rom Singapore, I had an opportunity
of witnessing the burial of a Chinese in easy circumstances. The
procession passed our house, and in spite of a temperature of 113
degrees Fah., I went with it to the grave, which was three or four
miles distant, and was too much interested in the ceremony to leave
until it was concluded, although it lasted nearly two hours.

At the head of the procession was a priest, and at his side a
Chinese with a lantern two feet high, covered with white cambric.
Then came two musicians, one of whom beat a small drum at intervals,
and the other played the cymbals. These persons were followed by
the coffin, with a servant holding a large open parasol over that
part of it on which the head of the deceased lay. Alongside walked
the eldest son or the nearest male relative, carrying a small white
flag, and with his hair hanging in disorder over his shoulders. The
relations were all dressed in the deepest mourning--that is to say,
entirely in white; the men had even got white caps on, and the women
were so enveloped in white cloths that it was impossible to see so
much as their faces. The friends and attendants, who followed the
coffin in small groups without order or regularity, had all got a
white strip of cambric bound round their head, their waist, or their
arm. As soon as it was remarked that I had joined the procession, a
man who had a quantity of these strips, came up and offered me one,
which I took and bound round my arm.

The coffin, which consisted of the trunk of a large tree, was
covered with a dark-coloured cloth; a few garlands of flowers were
suspended from it, and some rice, tied up in a cloth, was placed
upon it. Four-and-twenty men bore this heavy burden on immense
poles: their behaviour was excessively lively, and every time they
changed, they began quarrelling or laughing among themselves. Nor
did the other personages in the ceremony display either grief or
respect; they ate, drank, smoked, and talked, while some carried
cold tea in small pails for the benefit of such as might be thirsty.
The son alone held himself aloof; he walked, according to custom,
plunged in deep sorrow by the side of the coffin.

On reaching the road that led to the last resting place, the son
threw himself upon the ground, and, covering up his face, sobbed
very audibly. After a little, he got up again and tottered behind
the coffin, so that two men were obliged to support him; he appeared
very