Am ‘ar mo cúilín teamhrach’ [in the clover], as we would say in Irish now that I have the weight of that infernal exam. off my mind. To-day chanced to pass a funeral on my way to cousin Arthur’s, and was amazed to see that over 40 small sleek black-haired sallow oval-eyed Japs were following it. Their captain, the only tall one amongst them, stalked in front in black in a tall hat. Evidently they were the crew of a ship just come to port who had lost one of their number. The poor fellow was accidentally suffocated and they were interring him in Cork. Followed with great interest, and could not take my eyes off the little orientals. Expected that he would be buried with Buddhist or Shinto rites, but it was a Protestant clergyman officiated. There was an immense throng witnessed the affair, which was conducted with all the courtesy of the east, the members of the crew bowing sedately towards the coffin before they left, looking mournfully and silently on the remains of their comrade. How sad that he should be buried in a strange land so far from home!
