"'Arrah now,' says he, 'Kathleen, come along out o' that now, fur I've got ye safe an' sound.'

"They answered him niver a word, but he heard a noise that was the saint turnin' over on his bed bein' onaisey in his slape.

"'Come along out o' that,' he repaited; 'an' you, Tim Maccarty, if ye come out, ye may go back to yer ditchin', but if ye wait fur me to fetch ye, the crows 'ull be atin' ye at sunrise. Shtrike a light,' says he. So they did, an' looked in an' saw Tim an' Kathleen, wan on aitch side o' the althar, holdin' wid all their mights to the crass that was on it.

"'Dhrag thim out av it,' says Lord Robert, an' the min went in, but afore they come near thim, Saint Tigernach shtopped shnorin', bein' wakened wid the light an' jabberin', an' shtud up on the flure.

"'Howld on now,' says the blessed saint, 'phat's the matther here? Phat's all this murtherin' noise about?' says he.

"Lord Robert's min all dhrew back, for there was a power o' fear av the saint in the county, an' Lord Robert undhertuk to axplain that the girl was a sarvint av his that run away wid that thafe av a ditcher, but Saint Tigernach seen through the whole thrick at wanst.



"'Lave aff,' says he. 'Don't offer fur to thrape thim lies on me. Pack aff wid yer murtherers, or it's the curse ye'll get afore ye can count yer fingers,' an' wid that all the min went out, an' Lord Robert afther thim, an' all he cud say 'udn't pervail on the sojers to go back afther the girl.

"'No, yer Anner,' says they to him; 'we ate yer Anner's mate, an' dhrink yer Anner's dhrink, an' 'ull do yer Anner's biddin' in all that's right. We're parfectly willin' to wait till mornin' an' murther the ditcher an' shtale the girl whin they come out an' get away from the saint, but he musn't find it out. It's riskin' too much. Begorra, we've got sowls to save,' says they, so they all got on their horses an' shtarted back to the cassel.

"Lord Robert folly'd thim a bit, but the avil heart av him was so set on Kathleen that he cudn't bear the thought av lettin' her go. So whin he got to the turn av the road, 'T'underation,' says he, ''t is the wooden head that's set on me showldhers, that I didn't think av the witch afore.'

"Ye see, in the break av the mountains beyant the mill, where the rath is, there was in thim times the cabin av a great witch. 'T was a dale av avil she done the County Clare wid shtorms an' rainy sayzons an' cows lavin' aff their milk, an' she'd a been dhrownded long afore, but fur fear av the divil, her masther, that was at her elbow, whinever she'd crook her finger. So to her Lord Robert wint, an' gev a rap on the dure, an' in. There she sat wid a row av black cats on aitch side, an' the full av a shkillet av sarpints a-shtewin' on the fire. He knew her well, fur she'd done jobs fur him afore, so he made bowld to shtate his arriant widout so much as sayin' good day to ye. The owld fagot made a charm to call her masther, an' that minnit he was shtandin' be her side, bowin' an' schrapin' an' shmilin' like a gintleman come to tay. He an' Lord Robert fell to an' had a power av discoorse on the bargain, fur Robert was a sharp wan an' wanted the conthract onsartain-like, hopin' to chate the divil at the end, as we all do, be the help av God, while Satan thried to make it shtronger than a tinant's lace. Afther a dale av palatherin', they aggrade that the divil was to do all that Lord Robert axed him fur twinty years, an' then to have him sowl an' body; but if he failed, there was an end av the bargain. But there was a long face on the owld felly whin the first thing he was bid to do was to bring Kathleen out o' the cave an' carry her to the cassel.

"'By Jayminny,' says Satan, 'it's no aisey job fur to be takin' her from the power av a great saint like him,' a-scratchin' his head. 'But come on, we'll thry.'



"So the three av thim mounted on the wan horse, Lord Robert in the saddle, the divil behind, an' the witch in front av him, an' away like the wind to the cave. Whin they got to the turn o' the hill, they got aff an' hid in the bushes bechune the cave an' the shpring, bekase, as Satan axplained to Lord Robert, ivery night, just at midnight, the saint wint to get him a dhrink av wather, bein' dhry wid the devotions, an' 'ud bring the full av a bucket back wid him.

"'We'll shtop him be the shpring,' says the divil, 'wid the witch, an' you an' me'ull shtale the girl while he's talkin'.

"So while the clock was shtrikin' fur twilve, out come the saint wid the wather-bucket an' shtarted to the shpring. Whin he got there an' was takin' his dhrink, up comes the witch an' begins tellin' him av a son she had (she was purtindin', ye ondhershtand, an' lyin' to him) that was as lazy as a car-horse an' as much in the way as a sore thumb, an' axin' the saint's advice phat to do wid him, while Satan an' Lord Robert ran into the cave. The divil picked up Kathleen in his arrums, but he darn't have done that same, only she was on the other side av the cave an' away from the althar, but Tim was shtandin' by it, an' shtarted out wid her kickin' an' schraichin'. Tim ran to grip him, but Satan tossed him back like a ball an' he fell on the flure.

"'Howld on till I shtick him,' says Lord Robert, pullin' out his soord.

"'Come on, ye bosthoon,' says Satan to him. 'Sure the saint 'ull be on us if we don't get away quick,' an' bedad, as he said thim words, the dure opened, an' in come Saint Tigernach wid a bucket av wather on his arrum an' in a hurry, fur he misthrusted something.

"'God's presince be about us,' says the blessed saint, whin he saw the divil, an' the turkey-bumps begun to raise on his blessed back an' the shweat a-comin' on his face, fur he knewn Satan well enough, an' consaved the owld felly had come fur himself be razon av a bit o' mate he ate that day, it bein' av a Friday; axceptin' he didn't ate the mate but only tasted it an' then spit it out agin to settle a quarl bechune a butcher an' a woman that bought the mate an' said it was bad, only he was afeared Satan didn't see him when he sput it out agin. 'God's presince be about us,' says the saint, a-crossin' himself as fast as he cud. In a minnit though, he seen it wasn't him, but Kathleen, that was in it, an' let go the wather an' caught the blessed crass that was hangin' on him wid his right hand an' gripped Satan be the throat wid his lift, a-pushin' the crass in his face.

"The divil dhropped Kathleen like it was a bag av male she was, an' she rolled over an' over on the flure like a worrum till she raiched the althar an' stuck to it as tight as the bark on a tree. An' a fine thing it was to see the inimy av our sowls a-lyin' there trimblin', wid the saint's fut on his neck.

