* Many of these striking and startling old customs have
     nearly disappeared, and indeed it is better that they
     should.

The death of Kelly, however, could not be actually, or, at least, directly considered a murder, for it was probable that Grimes did not inflict the stroke with an intention to take away his life, and, besides, Kelly survived it four months.  Grimes’s house was not more than fifteen perches from the road:  and when the corpse was opposite the little bridleway that led up to it, they laid it down for a moment, and the relations of Kelly surrounded it, offering up a short prayer, with uncovered heads.  It was then borne toward the house, whilst the keening commenced in a loud and wailing cry, accompanied with clapping of hands, and every other symptom of external sorrow.  But, independent of their compliance with this ceremony, as an old usage, there is little doubt that the appearance of anything connected with the man who certainly occasioned Kelly’s death, awoke a keener and more intense sorrow for his loss.  The wailing was thus continued until the coffin was laid opposite Ghimes’s door; nor did it cease then, but, on the contrary, was renewed with louder and more bitter lamentations.

As the multitude stood compassionating the affliction of the widow and orphans, it was the most impressive and solemn spectacle that could be witnessed.  The very house seemed to have a condemned look; and, as a single wintry breeze waved a tuft of long grass that grew on a seat of turf at the side of the door, it brought the vanity of human enmity before my mind with melancholy force.  When the keening ceased, Kelly’s wife, with her children, knelt, their faces towards the house of their enemy, and invoked, in the strong language of excited passion, the justice of heaven upon the head of the man who had left her a widow, and her children fatherless.  I was anxious to know if Grimes would appear to disclaim the intention of murder; but I understood that he was at market—­for it happened to be market-day.

“Come out!” said the widow—­“come out, and look at the sight that’s here before you!  Come and view your own work!  Lay but your hand upon the coffin, and the blood of him you murdhered will spout, before God and these Christian people, in your guilty face!  But, oh! may the Almighty God bring this home to you!—­May you never lave this life, John Grimes, till worse nor has overtaken me and mine fall upon you and yours!  May our curse light upon you this day!—­the curse, I say, of the widow and the orphans, that your bloody hand has made us, may it blast you!  May you, and all belonging to you wither off of the ’airth!  Night and day, sleeping and waking—­like snow off the ditch, may you melt, until your name and your place be disremimbered, except to be cursed by them that will hear of you and your hand of murdher!  Amin, we pray God this day!—­and the widow and orphans’ prayer will not fall to the ground while your guilty head is above it!  Childhre, do you all say it?”