They were, however, very peculiarly dressed. They generally wore a sun-bonnet, which had a long frill or flounce that hung like a shawl over their shoulders, and carried in their hands little riding whips, which left us at no loss to understand who were the riders of the caparisoned steeds that we had seen in such numbers around this house of mourning. I pressed along through the crowd, and followed the coffin to the house with the hope of witnessing the religious exercises that I supposed would be performed on this occasion. The house consisted principally of one long large room, in a corner of which the corpse was placed. Here also the mourners sat, and the company that were collecting to attend the funeral. The coffin was brought into this room, and placed in front of the corpse, which was clad in the vestments it was to wear in its narrow house. It was immediately in the presence of the mourners, and of this promiscuous company, raised from its position and transferred to the coffin. This being done, the undertaker proceeded to fasten on the lid with the exception of the head-piece, which was separate from the other. The wife, and mother, and family friends, then moved forward, and proceeded to take leave of the unbreathing dead. I never was more struck with the power of human sympathy. At that moment many hardy, sun-burnt, iron-looking faces put on all the expression of deep and overwhelming emotion. Tears ran down cheeks that one would have thought had never been wet with such tender drops before. Even our imperturbable captain, whom we thought proof against all feeling, and almost a perfect impersonation of apathy, wept and sobbed aloud. The coffin was then borne out into a rude open piazza or stoop in front of the house, and there left for some time till the curiosity of every gazer seemed fully glutted. Then again the near relatives came forward and kissed the dead. The widowed wife seemed almost frantic in bestowing the parting tokens of her affection upon the unbreathing body of her deceased companion. I felt obliged to turn away, for I could not endure the sight of her wild frantic manner as she clasped and kissed again and again the cold clay of her husband! This finally had a close. Then after a short pause, a female bearing in her hands a pair of shears, pressed her way through the crowd, and proceeding to the head of the coffin, took off several large locks of hair that rested on the cold forehead of the dead man. The coffin was then immediately closed, and preparation made to move towards the grave. I accosted an elderly lady that stood near me and said-- "Are we to have no religious services on this occasion?" "No." "Is there no minister present to officiate?" "No," was the only reply I received. I then turned to another and said, "Are there no ministers who reside in this part of the country?" "None very near here," was the response.