"'Glory be to God,' says the saint. 'Lie you there till I make an example av ye,' says he, an' turned to look fur Lord Robert, bekase he knewn the two o' thim 'ud be in it. But the Sassenagh naded no invitation to be walkin' aff wid himself, but whin he seen phat come to the divil, he run away wid all the legs he had, an' the witch wid him, an' Tim afther thim wid a whoop an' a fishtful av shtones. But they left him complately an' got away disconsarted, an' Tim come back.

"'Raise up,' says Saint Tigernach to the divil, 'an' shtand in the corner,' makin' the blessed sign on the ground afore him. 'I'm afther marryin' these two at wanst, widout fee or license, an' you shall be the witness.'

"So he married thim there, while the divil looked on. Faix, it's no lie I'm tellin' ye; it's not the onliest marryin' the divil's been at, but he's not aften seen at thim when he's in as low sper'ts as he was at that. But it was so that they were married wid Satan fur a witness, an' some says the saint thransported thim to Kerry through the air, but 't isn't meself that belaves that same, but that they walked to Kilrush an' wint to Kerry in a fisherman's boat.

"Afther they'd shtarted, the saint turns to Satan an' says, 'No more av yer thricks wid them two, me fine felly, fur I mane to give you a job that'll kape ye out av mischief fur wan time at laste,' fur he was mightily vexed wid him a-comin' that-a-way right into his cave the same as if the place belonged to him.

"'Go you to work,' says he, 'an' put yer face on the rock over the shpring, so that as long as the mountain shtands min can come an' see phat sort av a dirthy lookin' baste ye are.'

"So Satan wint out an' looked up at the rock, shmilin', as fur to say that was no great matther, an' whin the blessed man seen the grin that was on him, he says, 'None av yer inchantmints will I have at all, at all. It's honest work ye'll do, an' be the same token, here's me own hammer an' chisel that ye'll take,' an' wid that the divil looked mighty sarious, an' left aff grinnin' for he parsaived the clift was granite.

"'Sure it's jokin' yer Riverince is,' says he, 'ye don't mane it. Sorra the harder bit av shtone bechuxt this an' Donegal,' an' it was thrue for him, fur he knewn the coast well.

"'Bad luck to the taste av a lie's in it,' says the saint. 'So take yer waypons an' go at it, owld Buck-an'-Whey, fur the sooner ye begin, the quicker ye'll be done, an' the shtone won't soften be yer watin'. Mind ye kape a civil tongue in yer head while ye're at the job, or it'll be a holiday to the wan I'll find ye,' says he, lookin' at him very fierce.

"So wid great displazemint, Satan tuk the hammer an' chisel, an' climbed up an' wint to work a cuttin' his own face on the shtone, an' it was as hard as iron it was, an whin he'd hit it a couple av cracks, he shtopped an' shuck his head an' thin scratched over his year wid the chisel an' looked round at the saint as fur to say somethin', but the blessed saint looked at him agin so fayroshus, that he made no raimark at all, but turned back to the clift quick an' begun to hammer away in airnest till the shweat shtud on his haythenish face like the dhrops on a wather-jug.

"On the next day, Lord Robert thought he'd call the owld Inimy, an' remind him that, bein' as he'd failed to get Kathleen, their bargain was aff. So he made the charm Satan gev him, but he didn't come fur anny thrial he'd make.

"'Bad scran to the Imp,' says he. 'Sure he must be mighty busy or maybe he's forgot entirely.'

"So he out an' wint to see the witch, but she wasn't in, an' while he was waitin' for her, bein' not far away from the saint's cave, he thought he'd have a peep, an' see if Tim an' Kathleen were shtill there. So he crawled over the top o' the hill beyant the cave like the sarpint that he was, an' whin he come down a little, he seen the owld Pooka on the clift, wid the hammer in wan hand an' the chisel in the other a poundin' away at the rock an' hangin' on be his tail to a tree. Lord Robert thought the eyes 'ud lave his head, fur he seen it was the divil sure enough, but he cudn't rightly make out phat he was doin'. So he crawled down till he seen, an' thin, whin he undhershtood, he riz an' come an' took a sate on a big shtone ferninst the clift, a shlappin' his legs wid his hands, an' roarin' an' the wather bilin' out av his eyes wid laughin'.

"'Hilloo Nickey,' says he, when he'd got his breath agin an' cud shpake. 'Is it yerself that's in it?' Mind the impidince av him, shpakin' that familiar to the inimy av our sowls, but faix, he'd a tongue like a jewsharp, an' cud use it too.

"'Kape from me,' says Satan to him agin, as crass as two shticks, an' widout turnin' his head fur to raigard him. 'Lave me! Begorra, I'll wipe the clift aff wid yer carkidge if ye come anny closter,' says he.

"'A-a-a-h, woorroo, now. Aisey, ye desayvin' owld blaggard,' says Lord Robert, as bowld as a ram, fur he knewn that Satan daren't lave the job to come at him. 'Will ye kape yer timper? Sure ye haven't the manners av a goat, to be shpakin' to a gintleman like that. I've just come to tell ye that bein' ye failed, our bargain 's aff,' says he.

"'Out wid ye,' says the divil, turnin' half round an' howldin' be wan hand to the big shtone nose he'd just done, an' shakin' the other fist wid the chisel in it at Lord Robert. 'D' ye think I want to be aggervated wid the likes av ye, ye whey-faced shpalpeen, an' me losin' the whole day, an' business pressin' at this saison, an' breakin' me back on the job, an' me fingers sore wid the chisel, an' me tail shkinned wid howldin' on? Bad luck to the shtone, it's harder than a Scotchman's head, it is, so it is,' says he, turnin' back agin when he seen the saint at the dure av the cave. An' thin he begun a peckin' away at the clift fur dear life, shwearin' to himself, so the saint cudn't hear him, every time he give his knuckles an onlucky crack wid the hammer.

"'Ye're not worth the throuble,' says he to Lord Robert; he was that full av rage he cudn't howld in. 'It's a paltherin' gossoon I was fur thriflin' wid ye whin I was sure av ye annyhow.'

"'Yer a liar,' says Lord Robert, 'ye desaivin' nagurly Haythen. If ye was sure o' me phat did ye want to make a bargain fur?'

"'Yer another,' says Satan. 'Isn't a sparrer in yer hand betther than a goose on a shtring?'

"So they were goin' on wid the blaggardin' match, whin the blessed saint, that come out whin he heard thim begin, an' thin set on the dure a-watchin', to see that owld Nick didn't schamp the job, interfared.

"'Howld yer pace, Satan, an' kape at yer work,' says he. 'An' for you, ye blatherin', milk-faced villin, wid the heart as black as a crow, walk aff wid ye an' go down on yer hard-hearted onbelavin' knees, or it's no good 'ull come o' ye.' An' so he did.

"Do I belave the shtory? Troth, I dunno. It's quare things happened in them owld days, an' there's the face on the clift as ugly as the divil cud be an' the hammer an' chisel are in the church an' phat betther proof cud ye ax?

