oolmaster of the padrecito, who had died but two years
before.

The padrecito handed me another, which said, "I am Bartola Arana: a
Paternoster," &c. This was the skull of a Spanish lady whom he had
known, young and beautiful, but it could not be distinguished from that
of the oldest and ugliest Indian woman. "I am Anizetta Bib," was that
of a pretty young Indian girl whom he had married, and who died but a
year afterward. I took them all up one by one; the padrecito knew them
all; one was young, another old; one rich, another poor; one ugly, and
another beautiful; but here they were all alike. Every skull bore the
name of its owner, and all begged a prayer.

One said, "I am Richard Joseph de la Merced Truxeque and Arana, who
died the twenty-ninth of April of the year 1838, and I am enjoying the
kingdom of God forever." This was the skull of a child, which, dying
without sin, had ascended to heaven, and needed not the prayers of man.

In one corner was a mourning box, painted black, with a white border,
containing the skull of an uncle of the padrecito. On it was written in
Spanish, "In this box is enclosed the skull of Friar Vicente Ortigon,
who died in the village of Cohul in the year 1820. I beseech thee,
pious and charitable reader, to intercede with God for his soul,
repeating an Ave Maria and a Paternoster, that he may be released from
purgatory, if he should be there, and may go to enjoy the kingdom of
heaven. Whoever the reader may be, God will reward his charity. 26th of
July, 1837." The writing bore the name of Juana Hernandez, the mother
of the deceased, an old lady then living in the house of the mother of
the padrecito.

Accustomed as we were to hold sacred the bones of the dead, the
slightest memorial of a departed friend accidentally presented to view
bringing with it a shade of sadness, such an exhibition grated harshly
upon the feelings. I asked the padrecito why these skulls were not
permitted to rest in peace, and he answered, what is perhaps but too
true, that in the grave they are forgotten; but when dug up and placed
in sight with labels on them, they remind the living of their former
existence, of their uncertain state--that their souls may be in
purgatory--and appeal to their friends, as with voices from the grave,
to pray for them, and have masses said for their souls. It is for this
reason, and not from any feeling of wantonness or disrespect, that the
skulls of the dead are thus exposed a