A Bunch of Shamrocks. Being a collection of Irish tales and sketches

Front matter

A BUNCH OF SHAMROCKS. BEING % Collection of Jris| «j ale.1, mb sketches. BV E. OWENS BLACKBURNE, Author of " Illustrious Irishwomen," "A Woman Scorned," " Molly Carew" &V., &c. Uon^on : NEWMAN AND CO., 43, Hart Street, Oxford Street. 1879. DEDICATED TO MY GOD-DAUGHTER, NORAH IVATTS. London, 1879. CONTENTS. PAGE I. — Biddy Brady's Banshee ... ... ... ... 1 IL— The Priest's Boy 15 III.— The Stray Sod of Tiernach Bog 39 IV.— Ould Butler's Wake 61 V.— Philosopher Push 81 VI.— Lovely Katty Keogh 103 VII. — Norah Kinsellagh ... 115 VIII.— Dean Swift's Ghost 137 IX.— "Denis Dhuv" 153 X. — An Unsolved Mystery ... 171 XL— Miss Honor's Patients 187 XII.— Maureen 205 XIII.—" Till the Sea gives up its Dead " 219 XIV.— Dick Wilkin's Adventure 263 XV.— Story of a Deaf Mute BIDDY BRADY'S BANSHEE. ' ' Aeeah, thin ! — an' did yeh nivir hear tell av ' Biddy Brady's Banshee?' Shure, iviry wan for three parishes roun' was talkin' about it !

Bedad, it was th' grandest piece av fun ivir happened in th' place, and only jist t' mintion it t' ould Biddy Brady is like shakin' a red rag at a bull ! It's she that gets mad av yeh ask her av she ivir seen a banshee ! " Yis ! alannah machree, I'll tell yeh the story. Shure no wan knows it betther nor meself, for wasn't I there th' day Father Connor found out all about it, so here it's for yeh ! " Well — four years ago whin ould Paddy Brady was dyin' — he died av an indigestion av th' lung, ma'am — at laist, that's what th' E docthor sed, but ould Rosy Finnegan, that's a very knowledgable ould woman, sez that it wasn't that at all, but a demur* in his back, or aither that or a fallin' av his breastbone, an' sure it's as like as not that Rosy was right, for sure she's been raisin' breast bones for th' last thirty years. t An' th' sorra much docthors knows afther all !

Throth, ma'am, it's my belief, an' Biddy Brady's too, that poor Paddy — God rest his sowl this blessed day ! — 'ud be here alive an' hearty now, av th' docthor had only let ould Rosy Finnegan clap a plasther av ivy laves an' goose-grace an th' small av his back ! But no ! bedad ! Docthor Joyce wouldn't, an' so among them poor Paddy Brady was kilt all out ! " Ah ! Yis. Th' docthors, wid ther new fangled ways, don't like people t' be cured so aisy. That's about th' thruth av it; but, * " Demur" in the back — i.e., lumbago. f " Falling of the breastbone." This imaginary complaint is cured in the following manner : — Some oil is burnt in a cup, and the air exhausted, and the upturned cup placed over the region of the heart, whilst the operator mutters some prayers.. Not lon°- ago a man died in the North of Ireland who had amassed a ■considerable sum of money by " raising the breastbone." faix ! it's many and many's th' fine cure I seen done an a sore eye wid th' nine blessed dawks from th' whitethorn be th' Holy Well there beyant pinted at it, in th' name av th' Blessed Thrinity !

Chapter I

It's no lie t' say Owney McGurk, of Kilscadden, was always a dacint, honest man, an' a good nabour, an' as for Mrs. McGurk, why, wasn't she wan of ould Phil Delaney's daughters, from beyant the mountains over there ? An' that's sayin' enough, so yeh see there was good blood an both sides. It was the sin o' the world whin their fine sthrappin' boy, Tim, was sint beyant the says for thryin' t' do a little bit ov distillin' unbeknownst. But, as all the nabours sed, an' shure they had a betther right t' know the ins an' outs av it than thim murtherin lawyers, it was thim that condimned Tim that disarved high hangin', for he was as dacint an' clane a boy as ivir stepped. An' more betoken he knewn the grand saycret av makin' beer from the heather, for he larnt it from his mother's third cousin, ould Nancy Doolin, the mid wife, an' she larnt it from a fairy-woman that she was brought to on bisness.

