, 1877-01-19

with you that you have a child in glory, f"
they say and the last-nay, the first
journey of the sinless babe is trium-
phant march, the funeral a festival, the
music glad. Only the mother weeps.
Strange voyage that of defunct Chi
nese, absent from his home, whose last
wish has been that his body, packed in
a square box, should return to the Flow
cry Land.
In Greece, the last journey follows
quickly upon death. The next day at
dawn, the train of white robed priests
and choristers may be seen winding
along the road towards the church.
There, dressed as in life, and having the
face uncovered, the dead lie at rest be
fore the altar until the moment comes
when they must be committed to the
earth. 1t is in the church that the last
farewell is taken, that the last kisses are
given.
On the whole, am not at all of the
old woman's opinion, who declared she
had rather live forever than have a
walking funeral" Methinks it would be
pleasanter to be borne on the shoulders
Of men who knew us when alive, and
who would carry us tenderly along the
familiar way to our quiet rest in the
churehyard, than to drive there in a
gloomy hearse, followed by gloomy
mourning coaches. Yet, how little 1t
would matter to us! How little it does
matter to real mourners! However es-
thetically considered, the English Gus
tom in the matter of funerals is hardly
one to be admired.
What Of that terrible last journey in
the cold North, where the dying Esqui-
maux is built up in his snew-house, and
left to draw his last breath alone? Or
of the African tribe, who bury the hope
lessly sick before death-hurry them out
of the world altogether? They have
been described as taking an affectionate
leave of their relatives, and performing
this burying with the consent of the per-
son chiefly concerned. Habit is every
thing, and they are used to it; only one
fancies that itmust fall rather hard upon
each individual as it comes to his own
turn.
Marcus Aurelius speaks of life as 4" a
journey in strange land" ; and this, as
well as the last journey of the body to
the tomb, is one common to us all. Hith-
erto, in my freside travels, 1 have fol-
lowed a path trodden only by myself !;
but the way from the cradle to the grave
is road along which each one of us is
passing. And how soon we begin to
look backl Already, from the summit
Of the first hill, the road we have passed
charms as much as that which lies before.
Has any one ever noticed how soon chill
dren begin to say edo you remember ?"
The old plays in the old home, the dali
sizes we first gathered, the old toys, ARE
one and all remembered" True, in
youth the future is delightfully."- dazzling;
but the past also eclipses the present.
In renewed intercourse between friends
once parted, and meeting further on up
on the road, the keynote is still, do
you remember ?" Those lines are sad
where the burden Of the song is only 81
remember" The tie is strong between
those who were fellow-travelers at first
starting. Even when we pass our friend
upon the road, out-strip him quite, and
leave him far behind, as must sometimes
happen, in freside travelling at least we
mayand do live over our old days again,
and spend them once more in his COM
pany. We take up our old self again,
the self to which he was congenial
spirit, and love him as Of old. A real
friendship, even when it lies behind us
as we go on through the "strange land, -
is pleasant way-side mark to look back
I upon.