mpanied the sun to the zenith, where at every noon the souls of the
mothers, the Cihuapipilti, received him with dances, music, and flowers,
and bore him company to his western couch.[246-2] Except these,
none--without, it may be, the victims sacrificed to the gods, and this
is doubtful--were deemed worthy of the highest heaven.

A mild and unwarlike tribe of Guatemala, on the other hand, were
persuaded that to die by any other than a natural death was to forfeit
all hope of life hereafter, and therefore left the bodies of the slain
to the beasts and vultures.

The Mexicans had another place of happiness for departed souls, not
promising perpetual life as the home of the sun, but unalloyed pleasure
for a certain term of years. This was Tlalocan, the realm of the god of
rains and waters, the terrestrial paradise, whence flowed all the
rivers of the earth, and all the nourishment of the race. The diseases
of which persons died marked this destination. Such as were drowned, or
struck by lightning, or succumbed to humoral complaints, as dropsies and
leprosy, were by these tokens known to be chosen as the subjects of
Tlaloc. To such, said the natives, "death is the commencement of another
life, it is as waking from a dream, and the soul is no more human but
divine (_teot_)." Therefore they addressed their dying in terms like
these: "Sir, or lady, awake, awake; already does the dawn appear; even
now is the light approaching; already do the birds of yellow plumage
begin their songs to greet thee; already are the gayly-tinted
butterflies flitting around thee."[247-1]

Before proceeding to the more gloomy portion of the subject, to the
destiny of those souls who were not chosen for the better part, I must
advert to a curious coincidence in the religious reveries of many
nations which finds its explanation in the belief that the house of the
sun is the home of the blessed, and proves that this was the first
conception of most natural religions. It is seen in the events and
obstacles of the journey to the happy land. We everywhere hear of a
water which the soul must cross, and an opponent, either a dog or an
evil spirit, which it has to contend with. We are all familiar with the
dog Cerberus (called by Homer simply "the dog"), which disputed the
passage of the river Styx over which the souls must cross; and with the
custom of the vikings, to be buried in a boat so that they might cross
the waters of Ginunga-gap to the inviting s