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'Oh! says she, 'there's no use in purtendin', 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.
'It's too late you are already, says Micky, 'so come up behind me, for God's sake, says he, 'an' don't waste time; an' with that he brought the horse up beside the ditch, an' Jim Soolivan mounted up behind Micky, an' they rode off; an' tin good miles it was iv a road, an' at the other side iv Keeper intirely; an' it was snowin' so fast that the ould baste could hardly go an at all at all, an' the two bys an his back was jist like a snowball all as one, an' almost fruz an' smothered at the same time, your honour; an' they wor both mighty sorrowful intirely, an' their toes almost dhroppin' aff wid the could.
'Is that Mr. Soolivan? says the by. says he, as soon as he saw him a good bit aff. 'To be sure it is, ye spalpeen, you, says Jim, roarin' out; 'what do you want wid me this time a-day? says he. 'Don't you know me? says the gossoon, 'it's Mick Hanlon that's in it, says he.
'Jim Soolivan Jim Soolivan, says Nell, sittin' up in the bed, an' gropin' for a quart bottle iv holy wather she used to hang by the back iv the bed, 'don't come in, darlin' there's holy wather here, says she; 'but tell me from where you are is there anything that's throublin' your poor sinful sowl? says she.
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.
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.
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. 'Who's batin' the door? says Nell; 'what's all the noise for? says she. 'Who's in it? says Andy. 'It's me, says Jim. 'Who are you? says Andy; 'what's your name? 'Jim Soolivan, says he. 'By jabers, you lie, says Andy.
'Oh, not in the smallest taste, says Micky; 'the breath was jist out iv him, says he, 'when I left the farm. "An", says he, "take the ould black horse," says he, "for he's shure-footed for the road," says he, "an' bring, Jim Soolivan here," says he, "for I think I'd die asy af I could see him onst," says he.
'Jim Soolivan, says she, as soon as he was done, 'go back, for God's sake, an' don't be freakenin' me an' your poor fatherless childhren, says she. 'Why, you bosthoon, you, says Jim, 'won't you let your husband in, says he, 'to his own house? says he. 'You WOR my husband, sure enough, says she, 'but it's well you know, Jim Soolivan, you're not my husband NOW, says she.
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