"Phat come av the lovers? No more do I know that, barrin' they grew owld an' shtayed poor an' forgot the shpring-time av youth in the winter av age, but if they lived a hunderd years, they niver forgot the marryin' in the saint's cave, wid the black face av the Avil Wan lookin' on from the dark corner."





THE DEFEAT OF THE WIDOWS.



When superstitions have not yet been banished from any other part of the world it is not wonderful that they should still be found in the country districts of Ireland, rural life being especially favorable to the perpetuation of old ways of living and modes of thought, since in an agricultural district less change takes place in a century than may, in a city, be observed in a single decade. Country people preserve their old legends with their antique styles of apparel, and thus the relics of the pagan ages of Ireland have come down from father to son, altered and adapted to the changes in the country and its population. Thus, for instance, the old-fashioned witch is no longer found in any part of Ireland, her memory lingering only as a tradition, but her modern successor is frequently met with, and in many parishes a retired hovel in a secluded lane is a favorite resort of the neighboring peasants, for it is the home of the Pishogue, or wise woman, who collects herbs, and, in her way, doctors her patients, sometimes with simple medicinal remedies, sometimes with charms, according to their gullibility and the nature of their ailments.

Not far from Ballinahinch, a fishing village on Birterbuy Bay, in the County Galway, and in the most lonely valley of the neighborhood, there dwells one of these wise women who supplant the ancient witches. The hovel which shelters her bears every indication of wretched poverty; the floor is mud, the smoke escapes through a hole in the thatch in default of a chimney; the bed is a scanty heap of straw in the corner, and two rude shelves, bearing a small assortment of cracked jars and broken bottles, constitute Moll's stock in trade.

The misery of her household surroundings, however, furnished to the minds of her patients no argument against the efficiency of her remedies, Moll being commonly believed to have "a power av goold," though no one had ever seen any portion thereof. But with all her reputed riches she had no fear of robbers, for "she could aisily do for thim did they but come as many as the shtraws in the thatch," and would-be robbers, no doubt understanding that fact, prudently consulted their own safety by staying away from the vicinity of her cabin.

"Owld Moll," as she was known, was a power in the parish, and her help was sought in many emergencies. Did a cow go dry, Moll knew the reason and might possibly remove the spell; if a baby fell ill, Moll had an explanation of its ailment, and could tell at a glance whether the little one was or was not affected by the evil eye of a secret enemy. If a pig was stolen, she was shrewd in her conjectures as to the direction its wrathful owner must take in the search. But her forte lay in bringing about love-matches. Many were the charms at her command for this purpose, and equally numerous the successes with which she was accredited. Some particulars of her doings in this direction were furnished by Jerry Magwire, a jolly car-man of Galway, who had himself been benefited by her services.

"Sure I was married meself be her manes," stated Jerry, "an' this is the way it was. Forty-nine years ago come next Mickelmas, I was a good-lookin' young felly, wid a nate cabin on the road from Ballinasloe to Ballinamore, havin' a fine car an' a mare an' her colt, that was as good as two horses whin the colt grew up. I was afther payin' coort to Dora O'Callighan, that was the dawther av Misther O'Callighan that lived in the County Galway, an', be the same token, was a fine man. In thim times I used be comin' over here twict or three times a year wid a bagman, commercial thraveller, you'd call him, an' I heard say av Owld Moll, an' she wasn't owld thin, an' the next time I come, I wint to her an' got an inchantmint. Faix, some av it is gone from me, but I mind that I was to change me garthers, an' tie on me thumb a bit o' bark she gev me, an' go to the churchyard on Halloween, an' take the first chilla-ca-pooka (snail) I found on a tombshtone, an' begob, it was that same job that was like to be the death o' me, it bein' dark an' I bendin' to look clost, a hare jumped in me face from undher the shtone. 'Jagers,' says I, an' me fallin' on me back on the airth an' the life lavin' me. 'Presince o' God be about me,' says I, for I knewn the inchantmint wasn't right, no more I oughtn't to be at it, but the hare was skairt like meself an' run, an' I found the shnail an' run too wid the shweat pourin' aff me face in shtrames.

"So I put the shnail in a plate that I covered wid another, an' av the Sunday, I opened it fur to see phat letters it writ, an' bad luck to the wan o' thim cud I rade at all, fur in thim days I cudn't tell A from any other letther. I tuk the plate to Misther O'Callighan, fur he was a fine scholar an' cud rade both books an' writin', an' axed him phat the letters was.

"'A-a-ah, ye ignerant gommoch,' says he to me, 'yer head's as empty as a drum. Sure here's no writin' at all, only marks that the shnail's afther makin' an' it crawlin' on the plate.'

"So I axplained the inchantmint to him, an' he looked a little closter, an' thin jumped wid shurprise.

"'Oh,' says he. 'Is that thrue?' says he. 'Ye must axqueeze me, Misther Magwire. Sure the shnails does n't write a good hand, an' I'm an owld man an' me eyes dim, but I see it betther now. Faith, the first letter's a D,' says he, an' thin he shtudied awhile. 'An' the next is a O, an' thin there's a C,' says he, 'only the D an' the C is bigger than the O, an' that's all the letters there is,' says he.

"'An' phat does thim letters shpell?' says I, bekase I did n't know.

"'Ah, bad scran to 'em,' says he; 'there's thim cows in me field agin,' says he. 'Ax Dora, here she comes,' an' away he wint as she come in, an' I axed her phat D. O. C. shpelt; an' she towld me her name, an' I go bail she was surprised to find the shnail had writ thim letters on the plate, so we marr'd the next Sunday.

"But Owld Moll is a knowledgeable woman an' has a power av shpells an' charms. There's Tim Gallagher, him as dhrives the public car out o' Galway, he's bought his luck av her be the month, fur nigh on twinty year, barrin' wan month, that he forgot, an' that time he shpilt his load in the ditch an' kilt a horse, bein' too dhrunk to dhrive.

"Whin me dawther Dora, that was named afther her mother, was ill afther she'd been to the dance, whin O'Hoolighan's Peggy was married to Paddy Noonan (she danced too hard in the cabin an' come home in the rain), me owld woman wint to Moll an' found that Dora had been cast wid an avil eye. So she gev her a tay to dhrink an' a charm to wear agin it, an' afther she'd dhrunk the tay an' put on the charm the faver lift her, an' she was well entirely.



AN' PHAT DOES THIM LETTERS SHPELL?

