some magistrate or person of dignity walked
with the widow. Judge Sewall often speaks of "leading the widow in a
mourning cloak."

One great expense of a funeral was the gloves. In some communities
these were sent as an approved and elegant form of invitation to
relatives and friends and dignitaries, whose presence was desired.
Occasionally, a printed "invitation to follow the corps" was also sent.
One for the funeral of Sir William Phipps is still in existence--a
fantastically gloomy document. In the case of a funeral of any person
prominent in State, Church, or society, vast numbers of gloves were
disbursed; "none of 'em of any figure but what had gloves sent to 'em."
At the funeral of the wife of Governor Belcher, in 1736, over one
thousand pairs of gloves were given away; at the funeral of Andrew
Faneuil three thousand pairs; the number frequently ran up to several
hundred. Different qualities of gloves were presented at the same
funeral to persons of different social circles, or of varied degrees of
consanguinity or acquaintance. Frequently the orders for these _vales_
were given in wills. As early as 1633 Samuel Fuller, of Plymouth,
directed in his will that his sister was to have gloves worth twelve
shillings; Governor Winthrop and his children each "a paire of gloves of
five shilling;" while plebeian Rebecca Prime had to be contented with a
cheap pair worth two shillings and sixpence. The under-bearers who
carried the coffin were usually given different and cheaper gloves from
the pall-bearers. We find seven pairs of gloves given at a pauper's
funeral, and not under the head of "Extrodny Chearges" either.

Of course the minister was always given gloves. They were showered on
him at weddings, christenings, funerals. Andrew Eliot, of the North
Church, in Boston, kept a record of the gloves and rings which he
received; and, incredible as it may seem, in thirty-two years he was
given two thousand nine hundred and forty pairs of gloves. Though he had
eleven children, he and his family could scarcely wear them all, so he
sold them through kindly Boston milliners, and kept a careful account of
the transaction, of the lamb's-wool gloves, the kid gloves, the long
gloves--which were probably Madam Eliot's. He received between six and
seven hundred dollars for the gloves, and a goodly sum also for funeral
rings.

Various kinds of gloves are specified as suitable for mourning; for
instance, in the _Boston Independent Ad