'Tis onplisint iv thim,
annyhow, not to say ongrateful. F'r mesilf, if I was wanst pushed off,
an' they'd waked me kindly, an' had a solemn rayqueem high mass f'r
me, an' a funeral with Roddey's Hi-beryan band, an' th' A-ho-aitches,
I have too much pride to come back f'r an encore. I wud so, Jawn. Whin
a man's dead, he ought to make th' best iv a bad job, an' not be
thrapsin' around, lookin' f'r throuble among his own kind.
"No, I niver see wan, but I know there are such things; f'r twinty
years ago all th' road was talkin' about how Flaherty, th' tailor,
laid out th' ghost iv Tim O'Grady. O'Grady was a big sthrappin'
Connock man, as wide across th' shoulders as a freight car. He was a
plastherer be thrade whin wages was high, an' O'Grady was rowlin' in
wealth. Ivry Sundah ye'd see him, with his horse an' buggy an' his
goold watch an' chain, in front iv th' Sullivans' house, waitin' f'r
Mary Ann Sullivan to go f'r a buggy ride with him over to McAllister
Place; an' he fin'lly married her, again th' wishes iv Flaherty, who
took to histin' in dhrinks, an' missed his jooty, an' was a scandal in
th' parish f'r six months.
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