Well,your honour,the evenin'Jim Soolivan wint away,whin the dark was closin' in,Nell Gorman,his wife,beginned to get mighty anasy in herself whin she didn't see him comin'back at all;an'she was gettin' more an'more frightful in herself every minute till the dark kem an,an'divil a taste iv her husband was coming at all at all.
'Oh!'says she,'there's no use in pur- tendin',I know he's kilt himself;he has committed infantycide an himself,'says she,'like a dissipated bliggard as he always was,'says she,'God rest his soul.Oh,thin,isn't it me an'not you,Jim Soolivan,that's the unforthunate woman,'says she,'for ain't I cryin'here,an'isn't he in heaven,the bliggard,'says she.'Oh,voh,voh,it's not at home comfortable with your wife an'family that you are,Jim Soolivan,'
says she,'but in the other world,you aumathaun,in glory wid the saints I hope,'says she.'It's I that's the unforthunate famale,' says she,'an'not yourself,Jim Soolivan,' says she.
An'this way she kep'an till mornin',cryin'and lamintin;an'wid the first light she called up all the sarvint bys,an'she tould them to go out an'to sarch every inch iv ground to find the corpse,'for I'm sure,' says she,'it's not to go hide himself he would,'says she.
Well,they went as well as they could,rummagin'through the snow,antil,at last,what should they come to,sure enough,but the corpse of a poor thravelling man,that fell over the quarry the night before by rason of the snow and some liquor he had,maybe;but,at any rate,he was as dead as a herrin',an'his face was knocked all to pieces jist like an over-boiled pitaty,glory be to God;an'divil a taste iv a nose or a chin,or a hill or a hollow from one end av his face to the other but was all as flat as a pancake.
An'he was about Jim Soolivan's size,an'dhressed out exactly the same,wid a ridin'coat an'new corderhoys;so they carried him home,an'they were all as sure as daylight it was Jim Soolivan himself,an' they were wondhering he'd do sich a dirty turn as to go kill himself for spite.
Well,your honour,they waked him as well as they could,with what neighbours they could git togither,but by rason iv the snow,there wasn't enough gothered to make much divarsion;however it was a plisint wake enough,an'the churchyard an'the priest bein'convanient,as soon as the youngsthers had their bit iv fun and divarsion out iv the corpse,they burried it without a great dale iv throuble;an'about three days afther the berrin,ould Jim Mallowney,from th'other side iv the little hill,her own cousin by the mother's side--he had a snug bit iv a farm an'a house close by,by the same token--kem walkin'in to see how she was in her health,an'he dhrew a chair,an' he sot down an'beginned to convarse her about one thing an'another,antil he got her quite an'asy into middlin'good humour,an'as soon as he seen it was time:
'I'm wondherin',says he,'Nell Gorman,sich a handsome,likely girl,id be thinkin' iv nothin'but lamintin'an'the likes,'says he,'an'lingerin'away her days without any consolation,or gettin'a husband,'says he.
'Oh,'says she,'isn't it only three days since I burried the poor man,'says she,'an' isn't it rather soon to be talkin iv marryin' agin?'
'Divil a taste,'says he,'three days is jist the time to a minute for cryin'afther a husband,an'there's no occasion in life to be keepin'it up,'says he;'an'besides all that,' says he,'Shrovetide is almost over,an'if you don't be sturrin'yourself an'lookin' about you,you'll be late,'says he,'for this year at any rate,an'that's twelve months lost;an'who's to look afther the farm all that time,'says he,'an'to keep the men to their work?'says he.
'It's thrue for you,Jim Mallowney,'says she,'but I'm afeard the neighbours will be all talkin'about it,'says she.
'Divil's cure to the word,'says he.
'An'who would you advise?'says she.
'Young Andy Curtis is the boy,'says he.
'He's a likely boy in himself,'says she.
'An'as handy a gossoon as is out,' says he.
'Well,thin,Jim Mallowney,'says she,'here's my hand,an'you may be talkin' to Andy Curtis,an'if he's willin'I'm agreeble--is that enough?'says she.
So with that he made off with himself straight to Andy Curtis;an'before three days more was past,the weddin'kem an,an'
Nell Gorman an'Andy Curtis was married as complate as possible;an'if the wake was plisint the weddin'was tin times as agreeble,an'all the neighbours that could make their way to it was there,an'there was three fiddlers an'lots iv pipers,an' ould Connor Shamus the piper himself was in it--by the same token it was the last weddin'he ever played music at,for the next mornin',whin he was goin'home,bein'mighty hearty an'plisint in himself,he was smothered in the snow,undher the ould castle;an'by my sowl he was a sore loss to the bys an'girls twenty miles round,for he was the illigantest piper,barrin'the liquor alone,that ever worked a bellas.
Corney,pronounced Kurny,is just as much used in the South,as the short name for Cornelius.
Well,a week passed over smart enough,an'Nell an'her new husband was mighty well continted with one another,for it was too soon for her to begin to regulate him the way she used with poor Jim Soolivan,so they wor comfortable enough;but this was too good to last,for the thaw kem an,an'you may be sure Jim Soolivan didn't lose a minute's time as soon as the heavy dhrift iv snow was melted enough between him and home to let him pass,for he didn't hear a word iv news from home sinst he lift it,by rason that no one,good nor bad,could thravel at all,with the way the snow was dhrifted.
So one night,when Nell Gorman an'her new husband,Andy Curtis,was snug an' warm in bed,an'fast asleep,an'everything quite,who should come to the door,sure enough,but Jim Soolivan himself,an'he beginned flakin'the door wid a big blackthorn stick he had,an'roarin'out like the divil to open the door,for he had a dhrop taken.
'What the divil's the matther?'says Andy Curtis,wakenin'out iv his sleep.