"Sure Moll towld me wan magpie manes sorrow, two manes luck, three manes a weddin', an' four manes death; an' didn't I see four o' thim the day o' the fair in Ennis whin O'Dougherty was laid out? An' whin O'Riley cut his arrum wid a bill-hook, an' the blood was runnin', didn't she tie a shtring on the arrum an' dip a raven's feather into the blood av a black cat's tail, an' shtop the bleedin'? An' didn't she bid me take care o' meself the day I met a red-headed woman afore dinner, an' it wasn't six months till I met the woman in the mornin', it a-rainin' an' ivery dhrop the full o' yer hat, an' me top-coat at home, an' that same night was I tuk wid the roomytics an' didn't shtir a toe fur a fortnight. Faix, she's an owld wan is Moll; phat she can't do isn't worth thryin'. If she goes fur to make a match, all the fathers in Ireland cudn't purvint it, an' it's no use o' their settin' theirselves agin her, fur her head's as long as a summer day an' as hard as a shillalee.

"Did iver ye hear how she got a husband for owld Miss Rooney, the same that married Misther Dooley that kapes the Aygle Inn in Lisdoon Varna, an' tuk him clane away from the Widdy Mulligan an' two more widdys that were comin' down upon him like kites on a young rabbit?

"Well, it's a mighty improvin' shtory, fur it shows that widdys can be baten whin they're afther a husband, that some doesn't belave, but they do say it takes a witch, the divil, an' an owld maid to do it, an' some think that all o' thim isn't aiquel to a widdy, aven if there's three o' thim an' but wan av her.

"The razon av it is this. Widdy wimmin are like lobsthers, whin they wanst ketch holt, begob, they've no consate av lettin' go at all, but will shtick to ye tighter than a toe-nail, till ye've aither to marry thim or murther thim, that's the wan thing in the end; fur if ye marry thim ye're talked to death, an' if ye murther thim ye 're only dacintly hanged out o' the front dure o' the jail. Whin they're afther a husband, they're as busy as owld Nick, an' as much in airnest as a dog in purshoot av a flea. More-be-token, they're always lookin' fur the proper man, an' if they see wan that they think will shuit, bedad, they go afther him as strait as an arrer, an' if he doesn't take the alarum an' run like a shape-thief, the widdy 'ull have him afore the althar an' married fast an' tight while he'd be sayin' a Craydo.

"They know so much be wan axpayrience av marryin', that, barrin' it's a widdy man that's in it, an' he knows as much as thimselves, they'll do for him at wanst, bekase it's well undhershtood that a bach'ler, aither young or owld, has as much show av outshtrappin' a widdy as a mouse agin a weasel.

"Now, this Misther Dooley was an owld bach'ler, nigh on five an' thirty, an' about fifteen years ago, come next Advint, he come from Cork wid a bit o' money, an' tuk the farm beyant Misther McCoole's on the lift as ye come out o' Galway. He wasn't a bad lookin' felly, an' liked the ladies, an' the first time he was in chapel afther takin' the farm, aitch widdy an' owld maid set the two eyes av her on him, an' the Widdy Mulligan says to herself, says she, 'Faix, that's just the man to take the place av me dear Dinnis,' fur, ye see, the widdys always do spake that-a-way av their husbands, a-givin' thim the good word afther they're dead, so as to make up fur the tongue lashin's they give 'em whin they're alive. It's quare, so it is, phat widdys are like. Whin ye see a widdy at the wake schraimin' fit to shplit yer head wid the noise, an' flingin' herself acrass the grave at the berryin' like it was a bag o' male she was, an' thin spakin' all the time av 'me poor dear hushband,' I go bail they lived together as paceful as a barrel full o' cats an' dogs; no more is it sorrow that's in it, but raimorse that's tarin' at her, an' the shquailin' an' kickin' is beways av a pinnance fur the gostherin' she done him whin he was livin', fur the more there's in a jug, the less noise it makes runnin' out, an' whin ye've a heavy load to carry, ye nade all yer breath, an' so have none to waste tellin' how it's breakin' yer back.



"So it was wid the Widdy Mulligan, that kept the Shamrock Inn, for her Dinnis was a little ottomy av a gossoon, an' her the full av a dure, an' the arrum on her like a smith an' the fut like a leg o' mutton. Och, she was big enough thin, but she's a horse entirely now, wid the walk av a duck, an' the cheeks av her shakin' like a bowl av shtirabout whin she goes. Her poor Dinnis dar n't say his sowl belonged to him, but was conthrolled be her, an' they do say his last words were, 'I'll have pace,' that was phat he niver had afther he married her, fur she was wan that 'ud be shmilin' an' shmilin' an' the tongue av her like a razer. She'd a good bit o' property in the inn, siven beds in the house fur thravellers, an' six childher, the oldest nigh onto twelve, an' from him on down in reg'lar steps like thim in front o' the coort-house.



"Now, a bit up the shtrate from the Shamrock there was a little shop kept be Missis O'Donnell, the widdy av Tim O'Donnell, that died o' bein' mortified in his legs that broke be his fallin' aff his horse wan night whin he was comin' back from Athlone, where he'd been to a fair. Missis O'Donnell was a wapin' widdy, that's got eyes like a hydrant, where ye can turn on the wather whin ye plaze. Begorra, thim's the widdys that 'ull do fur anny man, fur no more can ye tell phat's in their minds be lookin' at their faces than phat kind av close they've got on be lookin' at their shadders, an' whin they corner a man that's tinder-hearted, an' give a shy look at him up out o' their eyes, an' thin look down an' sind two or three dhrops o' wather from undher their eye-lashers, the only salvation fur him is to get up an' run like it was a bag o' gunpowdher she was. So Missis O'Donnell, whin she seen Misther Dooley, tuk the same notion into her head that the Widdy Mulligan did, fur she'd two childher, a boy an' a gurrul, that were growin' up, an' the shop wasn't payin' well.

"There was another widdy in it, the Widdy McMurthry, that aftherwards married a sargeant av the polis, an' lives in Limerick. She was wan o' thim frishky widdys that shtruts an' wears fine close an' puts on more airs than a paycock. She was a fine-lookin' woman thim times, an' had money in plinty that she got be marryin' McMurthry, that was owld enough to be a father to her an' died o' dhrinkin' too much whishkey at first, an' thin too much sulphur-wather at Lisdoon Varna to set him right agin. She was always ready wid an answer to ye, fur it was quick witted she was, wid slathers o' talk that didn't mane annything, an' a giggle that she didn't nade to hunt fur whin she wanted it to make a show wid. An' she'd a dawther that was a fine child, about siventeen, a good dale like her mother.

