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