Funerals in this country take many forms. First, in towns, for plump, portly burghers, as well as for men of note in letters, politics, or art, there is the old form of coffin chariot, with cock-hatted driver, the horses clothed in all the panoply of funereal darkness, the road sprinkled with juniper or yew twigs, the Death’s head blended with a flame rising from the urn as decoration; the latter the only cheerful, hopeful thought in the whole arrangement. We regret to add that, like weddings, funerals are characterized by heavy libations. As to military obsequies, they are much the same in all lands, and therefore we need say nothing concerning them. And now, away from towns and cemeteries, to the more simple method of taking farewell of passing spirits and lifeless clay.

The Stolkjær and Boat.

During the visit to Indfjord a description was given of the funeral of Ingeborg, a good pige swept away by a landslip. How full of sympathy the good folk were; how the finest breed of blakken was brought, with the best carved collar the district could produce, to honour her last remains! And in another place we referred to the more common occurrence of the coffin being placed on a stolkjær. During the winter, in some of the most inaccessible farms, such as the Geiranger, where there is no landing-place, the body is kept until spring. This seems protracted agony; but there is the balance of nature—no decomposition. In the less-frequented rivers a solitary boat may sometimes be seen, containing a funeral party unattended, their sorrow self-contained and unshared by others. The opposite woodcut illustrates a touching incident—a bonde and wife taking their “only one” to God’s acre. This is secluded life intensified. Their little one—their treasure and delight, their pet lamb—was called home, and they had to take it to its resting-place. The poor mother may have borne up bravely, but the sight of the churchyard in the distance was too much for her, and at last she gave way and sobbed over the coffin. But when she arrives the priest with kindly voice and deep sympathy will comfort and cheer her. Little, however, will they talk as they row back, with their hearts full and their home empty. None but those who have had an only one called away can realise the blank—their “sunbeam” gone. The grave-boards bear simple and pious inscriptions. We append a few here.

Their “only one.”

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LINES ON GRAVE-BOARDS.

TRANSLATED WORD FOR WORD FROM THE ORIGINALS.