"Now, Misther Dooley had a kind heart in his body fur wimmin in gineral, an' as he liked a bit o' chaff wid thim on all occashuns, he wasn't long in gettin' acquainted wid all the wimmin o' the parish, an' was well liked be thim, an', be the same token, wasn't be the men, fur men, be nacher, doesn't like a woman's man anny more than wimmin like a men's woman. But, afther a bit, he begun to centher himself on the three widdys, an' sorra the day' ud go by whin he come to town but phat he'd give wan or another o' thim a pace av his comp'ny that was very plazin' to thim. Bedad, he done that same very well, for he made a round av it for to kape thim in suspince. He'd set in the ale room o' the Shamrock an hour in the afthernoon an' chat wid the Widdy Mulligan as she was sarvin' the dhrink, an' shtop in the Widdy O'Donnell's shop as he was goin' by, to get a thrifle or a bit av shwates an' give to her childher beways av a complimint, an' thin go to Missis McMurthry's to tay, an' so got on well wid thim all. An' it's me belafe he'd be doin' that same to this blessed day only that the widdys begun to be pressin' as not likin' fur to wait anny longer. Fur, mind ye, a widdy's not like a young wan that'll wait fur ye to spake, an' if ye don't do it, 'ull go on foriver, or till she gets tired av waitin' an' takes some wan else that does spake, widout sayin' a word to ye at all; but the widdy 'ull be hintin' an' hintin', an' her hints 'ull be as shtrong as a donkey's kick, so that the head o' ye has to be harder than a pavin'-shtone if ye don't undhershtand, an' ye've got to have more impidince than a monkey if ye don't spake up an' say something about marryin'.

"Well, as I was afther sayin', the widdys begun to be pressin' him clost: the Widdy Mulligan tellin' him how good her business was an' phat a savin' there'd be if a farm an' a public were put together; the Widdy O'Donnell a-lookin' at him out av her tears an' sighin' an' tellin' him how lonely he must be out on a farm an' nobody but a man wid him in the house, fur she was lonesome in town, an' it wasn't natheral at all, so it wasn't, fur aither man or woman to be alone; an' the Widdy McMurthry a palatherin' to him that if he'd a fine, good-lookin' woman that loved him, he'd be a betther man an' a changed man entirely. So they wint on, the widdys a-comin' at him, an' he thryin' to kape wid thim all, as he might have knewn he couldn't do (barrin' he married the three o' thim like a Turk), until aitch wan got to undhershtand, be phat he said to her, that he was goin' to marry her, an' the minnit they got this in their heads, aitch begged him that he'd shtay away from the other two, fur aitch knewn he wint to see thim all. By jayminy, it bothered him thin, fur he liked to talk to thim all aiquelly, an' didn't want to confine his agrayble comp'ny to anny wan o' thim. So he got out av it thish-a-way. He promised the Widdy McMurthry that he'd not go to the Shamrock more than wanst in the week, nor into the Widdy O'Donnell's barrin' he naded salt fur his cow; an' said to the Widdy Mulligan that he'd not more than spake to Missis O'Donnell whin he wint in, an' that he'd go no more at all to Missis McMurthry's; an' he towld Missis O'Donnell that whin he wint to the Shamrock he'd get his sup an' thin lave at wanst, an' not go to the Widdy McMurthry's axceptin' whin his horse wanted to be shod, the blacksmith's bein' ferninst her dure that it 'ud be convaynient fur him to wait at. So he shmiled wid himself thinkin' he'd done thim complately, an' made up his mind that whin his pitaties were dug he'd give up the farm an' get over into County Clare, away from the widdys.

"But thim that think widdys are fools are desaved entirely, an' so was Misther Dooley, fur instead av his throubles bein' inded, begob, they were just begun. Ivery time he wint into the Shamrock Missis O'Donnell heard av it an' raymonshtrated wid him, an' 'ud cry at him beways it was dhrinkin' himself to death he was; afther lavin' the Shamrock, the Widdy Mulligan 'ud set wan av her boys to watch him up the strate an' see if he shtopped in the shop. Av coorse he cudn't go by, an' whin he come agin, the Widdy Mulligan 'ud gosther him about it, an' thin he'd promise not to do it agin. No more cud he go in the Widdy O'Donnell's shop widout meetin' Missis McMurthry's dawther that was always shtreelin' on the strate, an' thin her mother 'ud say to him it was a power o' salt his cow was atin', an' the Widdy O'Donnell towld him his horse must be an axpensive baste fur to nade so much shooin'.

"Thin he'd tell thim a lot o' lies that they purtinded to belave an' didn't, bekase they're such desavers thimselves that it isn't aisey fur to do thim, but Dooley begun to think if it got anny hotter fur him he'd lave the pitaties to the widdys to divide bechune thim as a raytribution fur the loss av himself, an' go to Clare widout delay.

"While he'd this bother on him he got to know owld Miss Rooney, that lived wid her mother an' father on the farm next but wan to his own, but on the other side o' the way, an' the manes be which he got to know her was this. Wan mornin', whin Dooley's man, Paddy, wint to milk the cow, bad scran to the dhrop she'd to shpare, an' he pullin' an' pullin', like it was ringin' the chapel bell he was, an' she kickin', an' no milk comin', faix not as much as 'ud blind the eye av a midge. So he wint an' towld Misther Dooley.

"'I can get no milk,' says he. 'Begorra the cow's as dhry as a fiddler's troat,' says he.

"'Musha, thin,' says Misther Dooley, 'it's the lazy omadhawn ye are. I don't belave it. Can ye milk at all?' says he.

"'I can,' says Paddy, 'as well as a calf,' says he. 'But phat's the use ov pullin'? Ye'd get the same quantity from a rope,' says he.

"So Dooley wint out an' thried himself an' didn't get as much as a shmell of milk.

"'Phat's the matther wid the baste?' says he, 'an' her on the grass from sun to sun.'

"'Be jakers,' says Paddy, 'it's my consate that she's bewitched.'

"'It's thrue fur ye,' says Dooley, as the like was aften knewn. 'Go you to Misther Rooney's wid the pail an' get milk fur the calf, an' ax if there's a Pishogue hereabouts.'

"So Paddy wint an' come back sayin' that the young lady towld him there was.

"'So there's a young lady in it,' thinks Dooley. Faix, the love av coortin' was shtrong on him. 'Did ye ax her how to raich the woman?'

"'Bedad, I didn't. I forgot,' says Paddy.

"'That's yerself entirely,' says Dooley to him agin. 'I'd betther thrust me arriants to a four-legged jackass as to wan wid two. He'd go twict as fast an' remimber as much. I'll go meself,' says he, only wantin' an axcuse, an' so he did. He found Miss Rooney thried to be plazin', an' it bein' convainient, he wint agin, an' so it was ivery day whin he'd go fur the calf's milk he'd have a chat wid her, an' sometimes come over in the avenin', bekase it wasn't healthy fur him in town just thin.

"But he wint to Owld Moll about the cow, an' the charm she gev him soon made the baste all right agin, but, be that time, he'd got used to goin' to Rooney's an' liked it betther than the town, bekase whinever he wint to town he had to make so many axcuses he was afeared the widdys 'ud ketch him in a lie.

