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Sometimes He takes a bishop's and lays it on a child's head in benediction, then He takes the han' of a dochter t' relieve pain, th' han' of a mother t' guide her chile, an' sometimes He takes th' han' of an aul craither like me t' give a bit comfort to a neighbor. But they're all han's touch't be His Spirit, an' His Spirit is everywhere lukin' fur han's to use."
Ye didn't expect aanything an' ye got jist what ye expected. Ah, wuman, God isn't a printed book t' be carried aroun' b' a man in fine clothes, nor a gold cross t' be danglin' at the watch chain ov a priest." "What is he, Anna, yer wiser nor me; tell a poor craither in throuble, do!" "If ye'll lie very quiet, 'Liza jist cross yer hands and listen if ye do, I'll thry!"
Shortly after midnight Anna went over to see how things were at the wake. They told her of the singing of the children, of the beautiful chapther by Misther Gwynn, and the "feelin'" by Graham Shannon. The whey was sufficient and nearly everybody had "a dhrap o' th' craither" and a bite of fadge.
If he diz, tell him t' go aisy over th' twelth verse an' explain that th' works He did can be done in Antrim by any poor craither who's got th' Spirit." Sam straightened up to his full height and in measured words said: "Ye know, no doubt, Anna, that Misther Gwynn is a Churchman an' I'm a Presbyterian. He wouldn't take kindly to a hint from a Mill Row maan, I fear, especially on a disputed text."
Ann O'Hare, the chimneysweep's wife, was usually first on hand. She had the unenviable reputation of being the "dhirtiest craither" in the community. Jamie called her "Sooty Ann." "There's a gey good smell from yer pot, Anna," she said; "what haave ye in it th' day?" "Oh, jist a few sheep's throtters and a wheen of nettles." "Who gethered th' nettles?" Anna pointed to me.
"Poor craither," Anna said; "I wondther if she's got aanything besides broth?" Nobody knew. Anna thought she knew a way to find out. "Haave ye aany marbles, dear?" she asked me. "Aye, a wheen." "Wud ye give a wheen to me?" "Aye, are ye goin' t' shoot awhile? If ye are I'll give ye half an' shoot ye fur thim!" I said. "No, I jist want t' borra some." I handed out a handful of marbles.
Aych poor craither is made up ov some good an' much that isn't s' good, an' ye see only what isn't s' good! "Thin she towld m' somethin' which she niver towld aanyone else, 'cept yer Dah, ov coorse. 'Willie, says she, 'fur twenty years I've seen th' Son ov Maan ivery day ov m' life! "'How's that? says I. "'I've more'n seen 'm. I've made tay fur 'im, an' broth on Sunday.
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