The tombs of the High-Castes are something like those of our _Literati_--though, instead of being in the country amid the pleasing scenes of Nature, they are generally in the _holy_ grounds of the Temples, and even within the Temples themselves--for the superstitious Barbarians think that, even _after death_, the body is safer from the Devil _there_ than elsewhere! But the common people lie hideously huddled together, without distinguishing marks (or with so slight as to be quickly obliterated), and are soon totally neglected and forgotten--happy, indeed, if their despised dust may mingle with _holy_ earth within the precincts of Temples. The Bonzes pray and sing the usual invocations and prayers over the body of the dead, before it is placed in the tomb--but there is no real respect for the dead--it is not to be looked for in the rough, barbaric nature. In our _Flowery Kingdom_ regard for the dead, respect for their memory, tombs carefully preserved amid the quiet groves of the country, tablets and busts set up in the _Halls of Ancestors_--these are ordinary things. With the English, in general, the dead is a hideous object turned over to the undertaker and his minions to be buried out of sight, as soon as decency allows! With us, the poorest will have the coffin ready, prepared, and carefully honoured and cared for. With the English, the thought of one is repulsive, and he looks upon it with loathing! No doubt the horrid superstition has much to do with this feeling. The undertakers (a hateful crew) drape everything in black. They take possession of everything, and turn the whole house into a charnel. They place the _defunct_ (as the Barbarians, with a kind of contempt, call the dead) in a black vehicle, drawn by black horses, and draped with black cloth--black feathers and scarfs, hideously flaunted, with men clothed in black, attend--the dismal Hearse, with its wretched accompaniments, disappears--but only to disgorge the body. Soon after these Vultures maybe seen returning, seated upon the Hearse, clustering there, like carrion birds, who have gorged themselves! When they have feasted and drunk at the House of Woe (woe, indeed, whilst deified by them), and generally spent as much money as is possible--they, at last, disappear--and the family breathe again!