christenings. . . . The inhabitants marry at an early age. In "the West," a girl's first appearance at mass is well understood to be an intimation that her parents wish to receive proposals for her. Wakes and funerals here exhibit the mixture of grief and mirth which has been so often observed in other parts of Ireland. Dismal howlings are alternated with songs, plays, and ridiculous stories.—(Vol. ii. pp. 458-460.)
Ramoan, country Antrim.
During the summer months a singular appearance is seen on the coast, particularly near the causeway shore, resembling the Fata Morganna of Rhegio. Shadows resembling castles, ruins, and tall spires darted rapidly across the surface of the sea, which were instantly succeeded by appearances of trees, lengthened into considerable height; the shadows moved to the eastern part of the horizon, and at sunset totally disappeared. These phenomena have given rise to various romantic stories. A book, still extant, printed in 1748, and written by a person who resided near the Giants Causeway, gives a long account of an enchanted island annually seen floating along the Antrim coast which he calls the "Old Brazils." It is supposed by the peasants that a sod of Irish soil thrown on this island would give it stability; but though several fishing-boats have gone out at different times provided with the article, it has hitherto eluded their vigilance.—(Vol. ii. pp. 515-516.)
Whitechurch, county Wexford.
The only patron solemnity observed is that of Priest's Haggert, or Trinity Sunday.
The lower classes are uncommonly fond of dancing, and the young men of playing ball. They assemble in multitudes in the evenings of Sundays for these amusements.—(Vol. ii. p. 544.)
Ardclinis and Laid, county Antrim.
Near Cushendall is a small well called Tobordmony, or Sunday Well, which has its origin from being visited on that day for the cure of complaints chiefly of children. A little pebble is thrown into the well, and a pin stuck in a bit of cloth left beside it—thousands of these shreds may be seen there. . . . . There are some prejudices
