240 COLLECTOR'S RAMBLES 



children were very quiet, and seldom cried ; but there 

 was one noted exception to this rule : nearly every 

 night the inhabitants of the whole village were awak- 

 ened by the shrieks of a child. Her mother was very 

 patient, and I used to hear her say, "Bidica, bidica ! 

 Coyara aria yargima, lass. De avier kikini de yaba 

 yaba momonarty. Negato de ellegim vany momo. Ne- 

 gato de aneane momo. Yaba yaba lass" In other 

 words, " Goodness gracious ! Coyara men cannot 

 sleep. You are a small child, but you cry very loud. 

 To-morrow, you will see the sun. To-morrow, you 

 will have plenty to eat. Don't cry." 



There was one death in the village while we were 

 there, and we had a chance to witness their funeral 

 ceremony. The corpse, that of a little girl, was laid 

 upon a leaf mat on the ground ; and the mother, her 

 body smeared with a mixture of charcoal and grease, 

 making her as black as a well-polished stove, sat upon 

 the ground in front of it, and sang and wept a great 

 part of the day. At evening, a small group of men 

 and women gathered about the place, and sang several 

 songs, in which the child was spoken of as a good little 

 girl who helped her mother, and was kind to her play- 

 mates. After darkness had gathered about the village, 

 the procession started ; and, with torches to light the 

 way, carried the body to the burial-ground on the oppo- 

 site side of the valley. 



When they returned, I questioned Lohier about his 



