* Those who make a station at Lough Derg are in the
     habit of bringing home some of its pebbles, which are
     considered to be sacred and possessed of many virtues.

“Ned,” said his brother, “are his feet and toes loose?”

“Musha, but that’s more than myself knows,” replied Ned—­“Are they, Katty?” said he, inquiring from the sister of the deceased.

“Arrah, to be sure, avourneen!” answered Katty—­“do you think we would lave him to be tied that way, when he’d be risin’ out of his last bed at the day of judgment?  Wouldn’t it be too bad to have his toes tied thin, avourneen?”

The coffin was then brought out and placed upon four chairs before the door, to be keened; and, in the mean time, the friends and well-wishers of the deceased were brought into the room to get each a glass of whiskey, as a token of respect.  I observed also, that such as had not seen any of Kelly’s relations until then, came up, and shaking hands with them, said—­“I’m sorry for your loss!” This expression of condolence was uniform, and the usual reply was, “Thank you, Mat, or Jim!” with a pluck of the skirt, accompanied by a significant nod, to follow.  They then got a due share of whiskey; and it was curious, after they came out, their faces a little flushed, and their eyes watery with the strong, ardent spirits, to hear with what heartiness and alacrity they entered into Denis’s praises.

When he had been keened in the street, there being no hoarse, the coffin was placed upon two handspikes, which were fixed across, but parallel to each other under it.  These were borne by four men, one at the end of each, with the point of it crossing his body a little below his stomach; in other parts of Ireland, the coffin is borne upon a bier on the shoulders, but this is more convenient and less distressing.

When we got out upon the road, the funeral was of great extent—­for Kelly had been highly respected.  On arriving at the merin which bounded the land he had owned, the coffin was laid down, and a loud and wailing keene took place over it.  It was again raised, and the funeral proceeded in a direction which I was surprised to see it take, and it was not until an acquaintance of my brother’s had explained the matter that I understood the cause of it.  In Ireland when a murder is perpetrated, it is sometimes usual, as the funeral proceeds to the grave-yard, to bring the corpse to the house of him who committed the crime, and lay it down at his door, while the relations of the deceased kneel down, and, with an appaling solemnity, utter the deepest, imprecations, and invoke the justice of heaven on the head of the murderer.  This, however, is generally omitted if the residence of the criminal be completely out of the line of the funeral, but if it be possible, by any circuit, to approach it, this dark ceremony is never omitted.  In cases where the crime is doubtful, or unjustly imputed, those who are thus visited come out, and laying their right hand upon the coffin, protest their innocence of the blood of the deceased, calling God to witness the truth of their asseverations; but, in cases where the crime is clearly proved against the murderer, the door is either closed, the ceremony repelled by violence, or the house abandoned by the inmates until the funeral passes.*