If the dead person has been attached to any particular church in his or her life-time the coffin should be placed in that church the night before the funeral, so that the last night above ground the body may rest in that hallowed spot. Of course it should be watched there, and the candles and flowers should be arranged as in the mortuary chamber, and the first part of the service should be read there; not by a stranger, but by the family priest of whom I have spoken before; and then when the ceremony is over no one but the clergyman should return to the house with the mourners, who should separate and go to their own rooms. There should be no general family meal that day at least; certainly there should be no gathering even of relations and friends round the dinner-table. I have experienced more than one of these awful meals, and I can truthfully say that there is nothing more terrible on earth; people must talk, they cannot remain silent, they must eat and drink, and the _pseudo_-festivity and the endeavour to keep off and avoid _the_ subject are so truly ghastly, that under no circumstances can I understand such a thing can be in any way necessary in the least. Surely as unnecessary is also the reading of the will. What concerns the public can be told the public, the lawyers should manage the rest. Under no circumstances should the display of evil passions and disappointments be allowed that almost inevitably follows this institution. Let the burial-day be a day of meditation and quiet. In the evening the bereaved family can gather alone and talk over what has to be done. Then the next day let all the clothes be sent to the Kilburn Orphanage; and the personal property distributed according to the wish of the dead. Let the death room be entirely repapered and painted, and, if possible, refurnished; and, above all, do not be afraid to speak of those who have gone. I know how I should resent being forgotten; and perhaps those with whom we have just parted may hunger to hear all about us still; at all events, we cannot know they do not. _De mortuis_ may mean a great deal more than we think; it is doubly evil, surely, to speak aught but good of the dead if we remember not only the defencelessness which caused that proverb, but the idea that all we may say about them we say in their dumb presence, and before those who are silent, and cannot speak in their own defence.