Chapter XXIV.
On alighting from the air-boat, a child accosted Aph-Lin in the
hall with a request that he would be present at the funeral
obsequies of a relation who had recently departed from that
nether world.
Now, I had never seen a burial-place or cemetery amongst this
people, and, glad to seize even so melancholy an occasion to
defer an encounter with Zee, I asked Aph-Lin if I might be
permitted to witness with him the interment of his relation;
unless, indeed, it were regarded as one of those sacred
ceremonies to which a stranger to their race might not be
admitted.
"The departure of an An to a happier world," answered my host,
"when, as in the case of my kinsman, he has lived so long in
124this as to have lost pleasure in it, is rather a cheerful
though quiet festival than a sacred ceremony, and you may
accompany me if you will."
Preceded by the child-messenger, we walked up the main street
to a house at some little distance, and, entering the hall,
were conducted to a room on the ground floor, where we found
several persons assembled round a couch on which was laid the
deceased. It was an old man, who had, as I was told, lived
beyond his 130th year. To judge by the calm smile on his
countenance, he had passed away without suffering. One of the
sons, who was now the head of the family, and who seemed in
vigorous middle life, though he was considerably more than
seventy, stepped forward with a cheerful face and told Aph-Lin
"that the day before he died his father had seen in a dream his
departed Gy, and was eager to be reunited to her, and restored
to youth beneath the nearer smile of the All-Good."
While these two were talking, my attention was drawn to a dark
metallic substance at the farther end of the room. It was
about twenty feet in length, narrow in proportion, and all
closed round, save, near the roof, there were small round holes
through which might be seen a red light. From the interior
emanated a rich and sweet perfume; and while I was conjecturing
what purpose this machine was to serve, all the time-pieces in
the town struck the hour with their solemn musical chime; and
as that sound ceased, music of a more joyous character, but
still of a joy subdued and tranquil, rang throughout the
chamber, and from the walls beyond, in a choral peal.
Symphonious with the melody, those in the room lifted their
voices in chant. The words of this hymn were simple. They
expressed no regret, no farewell, but rather a greeting to the
new world whither the deceased had preceded the living.
Indeed, in their language, the funeral hymn is called the
'Birth Song.' Then the corpse, covered by a long cerement, was
tenderly lifted up by six of the nearest kinfolk and borne
towards the dark thing I have described. I pressed forward to
125see what happened. A sliding door or panel at one end was
lifted up- the body deposited within, on a shelf- the door
reclosed- a spring a the side touched- a sudden 'whishing,'
sighing sound heard from within; and lo! at the other end of
the machine the lid fell down, and a small handful of
smouldering dust dropped into a 'patera' placed to receive it.
The son took up the 'patera' and said (in what I understood
afterwards was the usual form of words), "Behold how great is
the Maker! To this little dust He gave form and life and soul.
It needs not this little dust for Him to renew form and life
and soul to the beloved one we shall soon see again."
Each present bowed his head and pressed his hand to his heart.
Then a young female child opened a small door within the wall,
and I perceived, in the recess, shelves on which were placed
many 'paterae' like that which the son held, save that they all
had covers. With such a cover a Gy now approached the son, and
placed it over the cup, on which it closed with a spring. On
the lid were engraven the name of the deceased, and these
words:- "Lent to us" (here the date of birth). "Recalled from
us" (here the date of death).
The closed door shut with a musical sound, and all was over.