"So he shtayed at home most times and wint over to Rooney's the rest, fur it wasn't a bad job at all, though she was about one an' forty, an' had give up the fight fur a husband an' so saiced strugglin'. As long as they've anny hope, owld maids are the most praypostherous craythers alive, fur they'll fit thimselves wid the thrappin's av a young gurrul an' look as onaisey in thim as a boy wid his father's britches on. But whin they've consinted to the sitiwation an' saiced to struggle, thin they begin to be happy an' enjoy life a bit, but there's no aise in the worruld fur thim till thin. Now Miss Rooney had gev up the contist an' plasthered her hair down on aitch side av her face so smooth ye'd shwear it was ironed it was, an' begun to take the worruld aisey.

"But there's thim that says an owld maid niver does give up her hope, only lets on to be continted so as to lay in amboosh fur anny onsuspishus man that happens to shtray along, an' faix, it looks that-a-way from phat I'm goin' to tell ye, bekase as soon as Misther Dooley begun to come over an' palather his fine talk to her an' say shwate things, thin she up an' begins shtrugglin' harder nor iver, bekase it was afther she'd let go, an' comin' onexpected-like she thought it was a dispinsation av Providence, whin rayly it was only an accident it was, beways av Dooley's cow goin' dhry an' the calf too young to lave suckin' an' ate grass.

"Annyhow, wan day, afther Misther Dooley had talked purty nice the avenin' afore, she put an her cloak, an' wint to Owld Moll an' in an' shut the dure.

"'Now, Moll,' she says to the owld cuillean, 'it's a long time since I've been to ye, barrin' the time the goat was lost, fur, sure, I lost me confidince in ye. Ye failed me twict, wanst whin John McCune forgot me whin he wint to Derry an' thin come back an' married that Mary O'Niel, the impidint young shtrap, wid the hair av her as red as a glowin' coal; an' wanst whin Misther McFinnigan walked aff from me an' married the Widdy Bryan. Now ye must do yer besht, fur I'm thinkin' that, wid a little industhry, I cud get Misther Dooley, the same that the town widdys is so flusthrated wid.'

"'An' does he come to see ye, at all?' says Moll.

"'Faith he does, an' onless I'm mishtaken is mightily plazed wid his comp'ny whin it's me that's in it,' says Miss Rooney.

"'An' phat widdys is in it,' says Moll, as she didn't know, bekase sorra a step did the widdys go to her wid their love doin's, as they naded no help, an' cud thransact thim affairs thimselves as long as their tongues held out.

"So Miss Rooney towld her, an' Moll shuk her head. 'Jagers,' says she, 'I'm afeared yer goose is cooked if all thim widdys is afther him. I won't thry,' says she.

"But Miss Rooney was as much in airnest as the widdys, troth, I'm thinkin', more, bekase she was fairly aitchin' fur a husband now she'd got her mind on it.

"'Sure, Moll,' says she, 'ye wouldn't desart me now an' it me last show. Thim widdys can marry who they plaze, bad scran to 'em, but if Misther Dooley gets from me, divil fly wid the husband I'll get at all, at all,' beginnin' to cry.

"So, afther a dale av palatherin', Moll consinted to thry, bein' it was the third time Miss Rooney had been to her, besides, she wanted to save her charackther for a knowledgeable woman. So she aggrade to do her best, an' gev her a little bag to carry wid 'erbs in it, an' writ some words on two bits av paper an' the same in Latin. It was an awful charm, no more do I remimber it, fur it was niver towld me, nor to anny wan else, fur it was too dreadful to say axceptin' in Latin an' in a whisper fur fear the avil sper'ts 'ud hear it, that don't undhershtand thim dape langwidges.

"'Now, darlint,' says owld Moll, a-givin' her wan, 'take you this charm an' kape it on you an' the bag besides, an' ye must manage so as this other paper 'ull be on Misther Dooley, an' if it fails an' he don't marry ye I'll give ye back yer money an' charge ye nothing at all,' says she.

"So Miss Rooney tuk the charms an' paid Owld Moll one pound five, an' was to give her fifteen shillins more afther she was married to Dooley.

"She wint home, bothered entirely how she'd get the charm on Dooley, an' the avenin' come, an' he wid it, an' shtill she didn't know. So he set an' talked an' talked, an' by an' by he dhrunk up the rest av the whiskey an' wather in his glass an' got up to go.

"'Why, Misther Dooley,' says she, bein' all at wanst shtruck be an idee. 'Was iver the like seen av yer coat?' says she. 'Sure it's tore in the back. Sit you down agin wan minnit an' I'll mend it afore ye can light yer pipe. Take it aff,' says she.

"'Axqueeze me,' says Dooley. 'I may be a bigger fool than I look, or I may look a bigger fool than I am, but I know enough to kape the coat on me back whin I'm wid a lady,' says he.

"'Then take a sate an' I'll sow it on ye,' says she to him agin, so he set down afore the fire, an' she, wid a pair av shizzors an' a nadle, wint behind him an' at the coat. 'Twas a sharp thrick av her, bekase she took the shizzors, an' whin she was lettin' on to cut aff the t'reads that she said were hangin', she ripped the collar, an' shlipped in the bit o' paper, an' sowed it up as nate as a samesthress in less than no time.

"'It's much beholden to ye I am,' says Dooley, risin' wid his pipe lit. 'An' it's a happy man I'd be if I'd a young woman av yer size to do the like to me ivery day.'

"'Glory be to God,' says Miss Rooney to herself, fur she thought the charm was beginnin' to work. But she says to him, 'Oh, it's talkin' ye are. A fine man like you can marry who he plazes.'

"So Dooley wint home, an' she, thinkin' the business as good as done, towld her mother that night she was to marry Misther Dooley. The owld lady cudn't contain herself or the saycret aither, so the next mornin' towld it to her sister, an' she to her dawther that wint to school wid Missis McMurthry's gurrul. Av coorse the young wan cudn't howld her jaw anny more than the owld wans, an' up an' towld the widdy's dawther an' she her mother an' the rest o' the town, so be the next day ivery wan knew that Dooley was goin' to marry Miss Rooney: that shows, if ye want to shpread a bit o' news wid a quickness aiquel to the tellygraph, ye've only to tell it to wan woman as a saycret.

"Well, me dear, the noise the widdys made 'ud shtun a dhrummer. Dooley hadn't been in town fur a week, an' widdys bein' nacherly suspishus, they misthrusted that somethin' was wrong, but divil a wan o' thim thought he'd do such an onmannerly thrick as that. But they all belaved it, bekase widdys judge iverybody be themselves, so they were mighty mad.

