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At an Irish Funeral

Thursday, 31.--I rode to Rathcormuck. There being a great burying in the afternoon to which people came from all parts, Mr. Lloyd read part of the burial service in the church; after which I preached on "The end of all things is at hand." I was exceedingly shocked at (what I had only heard of before) the Irish howl which followed. It was not a song, as I supposed, but a dismal, inarticulate yell, set up at the grave by four shrill-voiced women who (we understood) were hired for that purpose. But I saw not one that shed a tear; for that, it seems, was not in their bargain.

Wednesday, June 13.--I rode to Shronill again; and in the morning, Thursday, 14, to Clonmell. After an hours rest we set forward, but were obliged to stop in the afternoon sooner than we designed, by my horse having a shoe loose. The poor man, at whose house we called, was not only patient of exhortation but exceedingly thankful for it. We afterward missed our way, so that it was nearly eight o'clock before we got over the ferry, a mile short of Waterford.

At the ferry was a lad who asked my name. When he heard it, he cried out, "O sir, you have no business here; you have nothing to do at Waterford. Butler has been gathering mobs there all this week; and they set upon us so that we cannot walk the streets. But if you will stay at that little house, I will go and bring B. McCullock to you.

We stayed some time, and then thought it best to go a little on our way toward Portarlington. But the ferryman would not come over; so that, after waiting till we were weary, we made our way through some grounds and over the mountain into the Carrick road; and went on about five miles to a village where we found a quiet house. Sufficient for this day was the labor thereof. We were on horseback, with but an hour or two's intermission, from five in the morning, till within a quarter of eleven at night.

Friday, 15.--About two in the morning I heard people making a great noise and calling me by my name. They were some of our friends from Waterford, who informed us that, upon the lad's coming in, sixteen or eighteen of them came out to conduct me into the town. Not finding me, they returned; but the mob met them by the way and pelted them with dirt and stones to their own doors.

We set out at four and reached Kilkenny, about twenty-five old Irish miles, about noon. This is by far the most pleasant, as well as most fruitful country, which I have seen in all Ireland. Our way after dinner lay by Dunmore, the seat of the late Duke of Ormond. We rode through the park for about two miles, by the side of which the river runs. I never saw either in England, Holland, or Germany, so delightful a place. The walks, each consisting of four rows of ashes, the tufts of trees sprinkled up and down, interspersed with the smoothest and greenest lawns, are beautiful beyond description. And what hath the owner thereof, the Earl of Arran? Not even the beholding it with his eyes.

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