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weak　little　old　retail　grocer）　had　only　one　idea；　which　was　that　we

all　wanted　tea；　and　he　handed　us　cups　of　tea　all　round；

incessantly；　whether　we　refused　or　not。　　There　was　a　young　nephew

of　Flanders's　present；　to　whom　Flanders；　it　was　rumoured；　had　left

nineteen　guineas。　　He　drank　all　the　tea　that　was　offered　him；　this

nephew　…　amounting；　I　should　say；　to　several　quarts　…　and　ate　as

much　plum…cake　as　he　could　possibly　come　by；　but　he　felt　it　to　be

decent　mourning　that　he　should　now　and　then　stop　in　the　midst　of　a

lump　of　cake；　and　appear　to　forget　that　his　mouth　was　full；　in　the

contemplation　of　his　uncle's　memory。　　I　felt　all　this　to　be　the

fault　of　the　undertaker；　who　was　handing　us　gloves　on　a　tea…tray　as

if　they　were　muffins；　and　tying　us　into　cloaks　（mine　had　to　be

pinned　up　all　round；　it　was　so　long　for　me）；　because　I　knew　that　he

was　making　game。　　So；　when　we　got　out　into　the　streets；　and　I

constantly　disarranged　the　procession　by　tumbling　on　the　people

before　me　because　my　handkerchief　blinded　my　eyes；　and　tripping　up

the　people　behind　me　because　my　cloak　was　so　long；　I　felt　that　we

were　all　making　game。　　I　was　truly　sorry　for　Flanders；　but　I　knew

that　it　was　no　reason　why　we　should　be　trying　（the　women　with　their

heads　in　hoods　like　coal…scuttles　with　the　black　side　outward）　to

keep　step　with　a　man　in　a　scarf；　carrying　a　thing　like　a　mourning

spy…glass；　which　he　was　going　to　open　presently　and　sweep　the

horizon　with。　　I　knew　that　we　should　not　all　have　been　speaking　in

one　particular　key…note　struck　by　the　undertaker；　if　we　had　not

been　making　game。　　Even　in　our　faces　we　were　every　one　of　us　as

like　the　undertaker　as　if　we　had　been　his　own　family；　and　I

perceived　that　this　could　not　have　happened　unless　we　had　been

making　game。　　When　we　returned　to　Sally's；　it　was　all　of　a　piece。

The　continued　impossibility　of　getting　on　without　plum…cake；　the

ceremonious　apparition　of　a　pair　of　decanters　containing　port　and

sherry　and　cork；　Sally's　sister　at　the　tea…table；　clinking　the　best

crockery　and　shaking　her　head　mournfully　every　time　she　looked　down

into　the　teapot；　as　if　it　were　the　tomb；　the　Coat　of　Arms　again；

and　Sally　as　before；　lastly；　the　words　of　consolation　administered

to　Sally　when　it　was　considered　right　that　she　should　'come　round

nicely：'　which　were；　that　the　deceased　had　had　'as　com…for…ta…ble　a

fu…ne…ral　as　comfortable　could　be！'



