If the inclemency of the day, however, was injurious to the general transaction of business, there was one class to whose interests it amply contributed—­I mean the publicans, and such as opened shebeen houses, or erected refreshment tents for the occasion.  In a great portion of Ireland there are to be found, in all fairs, what the people term spoileen tents—­that is, tents in which fresh mutton is boiled, and sold out, with bread and soup, to all customers.  I know not how it happens; but be the motive or cause what it may, scarcely any one ever goes into a spoileen tent, unless in a mood of mirth and jocularity.  To eat spoileen seriously, would be as rare a sight as to witness a wife dancing on her husband’s coffin.  It is very difficult, indeed, to ascertain the reason why the eating of fresh mutton in such circumstances is always associated with a spirit of strong ridicule and humor.  At all events, nothing can exceed the mirth that is always to be found among the parties who frequent such tents.  Fun, laughter, jest, banter, attack, and repartee fly about in all directions, and the only sounds heard are those of light-hearted noise and enjoyment.

Perhaps if the cause of this were closely traced, it might be found to consist in a sense of shame, which Paddy good humoredly attempts to laugh away.  It is well known that the great body of the people pass through life, without ever tasting beef or mutton—­a, circumstance which every one acquainted with the country knows to be true.  It is also a fact, that nineteen out of every twenty who go in to eat spoileen, are actuated more by curiosity than hunger, inasmuch as they consist of such persons as have never tasted it before.  This, therefore, being generally known, and each possessing latent consciousness of its truth, it is considered best to take the matter in good humor, and escape the shame of the thing, together with the poverty it implies, by turning it into ridicule and jest.  This indeed, is pretty evident, from the nature of the spoileen keeper’s observations on being paid, which is usually—­“Thank you, Barney; you may now considher yourself a gintleman;” or if a female—­“Long life to you, Bridget; you may now go into high life any time.”

It is unnecessary to say, that on the day in question, the spoileen tents were crowded to suffocation.  In general these are pretty large, sometimes one, occasionally two fires being kept in each; over these, placed upon three large stones, or suspended from three poles, united at top, is the pot or pots in which the spoileen is boiled; whilst patiently in a corner of the tent, stand the poor invalid sheep, that are doomed, as necessity may require, to furnish forth this humorous entertainment.