uchal puts an ould dark coat on him, and if
he can, borry a wig from any of the ould men in the wake-house, why,
well and good, he's the liker his work--this is the priest; he takes,
and drives all the young men out of the house, and shuts the door upon
them, so, that they can't get in till he lets them. He then ranges the
girls all beside one another, and, going to the first, makes her name
him she wishes to be her husband; this she does, of coorse, and the
priest lugs him in, shutting the door upon the rest. He then pronounces
this marriage sarvice, when the husband smacks her first, and then
the priest:--'Amo amas, avourneen--in nomine gomine, betwuxt and
between--for hoc erat in votis, squeeze 'em please 'em--omnia vincit
amor, wid two horns to caput nap it--poluphlasboio, the lasses--'Quid,'
says Cleopatra; 'Shid,' says Antony--ragibus et clatibus solemus stapere
windous--nine months--big-bottle, and a honeymoon--Alneas poque Dido'
poque Roymachree--hum not fiem viat--lag rag, merry kerry, Parawig and
breeches--hoc manifestibus omnium--Kiss your wife under the nose, then
seek repose.' 'Tis' done,' says the priest. 'Vinculum trinculum; and
now you're married. Amen!' Well, these two are married, and he places
his wife upon his knee, for fraid of taking up too much room, _you
persave_; there they coort away again, and why shouldn't they?

"The priest then goes to the next, and makes her name her husband; this
is complied with, and he is brought in after the same manner, but no one
else till they're called: he is then married, and kisses his wife, and
the priest kisses her after him; and so they're all married.

"But if you'd see them that don't chance to be called at all, the figure
they cut--slipping into some dark corner, to avoid the mobbing they get
from the priest and the others. When they're all united, they must each
sing a song--man and wife, according as they sit; or if they can't sing,
or get some one to do it for them, they're divorced. But the priest,
himself, usually lilts for any one that's not able to give a verse. You
see, Mr. Morrow, there's always in the neighborhood some droll fellow
that takes all these things upon him, and if he happened to be absent,
the wake would be quite dull."

"Well," said Andy Morrow, "have you any more of their sports; Tom?"

"Ay, have I; one of the best and pleasantest you heard yet."

"I hope there's no more coorting in it," says Nancy; "God knows we're
tired of thei