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I lukt and what m' eyes lukt upon froze me blood like icicles hingin' frum th' thatch. It was a woman in a white shift, young an' beautiful, wid hair stramin' down her back. She sat on th' wall wid her head in her han's keenin' an' moanin': 'Ochone, ochone! I thried to spake but m' tongue cluv t' th' roof ov m' mouth. I thried t' move a han' but it wudn't budge.
M' legs an' feet wor as stiff and shtrait as th' legs ov thim tongs in yer chimley. Och, but it's th' prackus I was frum top t' toe! Dead intirely was I but fur th' eyes an' th' wit behint thim. She ariz an' walked up an' down, back an' fort', up an' down, back an' fort', keenin' an' cryin' an' wringin' her han's! Maan alive, didn't she carry on terrible!
Purty soon wid a yell she lept into the graveyard, thin she lept on th' wall, thin I heerd her on th' road, keenin'; an' iverywhere she wint wor long bars of light like sunbames streamin' throo th' holes in a barn. Th' keenin' become waker an' waker till it died down like the cheep ov a willy-wag-tail far off be the ind ov th' road. "I got up an' ran like a red shank t' McShane's house.
The other occupants of the sleeping-car watched the violent big man with the terrible eye, nervously expecting him every moment to spring upon his young victim and throttle him. But to those who were within earshot, the sternest thing he said was, "Then gently scan thy brother man, Still gentler sister woman, Though they may gang a keenin' wrang, To step aside is human."
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