Iviry wan knows it's unlucky t' take money from the " good people," for it's shure t' turn t' laves or stones. So whin Nancy finished the bisness, an' left the fairy-woman wid as fine a garlough* as iver yeh clapped eyes on, she axed thim t' give her a saycret ; so they tould her, quite contagious-like, how t' make the beer from the heather. To be sure Tim nivir used any beer that-a-way, but he sed he cud ; so there's no knowin' what he'd be afther doin', av he was only let alone. Throth it was a black day for Mrs. McGurk an' Owney whin Tim was tuk ; for as I sed afore, he was a fine clane boy, and Brian, his brother, was a soart av quartherclift — people sed he wasn't all right in his head. He was very partial t' book-larnin', an' whin he ought t' be landin' the pratees, why, it's gommochin' * An L-ish term for a baby. wid a book he'd be.

Throth iviry wan used t' say that he was as bad as a field o' black pratees. For there 'ud be our brave Brian wid a bit o' chalk, makin' all soarts av quare curey-carey things on the sphade ; an' if any wan axed him what he was doin', he'd tell them he was makin' ponds asses snorin ; an' shure it's as plain as the nose an yer face, that no wan wid brains enough in their head t' make it ache, 'ud ivir talk sich nonsense ! Any how, there's no denyin' it, but Brian knewn plenty av hard words. An shure he used t' makepoethry, God help him! about the sun, moon, an' stars, an' the mountains, too ! bless the mark ! an' sorra lie in it, but sometimes av a fine summer's evenin', there ye'd see Brian sthretched along an' the rocks down be the say, an' he watchin' the waves comin' rumblin' an' rollin' in.

Wan evenin' I was comin' along, quite compunctous-like, an' there he was, wid the two eyes av him watchin' the wather, like a hungry pig at a pot o' stirabout. " God bless ye, Brian," sez I, but the c never a heed he tuk o' me, but kep an talkin' t' himself, an' rantin' av him about some wan he called Eddy Pus. I knewn it wasn't wan av the nabours, and I was a bit cur'ous t' know who it was ; so I sez again, " Brian, agra, who's Eddy Pus? " Och, widdyeelish ! all av' a suddint he got as bright as a new noggin, an' sez he t' me — " Eddy Pus was a larned, ould, anschint man, Mrs. Moran ; he wrote a whole lot about the sun whin it was lookin' just as it's lookin' this minit, d'ye see, wid just wan spike av its bames above the wather." " Arrah, Brian, avick ! " sez I, for yeh see I was bint an humourin' the craythur, " an' who tould ye that ?

" " I heerd it the other day whin I wint up t' the big house wid some stoak* the ginteman that's tuthorin' Masther Willie was tellin' it t' him." " It was mane av yeh t' listen t' what * A kind of seaweed, which, when dressed, is eaten with roast meat. It is somewhat of an epicures' dish, and esteemed a great luxury. people was sayin'," sez I, for Brian was a poor softy, wid not much behaviour. "Yer right there," sez he, lookin' very sorraful ; " but I'd do anythin' for the larnin'. See there, sthraight fornint yeh, Mrs. Moran, there's caves an' castles down there, an' undtber the wather, an' beautiful mermaids combin' their golden hair wid di'mond combs." Throth, I don't mind tellin' you that I was beginnin' t' be afraid av Brian, for his two eyes war burnin' like sods av turf, an' his face was gettin' iviry colour, like a bad pratee.

Howiver, as I sed afore, I was bint an' humourin' him, for I had a regard for the family, so I sez, sez I— " Brian, acushla, what's a mermaid ? " " A lovely colleen dhas," sez he, "for all the world like Miss Grace, up at the big house, wid no clothes an but her hair, an' wan ind av her is a fish." " Throth an' faith ! " sez I, but betchune you and me I was only lettin' an to be cross, " they must be very ondacint, an' not fit for an honest boy t' be spakin' to ! Did yeh ivir see wan ?" " No," sez he, " but I'm sartin Miss Grace is like wan." " Bedad, Brian McGurk," sez I, for I didn't like him t' be spakin' that-a-way av Miss Grace. " Ye'd betther not let any wan hear yeh say it ; an' as for sayin' wan ind av her is like a fish, shure there's no sinse in that, for she has as purty a face an' as purty a pair o' feet as ye'd meet wid in a day's walk."

