DIGGING A GRAVE. 



245 



the deceased came out, apparently to hurry them. 

 He was bare-headed, had long black hair hanging 

 down over his eyes, and, dressed in a clean blae flan- 

 nel shirt, he seemed what he really was, one of the 

 most respectable men on the hacienda. Sitting- 

 down by the side of the grave, he took two sticks 

 which were there for that purpose, with one of which 

 he measured the length, and with the other the 

 breadth. This, to say the least of it, was cool, and 

 the expression of his face was of that stolid and un- 

 bending kind, that no idea could be formed of his 

 feelings ; but it was not too much to suppose that a 

 man in the early prime of life, who had fulfilled well 

 all the duties of his station, must feel some emotion 

 in measuring the grave of one who had been his 

 companion when the labours of the day were over, 

 and who was the mother of his children. 



The grave was not large enough, and he took 

 his seat at the foot, and waited while the Indians 

 enlarged it, from time to time suggesting an improve- 

 ment. In the mean time Doctor Cabot arrived on 

 the ground with his gun, and one of the grave-dig- 

 gers pointed out a flock of parrots flying over. They 

 were too far off to kill, but as the Indians were al- 

 ways astonished at seeing a shot on the wing, and 

 all seemed anxious to have him shoot, he fired, and 

 knocked out some feathers. The Indians laughed, 

 watched the feathers as they fell into the graveyard, 

 and then resumed their work. At length the hus- 

 band again took the sticks, measured the grave, and 



