me ol' frind, Jawn Brinnock, are attindin' to business, I have a grip
on life like th' wan ye have on th' shank iv that shell iv malt.
Whether 'tis these soft days, with th' childher beginnin' to play
barefutted in th' sthreet an' th' good women out to palaver over th'
fence without their shawls, or whether 'tis th' wan wurrud Easter
Sundah that comes on me, an' jolts me up with th' thoughts iv th'
la-ads goin' to mass an' th' blackthorn turnin' green beyant, I
dinnaw. But annyhow I'm as gay as a babby an' as fresh as a lark. I am
so.

"I was on'y thinkin'. Ol' Gran'pah Grogan died las' Mondah,--as good a
man as e'er counted his beads or passed th' plate. A thrue man.
Choosdah a Connock man up back iv th' dumps laid down th' shovel.
Misther Grogan had a grand notice in th' pa-apers: 'Grogan, at his
late risidence, 279 A-archoor Avnoo, Timothy Alexander, beloved
husband iv th' late Mary Grogan, father iv Maurice, Michael, Timothy,
Edward, James, Peter, Paul, an' Officer Andrew Grogan, iv Cologne
Sthreet station, an' iv Mrs. Willum Sarsfield Cassidy, nee Grogan'
(which manes that was her name befure she marrid Cassidy, who wurruks
down be Haley's packin'-house). 'Fun'ral be carriages fr'm his late
risidence to Calv'ry cimithry. Virginia City, Nivada; St. Joseph,
Mitchigan; an' Clonmel Tipp'rary pa-apers please copy.'

"I didn't see e'er a nee about th' fam'ly iv th' little man back iv
th' dumps, though maybe he had wan to set aroun' th' fire in th' dark
an' start at th' tap iv a heel on th' dure-step. Mebbe he had a
fam'ly, poor things. A fun'ral is great la-arks f'r th' neighbors, an'
'tis not so bad f'r th' corpse. But in these times, Jawn dear, a-ho
th' gray hearts left behind an' th' hungry mouths to feed. They done
th' best they cud f'r th' Connock man back iv th' dumps,--give him all