The record-union., 1891-12-05

t. dooarb'
Descending. he greets the swarthy
s'pairdner" of the dead miner with sol
emn visage, calculating the while if the
lumber and coffin Furniture are ready,
when this brief but comprehensive colo
guy may be heard:
''Wass matter, coden (cousin) Jack,
you?''
"Thee cosn't guess whose dead, you"
''No, no, coden Jack; who es a?''
lacks Billy IS dead, you. Hawl (hole
in the 'mine-pitch') went oaff about un n
smash I'm all TO seats"
''Thee doesn't say so?''
'Yea, yes, you. Thees nuns max a
box for un."
All is now hustle in the little shop.
The measure for the "box" has been
brought with the aid of "strop' or
string; or the undertaken secures it by an
extraordinary series of professional ma
neuvers about the person of the ''paird-
ner," who, as cautiously, admits certain
comparisons regarding his own stature
and that of ''un' who was smashed all
to scats.''
Then the sleepy prentice is bundled
out OF bed and hurried off to Praze, Hell
ston or Penzance for the coffin-handles
and plate, the latter always being huge
enameled affair more than a foot square.
The lad, shivering with fright, first pro-
ceeds to the house for the requisite let
tering. Then the dreariest trip on earth
is taken by this Cornish boy. 1t is often
from ten to twenty miles and return.
Nine times out of ten his route is across
bowling moors, over dangerous paths that
literally wind about pitfalls, or through
slX-foot lanes where the thorn trees prod
and lance him savagely. Dark and drear
is this trip for any human. Grewsomely
dark and drear it always is for this Cor
nish prentice, for it always rains in Corn
wall, and the wind forever RACES over the
rock-strewn peninsula SO iercely that
even the grayestones are anchored and
propped that the signposts of the dead
may not be blown away. Inexpressibly
dark and drear is it to this Cornish lad
with the wrath of the smashed un'' for
his only company.
The country undertaken will complete
his "box" by the next evening. 1t is
always the same in Cornwall-of pine,
stained a rich, dark cherry, with two
heavy handles on each side the huge en-
ameled plate on top, upholstered with
carpenters shavings and cheap white
muslin, and provided with a stout rope
handle, like that on an emigrant chest, at
the head and foot. There are no hearses
in this land. No carts, wagons or car
riages are ever seen here at funeral. un-
less it be at one of some member of no.
BILE family
The delivery of the coffin for ''lavin'
out'' has therefore been, for generations,
matter of importance and rude ceremo-
ny, and always by hand. From the uni
YersaI dread of these people to come in
any manner of contact with anything per-
tanning to the dead, "carryin' the boX'' is
attended with some mystery and more
difficulty. Usually the undertakers old
cronies, who know that liquor and, per-
haps, shilling besides, is, at the end of
the journey, are engaged. These, four in
number, with the .'boX" on timbers be-
tween, and with the joiner at their head,
setout on their lugubrious journey, which
IS often one of many miles.
On arrival at the place of destination
the box" is set down some distance from
the house. In accordance with long GUS
tom he enters alone and announces his
mission. Through just as old custom a
short period of wailing is then the rule.
This ceases as abruptly as it began, when
the undertaken always asks of the widow,
"Well, jimmy, hast ee got any ticker?
The chaps out theirs little 'fraid." She
will invariably reply, "Yes, my son,
plenty, plenty" He then repairs tolthe
thirsty helpers with the remark, ''No fear,
boys, long O. Jack. Jinny's got plenty
icker," and they will as cheerily reply:
"All roight, Tommy, we can stand un
noWD
These matters, essential from time i'm
u,
followed by great amount of Officious
measurement, for, from first to last, every
possible opportunity for simple impress
siveness and effect is made most Of
Sometimes the ''heading'' of the little
stairway is removed. Perhaps the "box''
must go in through the second story win
dow. But nothing more terrible could
happen than to have the "box" come
into the house in any other way than
feet first" That would be an unquali-
fed and absolute presage of further
death in the same family, or to neighbors
who were watching" with the family.
In Cornwall, ''watching'' with the dead
is universally called "settin' oop with Co
den jack" Friends and relatives always
go to the house of mourning and enliven
the family with memories of other similar
occasions, OF the most marked character
Istlcs of the deceased, and, all else fail
ing, revive the countless uncanny death
legends and superstitions of Cornwall.
These gatherings, however, are never
held in the room with the dead. The
single lIving-room of the Cornish house,
hold is utilized, and it would not be a
Cornish home if the funeral saffron
cake' and an abundance of LIQUOR were
not provided.
By word of mouth the hour, which is
set by the undertaken, of departing for
the parish ehurch-for, although nearly
every CorniShman is finally buried with
the Church of England service-has been
made known far and near. Thousands of
folk, all in black, gather to escort the
dead and mourners. Here, again, the
importance of the undertaken is OBJ
served. He has selected a voluntary
choir from the crowd. He appoints the
eight "bierers" or bearers. He brings
two chairs from the house and sets them
in the highway. The coffin is deposited
on these. Then he arranges the tbierers,
and the curious ''coffin tackle"
Ihls consists of two polished hectagon
sticks, four feet long, and round at the
ends, and four stout linen ''napkins'' two
feet wide and three yards long. Two of
these are passed through the rope handles.
one at each cotfinend, knotted, and the
sticks are passed through these knots,
providing supporting handles for "bier-
ers," two at the head and two at the foot.
Four other "bierers," two on each side.
assist in carrying the coffin by passing
two napkins under the coffin and the ends
up through the side handles, for it should
be remembered that the burden must be
literally carried often for many miles, and
never once set upon the ground, although,
from another ancient custom, chairs will
be seen set outside every house along the
funeral way.
A dirge is sung while the mourners are
pelug ulSpoSeu III que order. Then the
undertaken reads the first two lines of
that most lugubrious and solemn of all
Wesleyan hymns
Where'er we go, where'er we be,
We're marching TO the grave
which is the signal for wailing on the part
OF the mourners, weird and plaintive
chanting by the choir, though no others
are allowed to lift their voices, and for the
slow and measured departure of the dole
full cortege.
All along the way the undertaken is
proudly conducting his functions. He Sc
lectS helpers, who relieve the ror,,lor