A FUNERAL PROCESSION. 



421 



his robes, and, looking in, as he usually did, said, 

 "Voyabuscarunmuerto," "I am going for a corpse." 

 The platform of the church was the campo santo ; 

 every day the grave-digger was at his work, and 

 soon after the padrecito left us we heard the chant 

 heralding the funeral procession. I went out, and 

 saw it coming up the steps, the padrecito leading 

 it and chanting the funeral service. The corpse 

 was brought into the church, and, the service over, 

 it was borne to the grave. The sacristans were so 

 intoxicated that they let it fall in with its neck 

 twisted. The padrecito sprinkled it with holy wa- 

 ter, and, the chant over, went away. The Indians 

 around the grave looked at me with an expression 

 of face I could not understand. They had told the 

 padrecito that we had brought death into the vil- 

 lage. In a spirit of conciliation I smiled at a wom- 

 an near me, and she answered with a laugh. I 

 carried my smile slowly around the whole circle ; 

 as my eyes met theirs, all burst into a laugh, and 

 while the body lay uncovered and distorted in the 

 grave I went away. With these people death is 

 merely one of the accidents of life. "Voyadescan- 

 sar," "I am going to rest," "Mis trabajos son acaba- 

 dos," " My labours are ended," are the words of the 

 Indian as he lies down to die ; but to the stranger 

 in that country death is the king of terrors. 



In the mean time pleasure was treading lightly 

 upon the heels of death. The fiesta of Santo Cris-> 

 to del Amor was still going on, and it was to con- 



36 



