's, and finally to Hart's Island. The negro burying-ground was long at the corner of Broadway and Chambers street, on the site now occupied by A. T. Stewart's wholesale store. In 1729, a Jewish cemetery was laid out near what is now Chatham square. The land was given by a Mr. Willey of London to his three sons, then New York merchants, to be held in trust as a place of burial for the Jewish nation "forever." But so uncertain are the securities of earth, that the place has now long been covered with stores and warehouses. In 1813, all burials below Canal street were prohibited. The plan of erecting marble cemeteries farther up town was now proposed, and two were constructed between Second and Third streets, Bowery, and Second avenue, with 234 and 156 vaults respectively. They were constructed entirely of stone, and calculated to receive a large number of bodies. It was however, soon discovered that this plan must be a failure. In 1842, the plan of rural cemeteries was fully inaugurated by the laying out of Greenwood, which had been incorporated in 1838. In 1847, a general law was enacted by the Legislature, conferring upon voluntary associations the right of establishing rural cemeteries, which was soon followed by the laying out of Cypress Hill, Ever Green, New York Bay, Calvary, and others. In 1842, the Trinity corporation purchased thirty-six acres of ground, on Tenth avenue and One Hundred and Fifty-fifth street, of Mr. Carman, for a cemetery, which is the only one now in use on the island. This cemetery has recently been much injured by the laying out of the Public Drive, which passes through it, ruining many of its vaults, and convincing us that the land should never have been devoted to a cemetery. The grounds are richly shaded and kept in good cultivation. Here sleep the remains of Bishops Wainright and Onderdunk, of Philip Livingston, one of the signers of the Declaration, of Madame Jumel, Aaron Burr's last wife, of Audubon, the renowned naturalist, of John Jacob Astor, and many other distinguished personages. The vault of President Monroe is seen, though his remains were several years since removed to Virginia.

John J. Cisco, of Wall street, and other living capitalists, conscious of coming doom, have here erected granite or marble structures for their last earthly homes. Land has now become very valuable in this locality. The grounds were originally obtained for $14,000, but the corporation has refused $80,000 for the water front simply.

In 1851, an ordinance was passed prohibiting all burials on the island south of Eighty-sixth street, except in private, vaults and cemeteries.