" Why, Mrs. Moran, I didn't mane no offence ; it Avas poethry I was talkin'," sez he. " Well," sez I, " I don't purtend t' be more larned nor me aiquals ; but av that's poethry, all I can say is, that it's a powerful ondacint way t' spake av a woman." " Faix, it's as thrue as yer standin' there, Mrs. Moran, what I tould yeh about the mermaids, an' shure they do be playin' an goold harps, an' singin'. Whisht ! don't yeh hear thim roun' the point there beyant ? " " Arrah, be aisy, Brian," sez I, fit t' split wid the laughin', " shure them's the curlews! " "Not a bit av it!" sez he, quite smart; " it's the mermaids. I heerd Miss Grace singin' in a' through the windy wan day, .an' her goold curls all down her beautyful white neck, an' it was thin I thought she was like the mermaids." Well, yeh see, me back was gettin' up agin, like the feathers an a turkey's tail, at hearin' him spake that-a-way about a young lady, an' I sez — " There, yer spakin' about Miss Grace agin, an' sayin' that she has a woice like wan av thim schreechin' curlews !

" But, save us ! the crathur was listenin' to thim noisy saybirds skylarkin' roun' the p'int, jist as continted as if it was the music av Paddy Flanagan's fiddle ! an' throth, as I looked at him, I cudn't help thinkin' it was a cryin' sin t' hear a fine boy av eighteen like him spakin' such foolishness. " She's like an imp," sez he, quite sud dint. " Lord save us ! who ? " sez I. " Miss Grace, av coorse," sez he. " Grace be name, an' Grace be nathur, she goes along like an imp av the mountains." I got mad intirely now, out-an'-out. It was bad enough what he sed afore, but this was beyant the beyants, and I cudn't stand it; so I ups an' I sez — " Ye'd betther keep a civil tongue in yer head, Brian McGurk ! Miss Grace an' all belongin' t' her is good t' you an' yours. Why, Miss Grace herself begged the masther hard t' thry an' git yer brother Jim aff, an' it ill becomes yeh t' call her a divil."

" What ! " he roars ; " show me the man or mortial that sed Miss Grace was a divil, an' I'll put daylight a' through him." " Yeh sed it, yerself," sez I, as stout as I cud, for faix, I was all of a thrimble. " Yeh sed this minnit that Miss Grace was an imp, an' shure I've Father Pat Flynn's own words for it that the imps is the young divils ! " Well, will yeh b'lieve it ? The poor foolish crathur cudn't see it; and he kep' sayin' somethin' about imps an' imps ; so, bedad, I was gettin' afeard, for he was talkin' away as if he had a whole faction roun' him. So aff I wint. The very Sunda' afther, Father Pat Flynn gev out from th' althar that he wanted a boy. Shure iviry wan knows that t' be " the priest's boy " is a sitawation fit for a gintle man ! Father Pat seel the boy was t' dhrive the jauntin' car, look afther the mare, an' sarve mass ; an' for that he was t' get his lyin' an' risin', aitin' an' dhrinkin', an' four pounds a year.

If that wasn't doin' the thing dacint, why lave it there ! Aw ! more betoken, av the boy wor a janius, Father Pat 'ud give Greek an' Latin an' the use av the globes into the bargain ! Well, jist as his rivirence sed it, I seen Brian McGurk give his mother a pull be the back o' the cloak, an' whisper somethin' t' her. I was thinkin' in me own mind that gommochin' Brian 'ud be thryin' for the place, whin Father Pat sed — " I'm gad t' see yeh, Mrs. McGurk, an' I hope yer as well as I'd wish yeh." His rivirence was always a mighty pleasant spoken man. " Yis, thank yer rivirence kindly, I'm doin' bravely, sir." Yeh see, Mrs. McGurk, as I tould yeh before, kem of a dacint family, an' had manners. " Is that Brian I see behind yeh ? " sez Father Pat. "Yis, yer rivirence," sez Mrs. McGurk. " Is it thrue he's ajanius?