"The Widdy McMurthry was first to hear the news, as her dawther towld her, an' she riz in a fury. 'Oh the owdashus villin,' says she; 'to think av him comin' here an' me listenin' at him that was lyin' fasther than a horse 'ud throt. But I'll have justice, so I will, an' see if there's law for a lone widdy. I'll go to the judge,' fur, I forgot to tell ye, it was jail delivery an' the coort was settin' an' the judge down from Dublin wid a wig on him the size av a bar'l.

"Whin they towld Missis O'Donnell, she bust out cryin' an' says, 'Sure it can't be thrue. It isn't in him to desave a poor widdy wid only two childher, an' me thrustin' on him,' so she wint into the back room an' laid on the bed.

"But whin the Widdy Mulligan learned it, they thought she'd take a fit, the face av her got so red an' she chokin' wid rage. 'Tatther an' agers,' says she. 'If I only had that vagabone here five minnits, it's a long day it 'ud be afore he'd desave another tinder-hearted faymale.'

"'Oh, be aisey,' says wan to her, 'faix, you're not the onliest wan that's in it. Sure there's the Widdy O'Donnell an' Missis McMurthry that he's desaved aiquelly wid yerself.'

"'Is that thrue?' says she; 'by this an' by that I'll see thim an' we'll go to the judge an' have him in the prision. Sure the Quane's a widdy herself an' knows how it feels, an' her judge 'ull take the part av widdys that's misconshtrewed be a nagurly blaggard like owld Dooley. Bad luck to the seed, breed, an' generation av him. I cud mop up the flure wid him, the divil roast him, an' if I lay me hands on him, I'll do it,' says she, an' so she would; an' a blessing it was to Misther Dooley he was not in town just thin, but at home, diggin' pitaties as fast as he cud, an' chucklin' to himself how he'd send the pitaties to town be Paddy, an' himself go to Clare an' get away from the whole tribe av widdys an' owld maids.

"So the Widdy Mulligan wint afther the Widdy O'Donnell an' tuk her along, an' they towld thim av the Widdy McMurthry an' how she was done be him, an' they got her too, fur they all said, 'Sure we wouldn't marry him fur him, but only want to see him punished fur misconshtructing phat we said to him an' lying to us.' Be this time half the town was ready an' aiger to go wid thim to the coort, an' so they did, an' in, wid the offishers thryin' to kape thim out, an' the wimmin shovin' in, an' all their frinds wid 'em, an' the shur'f callin' out 'Ordher in the coort,' an' the judge lookin' over his shpectacles at thim.

"'Phat's this at all?' says the judge, wid a solemnious voice. 'Is it a riat it is, or a faymale convulsion?'—whin he seen all the wimmin. 'Phat's the matther?' says he, an' wid that all the wimmin begun at wanst, so as the noise av thim was aiquel to a 'viction.

"'Marcy o' God,' says the judge, 'phat's in the faymales at all? Are they dishtracted entirely, or bewitched, or only dhrunk?' says he.

"'We're crazy wid graif, yer Lordshap,' they schraimed at him at wanst. 'It's justice we want agin the uppresser.'

"'Phat's the uppresser been a-doin'?' axed the judge.

"'Disthroyin' our pace, an' that av our families,' they said to him.

"'Who is the uppresser?' he axed.

"'Owld Dooley,' they all shouted at him at the wan time, like it was biddin' at an auction they were.

"So at first the judge cudn't undhershtand at all, till some wan whishpered the truth to him an' thin he scrotched his chin wid a pen.

"'Is it a man fur to marry all thim widdys? By me wig, he's a bowld wan. Go an' fetch him,' he says to a consthable. 'Be sated, ladies, an' ye'll have justice,' he says to the widdys, very p'lite. 'Turn out thim other blaggards,' he says to the shur'f, an' away wint the polisman afther Dooley.

"He found him at home, wid his coat aff, an' him an' Paddy diggin' away at the pitaties for dear life, bekase he wanted to get thim done.

"'Misther Dooley,' says the consthable to him, 'ye're me prish'ner. Come along, ye must go wid me at wanst.'

"At first, Dooley was surprised in that degray he thought the life 'ud lave him, as the consthable come up behind him on the quiet, so as to give him no show to run away.

"'Phat for?' says Dooley to him, whin he'd got his wind agin.

"'Faix, I'm not sartain,' says the polisman, that wasn't a bad felly; 'but I belave it's along o' thim widdys that are so fond o' ye. The three o' thim's in the coort an' all the faymales in town, an' the judge sint me afther ye, an' ye must come at wanst, so make ready to go immejitly.'

"'Don't go wid him,' says Paddy, wid his sleeves rowled up an' spitting in his hands. 'Lave me at him,' says he, but Dooley wouldn't, bekase he was a paceable man. But he wasn't anxshus to go to the coort at all; begob, he'd all the coortin' he naded, but bein' there was no help fur it, he got his coat, the same that Miss Rooney sowed the charm in, an' shtarted wid the consthable.

"Now, it was that mornin' that owld Rooney was in town, thryin' to sell a goat he had, that gev him no end o' throuble be losin' itself part of the time an' the rest be jumpin' on the thatch an' stickin' its feet through. But he cudn't sell it, as ivery wan knew the baste as well as himself, an' so he was sober, that wasn't common wid him. Whin he seen the widdys an' the other wimmin wid thim shtravigerin' through the strate on the way to the coort an' heard the phillaloo they were afther makin', he axed phat the matther was. So they towld him, an' says he, 'Be the powers, if it's a question av makin' him marry some wan, me dawther has an inthrust in the matther,' so he dhropped the goat's shtring an' shtarted home in a lamplighter's throt to fetch her, an' got there about the time the polisman nabbed Dooley.

"'There, they're afther goin' now,' says he to her. 'Make haste, or we'll lose thim,' an' aff they run, she wid her charm an' he widout his coat, grippin' a shillalee in his fisht, an' caught up wid Paddy that was follerin' the polisman an' Dooley.

"So they jogged along, comfortable enough, the polisman an' Dooley in the lade, afther thim owld Rooney an' Paddy, blaggardin' the consthable ivery fut o' the way, an' offerin' fur to bate him so as he wouldn't know himself be lookin' in the glass, an' Miss Rooney in the rare, wondherin' if the charm 'ud work right. But Dooley didn't let a word out av his jaw, as knowin' he'd nade all his breath afther gettin' into the coort.

"At the rise o' the hill the pursesshun was met be about a hunderd o' the town boys that come out fur to view thim, an' that yelled at Dooley how the widdys were waitin' to tare him in paces, an' that he was as good as a dead man a'ready, so he was; an' whin they got into town, all the men jined the show, roarin' wid laughter an' shoutin' at Dooley that the judge cudn't do anny more than hang him at wanst, an' to shtand it like a hayro, bekase they'd all be at the hangin' an' come to the wake besides an' have a tundherin' big time. But he answered thim niver a word, so they all wint on to the coort, an' in, bringin' the other half o' the town wid 'em, the faymale half bein' there kapin' comp'ny wid the widdys.

