Such transactions, however, are always clandestine. A small
inscription is let into the pavement, where the public statue would have
stood, which informs the reader that such a statue has been ordered for
the person, whoever he or she may be, but that as yet the sculptor has
not been able to complete it. There has been no Act to repress statues
that are intended for private consumption, but as I have said, the custom
is falling into desuetude.
Returning to Erewhonian customs in connection with death, there is one
which I can hardly pass over. When any one dies, the friends of the
family write no letters of condolence, neither do they attend the
scattering, nor wear mourning, but they send little boxes filled with
artificial tears, and with the name of the sender painted neatly upon the
outside of the lid. The tears vary in number from two to fifteen or
sixteen, according to degree of intimacy or relationship; and people
sometimes find it a nice point of etiquette to know the exact number
which they ought to send. Strange as it may appear, this attention is
highly valued, and its omission by those from whom it might be expected
is keenly felt. These tears were formerly stuck with adhesive plaster to
the cheeks of the bereaved, and were worn in public for a few months
after the death of a relative; they were then banished to the hat or
bonnet, and are now no longer worn.
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