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Updated: May 24, 2025
Give us my cant! Are yez gone? Oh, by this and by that hell eh aren't yez " But ere he could finish the sentence, they had set chit. "Now," he exclaimed in a voice whose tremendous tones were strongly at variance with his own injunctions "Now, neighbors, d n yez, keep silence. Mrs. Reillaghan, get a bottle of whiskey an' a mug o' wather. Make haste. Hanim an diouol! don't be all night!"
"Very asy, Rody," replied Reillaghan; "we made up the quarrel, shuck hands, an's good frinds as ever." "Bedad, that bates cock-fightin'," said Body, as he went to bring in the gun. In the mean time, Prank, with the cards in his hand, went to the eave of the barn, I thrust them up under the thatch, and took out of the same nook a flask of whiskey.
Oh, Rody! what'll be done? Go down to Owen Reillaghan's go 'way go down an' tell thim Oh, vick-na-hoie! but this was the unfortunate day to us all? Mike reillaghan is shot with my gun; she went off in his hand goin' over a snow wreath, an' he's lyin' dead in the mountains?" The screams and the wailing which immediately rose in the family were dreadful. Mrs.
You're well known too often to carry a fair face when the heart under it is black wid you." "All I can say is," observed young Reillaghan, "that if it comes out agin you that you played him foul, all the earth won't save your life; I'll have your heart's blood, if I should hang for it a thousand times."
Darby More, had, on concluding the De profundus, seated himself beside the bed on which Mike lay; but on hearing the groan, and the call for drink, he leaped rapidly to: his legs and exclaimed, "My sowl to hell an' the divil, Owen Reillaghan, but your son's alive!! Off wid two or three of yez, as the divil can dhrive yez, for the priest an' docthor!! Off wid yez! ye damned spalpeens, aren't ye near there by this!
* A cockstick was so called from being used on Cock- Monday, to throw at a cook tied to a stake, which was a game common among the people It was about the length of a common stick, but much heavier and thicker at one end. "Well, well," replied Reillaghan, "the sorra hair I care; so let us go.
So far, that's right, if the blood of him's not an you. But there's one thing more to be done: will you walk over undher the eye of God, an' touch the corpse? Hould back, neighbors, an' let him come over alone: I an' Owen Reillaghan will stand here wid the lights, to see if the corpse bleeds."
Reillaghan, who, with the curiosity natural to her sex, and the superstition peculiar to her station in life, felt anxious to hear Darby's dream, urged Mike to follow him forthwith, that he might prevail on him to detail it at full length. Darby, who knew not exactly what the dream ought to be, replied to Mike's inquiries vaguely.
"This would make a brave powdher-horn, Darby Moore," observed one of Reilla-ghan's sons, "if it wasn't so big. What do you keep in it, Darby?" "It smells like whiskey, Darby," said the boy, without any intention, however, of offending him. "It smells very like poteen." "Hould yer tongue, Risthard," said the elder Reillaghan; "what 'ud make the honest man have whiskey in it?
There is little more to be added, except that Mike Reillaghan almost miraculously recovered; that he and Peggy Gartland were happily married, and that Darby More lost his character as a dreamer in that parish, Mike, with whom, however, he still continued a favorite, used frequently to allude to the speaking crucifix, the dream aforesaid, and his bit of fiction, in assuring his mother that he had dissuaded him against "tracing" on that eventful day.
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