to the farm his uncle was gettin' an illegantly, an' he
was sittin' up sthrong an' warm in the bed, an' improvin' every minute,
an' no signs av dyin' an him at all at all; so he had all his throuble
for nothin'.

But this wasn't all, for the snow kem so thick that it was impassible to
get along the roads at all at all; an' faix, instead iv gettin' betther,
next mornin' it was only tin times worse; so Jim had jist to take it
asy, an' stay wid his uncle antil such times as the snow id melt.

Well, your honour, the evenin' Jim Soolivan wint away, whin the dark
was closin' in, Nell Gorman, his wife, beginned to get mighty anasy in
herself whin she didn't see him comin' back at all; an' she was gettin'
more an' more frightful in herself every minute till the dark kem an',
an' divil a taste iv her husband was coming at all at all.

'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. 'Oh, voh, voh, it's not at home comfortable with
your wife an' family that you are, Jim Soolivan,' says she, 'but in the
other world, you aumathaun, in glory wid the saints I hope,' says she.
'It's I that's the unforthunate famale,' 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