It must be acknowledged, that these men are not in any danger of catching cold by taking off their wigs occasionally, because they usually have fine crops of hair growing under their wigs. The wigs are often yellow, and the hair which appears from beneath them black; the wigs are usually too small, and are raised up by the hair beneath, or by the ears of the wearers. [18] A wake in England is a meeting avowedly for merriment; in Ireland it is a nocturnal meeting avowedly for the purpose of watching and bewailing the dead; but, in reality, for gossiping and debauchery. See Glossary [C2]. [19] Shebean-house, a hedge alehouse. Shebcan properly means weak small-beer, taplash. [20] At the coronation of one of our monarchs, the king complained of the confusion which happened in the procession. The great officer who presided told his majesty, “That it should not be so next time.” [21] _Kilt and smashed_.--Our author is not here guilty of an anti-climax. The mere English reader, from a similarity of sound between the words _kilt_ and _killed_, might be induced to suppose that their meanings are similar, yet they are not by any means in Ireland synonymous terms. Thus you may hear a man exclaim, “I’m kilt and murdered!” but he frequently means only that he has received a black eye, or a slight contusion.--_I’m kilt all over_ means that he is in a worse state than being simply _kilt_. Thus, _I’m kilt with the cold_, is nothing to _I’m kilt all over with the rheumatism_. [22] _The room_--the principal room in the house. [23] _Tester_--sixpence; from the French word, tête, a head: a piece of silver stamped with a head, which in old French was called “un testion,” and which was about the value of an old English sixpence. Tester is used in Shakspeare. ESSAY ON IRISH BULLS Summos posse viros, et magna exempla daturos, Vervecum in patria, crassoque sub aëre nasci. JUVENAL. IRISH BULLS INTRODUCTION. What mortal, what fashionable mortal, is there who has not, in the midst of a formidable circle, been reduced to the embarrassment of having nothing to say? Who is there that has not felt those oppressive fits of silence which ensue after the weather, and the fashions, and the politics, and the scandal, and all the common-place topics of the day have been utterly exhausted? Who is there that, at such a time, has not tried in vain to call up an idea, and found that _none would come when they did call_, or that all that came were impertinent, and must be rejected, some as too grave, others too gay, some too vulgar, some too refined for the hearers, some relating to persons, others to circumstances that must not be mentioned? Not one will do! and all this time the silence lasts, and the difficulty of breaking it increases every instant in an incalculable proportion.