, 1877-01-19
Burial Cuytoms.

hnUInQ SOAP OAC IL = DAOP Ab bhC
pbanish town of Bonn, when a funeral
came down the street That particular
csTe of soap-pink it was, and almond
scented-and that particular funeral was
Yer connected in my mind. Even when
tbe last small fragments were slipping
tbrouph my fingers, melting away alto
ether in the diminutive German wash
sng-basin, they recalled to my imagina-
t;on the brown frocked monks, the cross
hearer. the boys white-robed and singing,
ne voices of the priests, and the wreath
~ flowers upon the pail. Pious people
crossed themselves as the train passed
down the middle of the street, where ev-
orvthing made way for it-not that there
Was then, or ever is, much going on in
Rom. or much traffic to be disturbed by
death passing through its midst. Some
one was taking the last journey that day
with BETTING solemnity, and it set me
thinking of others had seen pass along
the same road.
In Italy have met funeral professions
at night, when the streets were quiet and
tbe sound of chanting could be heard
faroff. Ihave seen the hearse with black
nodding plumes, and followed by its
train of mourning coaches, blocked up
bv the crowded traffic of the London
streets-jostled by cabs and omnibuses
death fouted by busy tide of life,
which scarce contents to let it pass. In
a green lane in Ireland. when the hedges
we're bursting into leaf and the birds all
singing, came once upon a party of
peasants, some score Of them, waiting by
the roadside. There were women wear
ING cloaks of dark. blue cloth, young
girls with shawls over their heads, men
IN the long coats so familiar In Ireland.
From the distance, the sound of voices
was heard mingling in a wild musical
strain, and by and by the funeral came
. in sight. The train, already long, was
ioined by those who had been waiting for
Il. and SO one amongst the people took
his last journey away through the lanes
tothe old burying ground Of his fathers.
Not SO striking are village funerals in
England. There is nothing picturesque
about the poor procession following on
foot the cart in which the coffin is placed.
No long train Of friends and neighbors,
no wild strain of music accompanies it
upon the road. The few mourners are
the immediate relatives of the dead. The
neighbors look, perhaps, from their win
aows as the sad group goes by; but they
would not dream OF shortening days
work for the sake Of accompanying one
amongst their number to the grave. The
manner of their starting, too, Jared up
on my feelings the first time chanced
to witness it for, in several instances,
they may be seen to leave their lowly
! houses, mot carried solemnly !" feet fore
most over the familiar threshold, but
pushed abruptly through the window Of
an upper room. Ny own windows COM
nand a view Of a little house, where one
day the close-dfawn blinds spoke of
death. knew the inside Of that room
T so well, in imagination, that, looking
through the drawn blind, pictured to
myself the quiet form upon the bed. I
was thinking tenderly of the days work
done, the patient, homely life ended, the
burden laid down at last, when suddenly
1.-The volunteers were passing at the
moment, / remember, with the band
playing, and pursued by the usual crowd
Of shouting urchins) the window was
thrown open, a long plank thrust out,
one end Of which rested in cart stand
ing at the door below; the coffin appear
ed upon the sill, went with run down
the plank, was dexterously caught by
the carpenter, officiating Just then as un-
dertaker; the family emerged ct the
same moment from the house, formed
two and two without delay, and so they
started. What particularly disturbed me
in this contrivance Of plank and cart was
the fact that my poor friend was one so
extremely unlikely under any circum-
stances to have left her house by the win
dow. A staid, quiet, trouble-worn wo-
man, there was certain startling incon-
gruity in her apparently adopting, after
death, a mode Of egress which would
have scandalized her when alive. Be.
sides was not used to it then. have
seen many such exits since; and, indeed
hardly know what else they could do,
considering the marrow, winding stairs
common in the village. Yet. looking
round upon the many windows visible
from my own, those from which I have
ehAnced 10 see q coffin rattle down into
acart never seem 20 meet my eye with
NE alme friendly glances that the others
DO. Even on bright afternoons, when
ne sunshine Il reflected from the panes,
o. q evening, when = crimson sunset
ms ihem, ior me they weAFa weird look,
look recalling death.
Dlgnined enough waa the last solemn
nlea oi The Northern horoes-the body
l.ced upright upon horseback, and 20
eone INTO thecenire of the mound, whose
nelped-up vail of earth wns closed over
hofne and nan alika. Thoss mounds
nly stiil - seen IN Juilani-out on The
oofa uhere purple heath AMI vild
lyme gr0w and where. on nomo rare
ssc.-.oas. fata Morg-na. vondrous
Slo!d faiIy, may be aurpr.aod By The
la1fly uaninrsr. uhoss ovss he deIiGhfl