192 TEXAS AND ARIZONA 



beyond all calculation, and though I pursued 

 them with cautious haste for some distance, I 

 could never come up with them. Wherever I 

 looked, there was nothing but white-crowned 

 sparrows ; handsome birds, the sight of which is 

 almost an event in Massachusetts, but so abun- 

 dant in Texas at this time of the year as Lin- 

 coln finches are, also that I have begun to 

 turn away from them as almost a nuisance. It 

 becomes vexatious to a man in search of novel- 

 ties when even an old favorite keeps itself too 

 persistently under his glass. As the proverb has 

 it, there is reason in all things. 



While I was beating the chaparral over, still 

 in search of those missing white wing-patches, I 

 noticed a funeral procession coming from the 

 city. Heading the cortege was what in a Massa- 

 chusetts town would be called a " depot carriage." 

 It served the purpose of a hearse, I suppose, and 

 in it sat two men bareheaded. It seemed a neigh- 

 borly and Christian act to accompany a brother 

 mortal to the grave in this fraternal manner. 

 The second carriage was an open buggy, drawn 

 by a white horse. 



These things I took note of while the proces- 

 sion was still a long way off (a military band, 

 still farther away, at the barracks, no doubt, 

 was playing a march), and meantime I went up 