" sez Father Pat. " Throth, I dunno, yer rivirence," sez Mrs. McGurk ; " but he's quare." " All janiuses is," sez Father Pat. "The nabours sez he's skupid, yer rivirence," sez Mrs. McGurk. " Well, we'll ax himself," sez Father Pat. " Stan' up, Brian. Now, Brian, are yeh skupid? " " I dunno, yer rivirence," sez Brian. " More shame for yeh, thin," sez Father Pat. " How does yer head feel ? " " Jist like a well-made stack o' whate, yer rivirence," sez Brian. "I b'leeve yeh," sez Father Pat, "for there's plenty o' tatch an it." " Och, yer rivirence," sez Brian, " I was mainin' that it feels that tight-packed." " Tight-packed wid what — skupid ness is it ? " sez Father Pat. "No, yer rivirence," sez Brian. " Begorra, I'm thinkin' its top-heavy I am in regard o' 'cuteness." " Throth, Brian," sez Father Pat, shakin' his head an' lookin' very solemn-like.

" I'm afeard yer a janius." " I'm afeard so too,yer rivirence," sez Brian. " I think I'll have t' take him, an' keep an eye an him, Mrs. McGurk," sez Father Pat. " Av it's plazin' t' yer rivirence," sez Mrs. McGurk. Yeh see she had powerful ginteel manners. " I suppose yeh '11 want Latin an' Greek, an' the use av the globes in, Brian?" sez Father Pat. " Av ye plaze, sir," sez Brian ; " an' maybe yer rivirence 'ud throw in a sketch av poethry an' a taste av jomethry." " Throth, nabours, yeh war all right," sez Father Pat, t' the whole chapel ; " Brian McGurk's a janius — there's more in his head nor a curry-comb 'ud take out." Well t' make a long story short, Brian wint as the boy t' Father Pat's. An', throth, ye'd wondher how ginteel he looked in an ould black coat av his rivirence's that fitted him to an appography ; an' his mother bought him a tall hat, an' what betchune the cloth clothes an' the hat, yeh wouldn't know him from his betthers.

Chapter II

I think it was about a twelvemonth afther, come Candlemas, that I met Mrs. McGurk dhrivin' the ass's cart home from Dhrogheda fair. She an' me was always nabourly, so she gev me a lift home wid me basket, an' sez she — " Arrah, Mrs. Moran, did yeh hear the news ?" " Arrah, no ! " sez I ; " barrin' that Lanty Byrne's wife got a kitchen grate, no less ! As av the harth that was good enough for thim that wint afore her wasn't good enough for her, but she must set up wid her high falutin' ways ! " " Throth, yer right there," sez Mrs. McGurk; " but shure Avhat cud yeh expect from the likes av her? She was only a sarvint girl in Dublin, an' what cud she know about the ways av a dacint farmer's house f Why, she's always slashin' whitewash roun' the kitchen — an' the sorra worse thing she cud clo, for there's nothing whole somer nor sut ; an' shure it's no Avondher she lost her fine boy last Chrisamas, for she used t' wash him iviry mornin' in the big washin' tub."

" Och ! " sez I, " maybe she'll do betther afther a bit ; but what's yer news, Mrs. McGurk?" " It's a grate day intirely for us," sez she. " Shure Brian's such a janius that Father Pat sez we must sind him t' college, and make a priest av him ? " "Throth, I'm proud for yeh, Mrs. McGurk," sez I ; " an' Avhen did Father Pat say it?" " A' yistherday," sez she, " he kem down quite promiscus' like, an', sez he t' me, ' Mrs. McGurk,' sez he, ' I'm afeard Brian's too grate a janius intirely t' be a priest's boy.' ' It 'ud ill become the likes o' me t' say conthrairy t' yer rivirence,' sez I, ' an' I hope Brian is plazin' yer rivirence ? ' ' Yis,' sez he, ' he's well enough ; he minds his consthruin ' — whativer that is — ' an he's mindin' his book grand, but he's not mindin' my bisness. I sint him t' Bob Connor's for me boots th' other day, an' there I was waitin' for thim, mortial unaisy, for I was goin' t' christen a child for Mrs. Joyce, whin I seen Brian comin' along quiet an' aisy, readin' an ould newspaper, but the sorra pair o' boots wid him.

