or a shilling, or what they please. The reader will
find in the note upon the word WAKE, more particulars respecting the
conclusion of the Irish funerals.

Certain old women, who cry particularly loud and well are in great
request, and, as a man said to the Editor, 'Every one would wish and be
proud to have such at his funeral, or at that of his friends.' The lower
Irish are wonderfully eager to attend the funerals of their friends
and relations, and they make their relationships branch out to a great
extent. The proof that a poor man has been well beloved during his life
is his having a crowded funeral. To attend a neighbour's funeral is a
cheap proof of humanity, but it does not, as some imagine, cost nothing.
The time spent in attending funerals may be safely valued at half a
million to the Irish nation; the Editor thinks that double that
sum would not be too high an estimate. The habits of profligacy
and drunkenness which are acquired at WAKES are here put out of the
question. When a labourer, a carpenter, or a smith, is not at his work,
which frequently happens, ask where he is gone, and ten to one the
answer is--'Oh, faith, please your honour, he couldn't do a stroke
to-day, for he's gone to THE funeral.'

Even beggars, when they grow old, go about begging FOR THEIR OWN
FUNERALS that is, begging for money to buy a coffin, candles, pipes, and
tobacco. For the use of the candles, pipes, and tobacco, see WAKE.

Those who value customs in proportion to their antiquity, and nations in
proportion to their adherence to ancient customs, will doubtless admire
the Irish ULLALOO, and the Irish nation, for persevering in this usage
from time immemorial. The Editor, however, has observed some alarming
symptoms, which seem to prognosticate the declining taste for the
Ullaloo in Ireland. In a comic theatrical entertainment, represented not
long since on the Dublin stage, a chorus of old women was introduced,
who set up the Irish howl round the relics of a physician, who is
supposed to have fallen under the wooden sword of Harlequin. After the
old women have continued their Ullaloo for a decent time, with all the
necessary accompaniments of wringing their hands, wiping or rubbing
their eyes with the corners of their gowns or aprons, etc., one of the
mourners suddenly suspends her lamentable cries, and, turning to her
neighbour, asks, 'Arrah now, honey, who is it we're crying for?'

GLOSSARY 4. THE TENANTS WERE SENT AWAY WI