Another, the deaf sire of the dead, went staggering about, and groping; saying, that he was now quite blind; for some months previous he had lost one eye in the death of his eldest son and now the other was gone.

“I am childless,” he cried; “henceforth call me Roi Mori,” that is, Twice-Blind.

While the relatives were thus violently lamenting, the rest of the company occasionally scratched themselves with their shells; but very slightly, and mostly on the soles of their feet; from long exposure, quite callous.  This was interrupted, however, when the real mourners averted their eyes; though at no time was there any deviation in the length of their faces.

But on all sides, lamentations afresh broke forth, upon the appearance of a person who had been called in to assist in solemnizing the obsequies, and also to console the afflicted.

In rotundity, he was another Borabolla.  He puffed and panted.

As he approached the corpse, a sobbing silence ensued; when holding the hand of the dead, between his, the stranger thus spoke:—­

“Mourn not, oh friends of Karhownoo, that this your brother lives not.  His wounded head pains him no more; he would not feel it, did a javelin pierce him.  Yea; Karhownoo is exempt from all the ills and evils of this miserable Mardi!”

Hereupon, the Twice-Blind, who being deaf, heard not what was said, tore his gray hair, and cried, “Alas! alas! my boy; thou wert the merriest man in Mardi, and now thy pranks are over!”

But the other proceeded—­“Mourn not, I say, oh friends of Karhownoo; the dead whom ye deplore is happier than the living; is not his spirit in the aerial isles?”

“True! true!” responded the raving wife, mingling her blood with her tears, “my own poor hapless Karhownoo is thrice happy in Paradise!” And anew she wailed, and lacerated her cheeks.

“Rave not, I say.”

But she only raved the more.

And now the good stranger departed; saying, he must hie to a wedding, waiting his presence in an arbor adjoining.

Understanding that the removal of the body would not take place till midnight, we thought to behold the mode of marrying in Mondoldo.

Drawing near the place, we were greeted by merry voices, and much singing, which greatly increased when the good stranger was perceived.

Gayly arrayed in fine robes, with plumes on their heads, the bride and groom stood in the middle of a joyous throng, in readiness for the nuptial bond to be tied.

Standing before them, the stranger was given a cord, so bedecked with flowers, as to disguise its stout fibers; and taking:  the bride’s hands, he bound them together to a ritual chant; about her neck, in festoons, disposing the flowery ends of the cord.  Then turning to the groom, he was given another, also beflowered; but attached thereto was a great stone, very much carved, and stained; indeed, so every way disguised, that a person not knowing what it was, and lifting it, would be greatly amazed at its weight.  This cord being attached to the waist of the groom, he leaned over toward the bride, by reason of the burden of the drop.