I threwn up the windy,' sez Father Pat, ' an' schreeched out t' him for the boots. Well, he looked at me as if he was shot; an' what d'ye think but the omadhaun was readin' the paper the boots was rowled in, and he let them slip out an' nivir heeded them. To be shure, Brian wint back, but one boot Avas soakin' in a ditch, an' Peggy Brien's childher tied a sthring t' the other, an' filled it wid mud, an' med a cart av it. Throth,' sed his rivirence, ' I was that wild that I was near makin' Brian ait them, heeltaps and all ! ' An shure, Mrs. Moran, though Brian's me own flesh an' blood, I cudn't but say he was enough to vex even a priest." "Thrue for yeh, Mrs. McGurk," sez I; " an' is that why ye're goin' to sind him t' collidge ? " " No, agra, no ! " sez Mrs. McGurk, an' wid that she pulled a lot o' papers out av her back pocket.

" But see them ? that poethry Brian med, an' its all about the ould church yard, an' the crosses, an' the saygulls, an' Miss Grace. Father Pat sez it's grand, an' he shoAved it t' the masther up at the big house, an' he's goin' to give somethin' a' tost payin' for Brian's eddication. But shure, Brian's comin' in this evenin', so yeh must come an' hear him readin' them ! " Well, av course it was only nathral I'd like to hear what Brian wrote, an' I wint home wid Mrs. McGurk, an' she med a flour cake, an' as the banes was plinty, she med some beautyful sthilk*, too ; throth, there was lashin's and lavin's, for the McGurks Avas always free-handed people. But yeh nivir saw anythin' like the grandeur of Brian ! He had a bran-new shoot av black clothes, an' a shirt as white as the dhriven snow ! * A dish composed of beans and potatoes mashed together.

" Go manee Dia in sho ! "* sez he, comin' in an' takin' off his hat, quite the gintleman. " Amin ! " sez I, for his mother was tyin' up th' ass at the back o' the house. " Good luck t' ye, Brian." " Thank yeh kindly, Mrs. Moran," sez he; " the same t' you." Afther the aitin was over, Mrs. McGurk axed Brian to give us a sketch av the poethry, an' for two full hours he rowled it out av him as 'cute as a stone furlin' clown a hill. But, saints above us ! yeh nivir heerd sich non sense ! He sed in one part that the waves down at Kilscadden Bay was like big white horses, and that he was dhressed up in fancy — in fancy, mind yeh, whatever sort av a coat that is — an' was ridin' an thim. An' wan av the ballads was called " The Lagind av Kilscadden," where the poor foolish crathur sed that he was in the churchyard Avan day, an' he seen a whole lot o' ghosts, an' they towld him a whole lot av stories about the ould towers an' the crasses, an he med poethry out o' Avhat they sed.

But it * God save all here. was all sinse to what he sed about Miss Grace ! 'Pon me conscience, av he called her a divil wanst, he did it a hundherd times. First she was a divil an the mountains, thin she was a divil an the say, an' behold yeh ! thin she was a divil up in tbe threes, and whisperin' to him ! "Arrah, Brian, jewel ! " sez I, " shure yeh hadn't the impidence t' call Miss Grace a divil up t' her face ? " " No," sez he, " I only called her an imp. It was Father Pat showed her the pomes." " An' what did she say ? " sez I. " That they were grand all out," sez he, lookin that plazed an' consaited. " Father Pat is takin' his dinner up at the big house this evenin', an' I'm t' go up an' read a new pome for Miss Grace." " Well, begorra, quolity is quare," sez I ; " av any wan called me all the clivils yer callin' Miss Grace, I wouldn't thank him for it."

That evenin' Brian Avint up t' the big house, and whin he kem back his face was that white, an' his eyes like kindled sods, an' he was all av a thrimble, that his mother wanted him t' go t' bed, an' take a bowl o' gruel with a lump o' butther in it, for he looked for all the world as av a could had got a grip av him. But he turned a deaf ear t' the mother, an' stud lanin' over the half doore, antil he seen Father Pat goin' by, an thin he follied him home. Very shortly afther, Brian wint t' col lidge, an' the day he was goin' a lot o' the nabours, meself among the rest, Avint up t' the McGurks' doore t' see him goin' ; for Micky Dempsey, Father Pat's new boy, was t' take Brian an' his box t' the railway station — an' a splendid boxful av clothes he had too, a beautiful green wan, wid an illigant double boult !

