were then broken into short lengths—every particular bone—even the very skull was so broken up that it was difficult to make out the several component plates afterwards. These bones were then deposited in a wooden box about two feet long by one broad, and about one foot in depth, and lined throughout with white satin. There I saw them on my visit to the cemetery. The box lay on a table in the tool-house at the cemetery gates. It was really hard to say which was whiter, the white satin or the white calcined bone heaped up within it. Although thoroughly burned, none of the integral structure of the bone was destroyed, and the spongy texture of the heads of the thigh bones, &c., presented a really beautiful appearance. In a corner of this wooden funeral urn—if I may be pardoned for the bull—lay a small octagonal tin box marked “matches,” and the manufacturer would have stared in amazement if he could only have foreseen its ultimate contents and destiny. The sexton gave me permission to open it and examine its contents. I did so, and I must confess my astonishment was quite as great as I could have fancied that of the tin match-box maker, could he only have peeped over my shoulder as I opened the lid. I had heard of silver urns before, containing hearts and so forth; but a tin match-box with such a lining was a matter I was little prepared for. On lifting the lid, I found within all the teeth of the deceased celestial together with his finger nails, which had been drawn out and off respectively, previous to the kiln-drying operation. The nails, it would appear, which were of the most absurd length, and more resembling the talons of some huge pterodactyle than anything else I can compare them to, were here encased as vouchers for his rank and station. None but the lower orders in China wearing short nails, these are obliged to do as we do—cut them, in order to be able to work with their hands for their daily bread. The sexton was, however, unable to enlighten my ignorance in the matter of the teeth; but I have no doubt there must have been some reason for boxing them up so carefully.
Ere this reaches you, the bones are with the mandarin’s family in the country of the children of the sun and moon.
THE TWO HANDS.
A large brown hand by labour stained
Four snowy fingers prest,
As though a swarthy Cyclops strained
A white maid to his breast.
And fondly did that brown hand hold
Those fingers white as snow,
As though it were a link of gold
That would not let them go.
Time passes on. The two hands clasp
Another newly given:
As though they’d found an angel’s grasp
To draw them up to heaven.
Once more the brown hand and the white
Are linked. So cold! so fast!—
As though true loving hearts unite
More closely at the last.
