TOWN OF BUENOS AIRES. 



39 



I went one day to the Recolata, and just as I got 

 there, the little hearse drove up to the gate. The 

 man who had charge of the burial-place received 

 from the driver a ticket, which he read, and put 

 into his pocket ; the driver then got into the tray, 

 and taking out a dead infant of about eight months 

 old, he gave it to the man, who carried it swinging 

 by one of its arms into the square- walled burial- 

 ground, and I followed him. He went to a spot 

 about ten yards from the corner, and then, without 

 putting his foot upon the spade, or at all lifting up 

 the ground, he scratched a place not so deep as the 

 furrow of a plough. While he was doing this, the 

 poor little infant was lying before us on the ground 

 on its back ; it had one eye open, and the other 

 shut ; its face was unwashed, and a small piece of 

 dirty cloth was tied round its middle : the man, as 

 he was talking to me, placed the child in the little 

 furrow, pushed its arms to its side with the spade, 

 and covering it so barely with earth that part of the 

 cloth was still visible, he walked away and left it, 

 I took the spade, and was going to bury the poor 

 child myself, when I recollected that as a stranger 

 I should probably give oiFence, and I therefore 



