This morning I felt the heavy drag of my own corrupted nature: timidity and the ease of excuses, cried out for extended repose and sleep. I honestly wrestled against sloth, compelled by the urge to honor my Redeemer before the very souls who, on this day, are tragically immersed in the second day of their solemn observance for the departed.   In this season, the people flock in droves, seeking to honor the deceased with vain oblations of candles and prayer. But what terrible blindness! To offer inanimate candles and dead prayers for the dead—a profound vanity! Therefore, I have resolved in my spirit to seek out three places of earthly rest along my destined route: the grave sites at Santa Maria, the cemetery of Tumana, and the sacred ground of Saint Joseph, where the mortal remains of my dear wife’s father and grandmother repose. My journey led me past the first two resting places, where, perhaps by the kind arrangement of Providence, no great throng was yet assembled. Perhap...