cohering (as by a miracle) in
the tragic resemblance of a female ape.

So far, Mormon or not, it was a Christian funeral. The well-known
passage had been read from Job, the prayers had been rehearsed, the
grave was filled, the mourners straggled homeward. With a little coarser
grain of covering earth, a little nearer outcry of the sea, a stronger
glare of sunlight on the rude enclosure, and some incongruous colours of
attire, the well-remembered form had been observed.

By rights it should have been otherwise. The mat should have been buried
with its owner; but, the family being poor, it was thriftily reserved
for a fresh service. The widow should have flung herself upon the grave
and raised the voice of official grief, the neighbours have chimed in,
and the narrow isle rung for a space with lamentation. But the widow was
old; perhaps she had forgotten, perhaps never understood, and she played
like a child with leaves and coffin-stretchers. In all ways my guest was
buried with maimed rites. Strange to think that his last conscious
pleasure was the _Casco_ and my feast; strange to think that he had
limped there, an old child, looking for some new good. And the good
thing, rest, had been allotted him.

But though the widow had neglected much, there was one part she must not
utterly neglect. She came away with the dispersing funeral; but the dead
man's mat was left behind upon the grave, and I learned that by set of
sun she must return to sleep there. This vigil is imperative. From
sundown till the rising of the morning star the Paumotuan must hold his
watch above the ashes of his kindred. Many friends, if the dead have
been a man of mark, will keep the watchers company; they will be well
supplied with coverings against the weather; I believe they bring food,
and the rite is persevered in for two weeks. Our poor survivor, if,
indeed, she properly survived, had little to cover, and few to sit with
her; on the night of the funeral a strong squall chased her from her
place of watch; for days the weather held uncertain and outrageous; and
ere seven nights were up she had desisted, and returned to sleep in her
low roof. That she should be at the pains of returning for so short a
visit to a solitary house, that this borderer of the grave should fear a
little wind and a wet blanket, filled me at the time with musings. I
could not say she was indifferent; she was so far beyond me in
experience that the court of my criticism wai