We Avar all givin' him the " God be wid yeh " — an' there were some there gev more nor that — whin who kem up but Miss Grace an' her father. Och ! but she did look purty in her grand blue frock, an' her gold curls, an' her soft face — "jist like a flower," Brian sed in wan av his pomes, an',. faix, it was the dacintest thing he ivir sed. d about her. There she was, laughin' an' smilin', wid a kind free word for iviry body, an' her blue eyes dancin' out av her head. She brought Brian some books, an' shoAved him where she wrote his name in thim ; an' I was mad wid the gommochin' fellow, for he stud wid not a word to say for himself, wid all his 'cuteness, but there he was starin' at Miss Grace as if she had horns ; an' shure, what good was all his larnin' t' him, av it didn't tache him behaviour ?

It was a mortial hard winther — that winther — throth we had weather, an' thin there was late frost in the spring that spilt the piatee crop ; an' what betchune wan thing an' another, an' the loss av two fine pigs, with the masles, poor Mrs. McGurk an' Owney found it hard enough t' do. They war desperate hard put to it, for Mrs. McGurk told me all as wan ; " But," sez she, " av we war t' starve for it, isn't it betther t' have Brian a priest ? for av we're losin' it wan way, we're gainin' it in another." Av course there was nothin' t' say agin that ; but, faix, I'm afeard there was many a time the poor McGurks was fastin' agin their will, an' they war that proud that wan cudn't well do anythin' for thim. Shure it Avud be all right av Brian was ordained afther all. But, lo and behold yeh ! wan day Father Pat got a letther t' say Brian was comin' home dying wid a decline !

He nivir was a sthrong boy, and thin he got a cough, an' stuck too close t' his books, an' betchune all poor Brian kem home t' die. For five long Aveeks there he lay an the broad av his back, talkin' so nice an' so simple-like, that there wasn't wan in the parish that wouldn't run from this to Dublin for him. Miss Grace, and iviry wan at the big house, was very good, and sint clane sheets an' wine, an' all soarts av grand aitin' an' dhrinkin' ! The nabours used t' take turns t' sit up at night, for Mrs. McGurk was ould, yeh see, an' the crathur was that dazed wid the thrubble that sorra much use she was. Meself used t' be in there night an' day, for poor Brian had a grate regard for me ; an' more betoken, he used t' rimimber me av me own fine boy that was killed at the Rooshian War. So that's how it was that I was there the evenin' Father Pat kem t' give Brian the sacrimints.

The poor boy was axin' t' see Miss Grace wanst more afore he died, so I threw an me cloak, an' wint off for her. She was standin' in the windy, smilin' an' laughin', an' talkin' t' a lot av quality ; but whin I tould her what I wanted the tears kem into her purty blue eyes, an' she just put an her hat in the hall, an' kem off wid me. An' thin, shure, poor Brian tould her out quite brave-like that he wasn't sorry he was goin', for that for he'd nivir be very happy av he was t' live, an' he tould her that the raisin he med the pomes about her was in regard av him bein' very partial t' her. "An'," sez he, "I thought may be a v I was eddicated like a gintleman, that I'd be nearer t' yeh. But somethin' tould me how foolish it was, an' I saw the thruth ; but from that out I had no heart in me at all, an' I o-ot waker an' waker until I kem t' this.

I hope I give no oflance, Miss Grace ! " Well, what d'ye think? Och! throth I'm an ould fool t' be cryin' whin I think av it now ! but purty Miss Grace stooped down, an' she kissed poor dyin' Brian's forehead, an' she said, quite soft — ■ " You never did anything to offend me, Brian ; I always admired your poetry very much, and I am very grateful to you for your love." An' thin she sat down be the bed, an' held Brian's big hand in her two little white ones, an' she kep' whisperin' t' him that she'd always look afther ould Mrs. McGurk an' Owney ; an' a lovely colour kem into his face, an' he sez t' Father Pat — " Yer rivirence, will Miss Grace get to heaven ?" Not a lie I'm tellin' whin I say ould Father Pat was cryin' like a child. How somediver he sed— " Bedad, she will, Brian ; she's only wan av the angels that's here for a little while."

That was enough for Brian, for he knew Father Pat knew for sartin, an' he closed his eyes, an', in less time nor I'm tellin' it, he wint off, quite an' aisy like a lamb. There was a grand wake, an' the funeral was wan av the biggest ivir seen in that part o' the counthry. Miss Grace, and the fine handsome gintleman she was goin' t' be married t', kem t' the funeral ; an' shure she nearly cried her purty eyes blind ; an' very respectful t' Mrs. McGurk and Owney it was too; an' she put up a tombstone over the grave, an' the writin' an' it sed Brian was a grate janius intirely.