Other　funerals　have　I　seen　with　grown…up　eyes；　since　that　day；　of

which　the　burden　has　been　the　same　childish　burden。　　Making　game。

Real　affliction；　real　grief　and　solemnity；　have　been　outraged；　and

the　funeral　has　been　'performed。'　　The　waste　for　which　the　funeral

customs　of　many　tribes　of　savages　are　conspicuous；　has　attended

these　civilised　obsequies；　and　once；　and　twice；　have　I　wished　in　my

soul　that　if　the　waste　must　be；　they　would　let　the　undertaker　bury

the　money；　and　let　me　bury　the　friend。



In　France；　upon　the　whole；　these　ceremonies　are　more　sensibly

regulated；　because　they　are　upon　the　whole　less　expensively

regulated。　　I　cannot　say　that　I　have　ever　been　much　edified　by　the

custom　of　tying　a　bib　and　apron　on　the　front　of　the　house　of

mourning；　or　that　I　would　myself　particularly　care　to　be　driven　to

my　grave　in　a　nodding　and　bobbing　car；　like　an　infirm　four…post

bedstead；　by　an　inky　fellow…creature　in　a　cocked…hat。　　But　it　may

be　that　I　am　constitutionally　insensible　to　the　virtues　of　a

cocked…hat。　　In　provincial　France；　the　solemnities　are　sufficiently

hideous；　but　are　few　and　cheap。　　The　friends　and　townsmen　of　the

departed；　in　their　own　dresses　and　not　masquerading　under　the

auspices　of　the　African　Conjurer；　surround　the　hand…bier；　and　often

carry　it。　　It　is　not　considered　indispensable　to　stifle　the

bearers；　or　even　to　elevate　the　burden　on　their　shoulders；

consequently　it　is　easily　taken　up；　and　easily　set　down；　and　is

carried　through　the　streets　without　the　distressing　floundering　and

shuffling　that　we　see　at　home。　　A　dirty　priest　or　two；　and　a

dirtier　acolyte　or　two；　do　not　lend　any　especial　grace　to　the

proceedings；　and　I　regard　with　personal　animosity　the　bassoon；

which　is　blown　at　intervals　by　the　big…legged　priest　（it　is　always

a　big…legged　priest　who　blows　the　bassoon）；　when　his　fellows

combine　in　a　lugubrious　stalwart　drawl。　　But　there　is　far　less　of

the　Conjurer　and　the　Medicine　Man　in　the　business　than　under　like

circumstances　here。　　The　grim　coaches　that　we　reserve　expressly　for

such　shows；　are　non…existent；　if　the　cemetery　be　far　out　of　the

town；　the　coaches　that　are　hired　for　other　purposes　of　life　are

hired　for　this　purpose；　and　although　the　honest　vehicles　make　no

pretence　of　being　overcome；　I　have　never　noticed　that　the　people　in

them　were　the　worse　for　it。　　In　Italy；　the　hooded　Members　of

Confraternities　who　attend　on　funerals；　are　dismal　and　ugly　to　look

upon；　but　the　services　they　render　are　at　least　voluntarily

rendered；　and　impoverish　no　one；　and　cost　nothing。　　Why　should　high

civilisation　and　low　savagery　ever　come　together　on　the　point　of

making　them　a　wantonly　wasteful　and　contemptible　set　of　forms？



Once　I　lost　a　friend　by　death；　who　had　been　troubled　in　his　time　by

the　Medicine　Man　and　the　Conjurer；　and　upon　whose　limited　resources

there　were　abundant　claims。　　The　Conjurer　assured　me　that　I　must

positively　'follow；'　and　both　he　and　the　Medicine　Man　entertained

no　doubt　that　I　must　go　in　a　black　carriage；　and　must　wear

'fittings。'　　I　objected　to　fittings　as　having　nothing　to　do　with　my

friendship；　and　I　objected　to　the　black　carriage　as　being　in　more

senses　than　one　a　job。　　So；　it　came　into　my　mind　to　try　what　would

happen　if　I　quietly　walked；　in　my　own　way；　from　my　own　house　to　my

friend's　burial…place；　and　stood　beside　his　open　grave　in　my　own

dress　and　person；　reverently　listening　to　the　best　of　Services。　　It

satisfied　my　mind；　I　found；　quite　as　well　as　if　I　had　been

disguised　in　a　hired　hatband　and　scarf　both　trailing　to　my　very

heels；　and　as　if　I　had　cost　the　orphan　children；　in　their　greatest

need；　ten　guineas。



Can　any　one　who　ever　beheld　the　stupendous　absurdities　attendant　on

'A　message　from　the　Lords'　in　the　House　of　Commons；　turn　upon　the

Medicine　Man　of　the　poor　Indians？　　Has　he　any　'Medicine'　in　that

dried　skin　pouch　of　his；　so　supremely　ludicrous　as　the　two　Masters

in　Chancery　holding　up　their　black　petticoats　and　butting　their

ridiculous　wigs　at　Mr。　Speaker？　　Yet　there　are　authorities

innumerable　to　tell　me　…　as　there　are　authorities　innumerable　among

the　Indians　to　tell　them　…　that　the　nonsense　is　indispensable；　and

that　its　abrogation　would　involve　most　awful　consequences。　　What

would　any　rational　creature　who　had　never　heard　of　judicial　and

forensic　'fittings；'　think　of　the　Court　of　Common　Pleas　on　the

first　day　of　Term？　　Or　with　what　an　awakened　sense　of　humour　would

LIVINGSTONE'S　account　of　a　similar　scene　be　perused；　if　the　fur　and

red　cloth　and　goats'　hair　and　horse　hair　and　powdered　chalk　and