"The minnit they come nie the dure, all the widdys an' wimmin begun in wan breath to make raimarks on thim.

"'A-a-a-ah, the hang-dog face he has,' says Missis McMurthry. 'Sure hasn't he the look av a shape-thief on the road to the gallus?'

"'See the haythen vagabone,' says the Widdy Mulligan. 'If I had me tin fingers on him for five minnits, it's all the satiswhackshun I'd ax. Bad cess to the hair I'd lave on the head av him or in his whushkers aither.'

"But the Widdy O'Donnell only cried, an' all the wimmin turned their noses up whin they seen Miss Rooney comin' in.



"OULD ROONEY AN' PADDY BLAGGARDIN' THE CONSTHABLE IVERY FUT O' THE WAY."

"'Look at that owld thing,' says they. 'Phat a power av impidince! Mind the consate av her to be comin' here wid him. Sure she hasn't the shame av a shtone monkey,' says they av her.

"'Silence in the coort,' says the shur'f. 'Stop that laughin' be the dure. Git along down out o' thim windys,' says he to the mob that Dooley an' the consthable brought wid thim.

"'Misther Dooley,' says the judge, 'I'm axed to b'lave ye're thryin' to marry four wimmin at wanst, three av the same aforeshed bein' widdys an' the other wan not. Is it thrue, or do ye plade not guilty?' says he.

"'It's not thrue, yer Lordshap,' says Dooley, shpakin' up, bekase he seen he was in for it an' put on a bowld face. 'Thim widdys is crazy to get a husband, an' misconsayved the manin' o' me words,' says he, an' that minnit you'd think a faymale lunattic ashylum broke loose in the coort.

"They all gabbled at wanst like a field av crows. They said he was a haythen, a Toork, a vulgar shpalpeen, a lyin' blaggard, a uppresser av the widdy, a robber av the orphin, he was worse than a nagur, he was, so he was, an' they niver thought av belavin' him, nor av marryin' him aither till he axed thim, an' so on.

"The judge was a married man himself an' knewn it was no use thryin' to shtop the gostherin,' for it was a joke av him to say that the differ bechuxt a woman an' a book was you cud shut up a book, so he let thim go on till they were spint an' out o' breath an' shtopped o' thimselves like an owld clock that's run down.

"'The sintince av this coort, Misther Dooley, is, that ye marry wan av 'em an' make compinsation to the other wans in a paycoonyary way be payin' thim siven poun' aitch.'

"'Have marcy, yer Lordshap,' says Dooley, bekase he seen himself shtripped av all he had. 'Make it five poun', an' that's more than I've got in money.'

"'Siven pound, not a haporth less,' says the judge. 'If ye haven't the money ye can pay it in projuice. An' make yer chice bechune the wimmin who ye'll marry, as it's married ye'll be this blessed day, bekase ye've gone too long a'ready,' says the judge, very starn, an' thin the widdys all got quite, an' begun to be sorry they gev him so many hard names.

"'Is it wan o' the widdys must I marry?' says Dooley, axin' the judge, an' the charm in his coller beginnin' to work hard an' remind him av Miss Rooney, that was settin' on wan side, trimblin'.

"'Tare an' 'ouns,' says the judge. 'Bad luck to ye, ye onmannerly idjit,' as he was gettin' vexed wid Dooley, that was shtandin', scrotchin' the head av him like he was thryin' to encourage his brains. 'Wasn't it wan o' the wimmin that I tould ye to take?' says he.

"'If that's phat yer Lordshap says, axin' yer pardin an' not misdoubtin' ye, if it's plazin' to ye, bedad, I'll take the owld maid, bekase thim widdys have got a sight av young wans, an' childher are like toothpicks, ivery man wants his own an' not another felly's.' But he had another razon that he towld to me afther; says he, 'If I've got to have a famly, be jakers, I want to have the raisin' av it meself,' an' my blessin' on him for that same.

"But whin he was spakin' an' said he'd take Miss Rooney, wid that word she fainted away fur dead, an' was carried out o' the coort be her father an' Paddy.

"So it was settled, an' as Dooley didn't have the money, the widdys aggrade to take their pay some other way. The Widdy Mulligan tuk the pitaties he was diggin' whin the polisman gripped him, as she said they'd kape the inn all winter. The Widdy McMurthry got his hay, which come convaynient, bekase her brother kep post horses an' tuk the hay av her at two shillins undher the market. Missis O'Donnell got the cow that made all the throuble be goin' dhry at the wrong time, an' bein' it was a good cow was vally'd at tin poun'; so she gev him three poun', an' was to sind him the calf whin it was weaned. So the widdys were all paid for bein' wounded in their hearts be Misther Dooley, an' a good bargain they made av it, bekase a widdy's affections are like garden weeds, the more ye thrample thim the fasther they grow.

"Misther Dooley got Miss Rooney, an' she a husband, fur they pulled her out av her faint wid a bucket o' wather, an' the last gossoon in town wint from the coort to the chapel wid Miss Rooney an' Misther Dooley, the latther crassin' himself ivery minnit an' blessin' God ivery step he tuk that it wasn't the jail he was goin' to, an' they were married there wid a roarin' crowd waitin' in the strate fur to show thim home. But they sarcumvinted thim, bekase they wint out the back way an' through Father O'Donohue's garden, an' so home, lavin' the mob howlin' before the chapel dure like wild Ingines.

"An' that's the way the owld maid defated three widdys, that isn't often done, no more would she have done it but for owld Moll an' the charm in Dooley's coat. But he's very well plazed, an' that I know, for afther me first wife died, her I was tellin' ye av, I got the roomytics in me back like tin t'ousand divils clawin' at me backbone, an' I made me mind up that I'd get another wife, bekase I wanted me back rubbed, sence it 'ull be chaper, says I, to marry some wan to rub it than to pay a boy to do that same. So I was lookin' roun' an' met Misther Dooley an' spake av it to him, an' good luck it 'ud have been if I'd tuk his advice, but I didn't, bein' surrounded be a widdy afther, that's rubbed me back well fur me only wid a shtick. But says he to me, 'Take you my advice Misther Magwire, an' whin ye marry, get you an owld maid, if there's wan to be had in the counthry. Gurruls is flighty an' axpectin' too much av ye, an' widdys is greedy buzzards as ye've seen be my axpayrience, but owld maids is humble, an' thankful for gettin' a husband at all, God bless 'em, so they shtrive to plaze an' do as ye bid thim widout grumblin' or axin' throublesome questions.'"

THE END