Thursday, 31.--I rode to Rathcormuck. There being a great burying in the afternoon to
which people came from all parts, Mr. Lloyd read part of the burial service in the church;
after which I preached on "The end of all things is at hand." I was exceedingly shocked at
(what I had only heard of before) the Irish howl which followed. It was not a song, as I
supposed, but a dismal, inarticulate yell, set up at the grave by four shrill-voiced women
who (we understood) were hired for that purpose. But I saw not one that shed a tear; for
that, it seems, was not in their bargain.
Wednesday, June 13.--I rode to Shronill again; and in the morning, Thursday, 14, to Clonmell. After an hours rest we set forward, but were obliged to stop in the afternoon sooner than we designed, by my horse having a shoe loose. The poor man, at whose house we called, was not only patient of exhortation but exceedingly thankful for it. We afterward missed our way, so that it was nearly eight o'clock before we got over the ferry, a mile short of Waterford.
The Journal of John Wesley
Wednesday, June 13.--I rode to Shronill again; and in the morning, Thursday, 14, to Clonmell. After an hours rest we set forward, but were obliged to stop in the afternoon sooner than we designed, by my horse having a shoe loose. The poor man, at whose house we called, was not only patient of exhortation but exceedingly thankful for it. We afterward missed our way, so that it was nearly eight o'clock before we got over the ferry, a mile short of Waterford.
The Journal of John Wesley
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