TOWN OF BUENOS AIRES. 



37 



The house which I had near Buenos Aires was 

 not only opposite the Enghsh burying-ground, but 

 on the road to the Recolata, which was the great 

 burying-place for the town; about half-a-dozen 

 funerals passed my window every day, and during 

 the few days I was at Buenos Aires, I scarcely 

 ever rode into the town without meeting one. 



Although the manners, customs, amusements, 

 and fashions of different nations are constantly 

 changing, and are generally different in different 

 climates, yet one would at first expect that so 

 simple an act as that of consigning to its narrow 

 bed the body of a dead man would, in all countries, 

 and in all places, be the same, — but though death 

 is the same, funerals are very different. In the old 

 world, how often does the folly and vanity and vex- 

 ation of spirit in which a man has lived accompany 

 him to the tomb ; and how often are the good feel- 

 ings of the living overpowered by the vain pomp 

 and ostentation which mocks the burial of the 

 dead. In South America, the picture is a very 

 different one, and certainly the way in which the 

 people were buried at Buenos Aires appeared more 

 strange to my eyes than any of the customs of the 



