A Few Dirty-Looking Men, Who Bear The Coffin, Endeavour To Make
Their Way Through The Crowd As Well As They Can; And Some Mourners
Follow.
The people seem to pay as little attention to such a
procession, as if a hay-cart were driving past.
The funerals of
people of distinction, and of the great, are, however, differently
regarded.
These funerals always appear to me the more indecent in a populous
city, from the total indifference of the beholders, and the perfect
unconcern with which they are beheld. The body of a fellow-creature
is carried to his long home as though it had been utterly
unconnected with the rest of mankind. And yet, in a small town or
village, everyone knows everyone; and no one can be so insignificant
as not to be missed when he is taken away.
That same influenza which I left at Berlin, I have had the hard
fortune again to find here; and many people die of it. It is as yet
very cold for the time of the year, and I am obliged every day to
have a fire. I must own that the heat or warmth given by sea-coal,
burnt in the chimney, appears to me softer and milder than that
given by our stoves. The sight of the fire has also a cheerful and
pleasing effect. Only you must take care not to look at it
steadily, and for a continuance, for this is probably the reason
that there are so many young old men in England, who walk and ride
in the public streets with their spectacles on; thus anticipating,
in the bloom of youth, those conveniences and comforts which were
intended for old age.
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