Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1868-03-13
The Will.

near the fire; But didn't speak for l was
| frightened. It was still repeated louder.
and then came a cry: Con, Cregar; Con-,
| say open the door! want YOU
knew the voice well 1t was Peter
McCObe's; but pretended to be fast as
leep, and snored loudly. At last my faith
er unboted the door, and heard him say !;
| .Oh, Mr.. Peter, what's the matter! is
| the old man worse!'
f! 'Fax, that's what he is, for he's dead =
Glory be his bed! When did it hap
pen :,
About an hour ago said Peter, in a
voice that even from my corner, could
perceive was greatly agitated. He died
like an old hathen, Con. and never made a
will -
That's bad, said my father, for he was
always polite man, and said whatever
was pleasing to the company. -
1T is bad said Peter, but it would be
worse if he couldn't help it. Listen to me
now, Corney.
Iwant ye to help me in this business
Here are five guineas i'll gold ifye do what
| bid ye. You know that ye were always
reckoned the image Of my father; and be-
fore he took i'll ye were mistaken for each
other every day of the week.
'Anan !! said my father, for he was get.
ting frightened at the notion, without well
knowing why.
We'll, what want is for ye to come
over into the house and get into bed
Not beside he.corpse : said my father
trembling.
by no means. but by yourself; and
you're to pretend to be my father, aud that
ye want to make yer will before ye die
Then I'll send for the neighbors, and Billy
Scanlan, the schOolmaster, and ye'H tell
him to write, leaving every thing to me
ye understand. AS the neighbors will see
We and hear yer voice, it will never be be
Iieved but that it was himself that did it.
The room must be very dark, says my
father.
TO be sure it will, but have no fear
Nobody will dare to come nigh the bed
and ye Il only have to make cross Will
her pen under the name.
And the priest ? said my father.
My father quarreled with him last wcel,
about Easter dues and Father Tom said
he d not give him the rites and that :
lucky now Come along, now, quick, fol
we've no time to loose, 1t must be all
finished bctureday breaks
My father did not lose much time at
his toilet, for he had lust wrapped his big
coat round him and slipping ON the bro
gues, left the house. | sat up in the
basket, and listened till they had gone some
minutes; and then in a costume as light
as my parents. set out after them to watch
tse course Of The adventure. | thought to
take short cut and before them, but my
bad luck teIl into bog hole and only es-
capped drowning by chance. As it was,
when reached the house, the perform
aacc had already begun.
| think that see the whole scene this
instant before my eyes as sat on little
window. with one pane, and that broken
one, and surveyed the proc "edings. 1t
was very large room, AT one cud of which
WAS a bei, aud beside it WIS table with
physic bottles, and spoons aud teacups :;
little further off was anothc: table at
which sat Billy Seaman. with all manner
of writing materials before him.
The country people sat two and some
times three deep round the wall. all intent
" eager and anxious for the coming event !:
Peter himself. went from place to pl ace
trying to smother his grief. and occasion
ally helping the company to whiskey,
which was supplied with more than accus-
toned libcrality.
All my consciousness of the deceit and
trckcry could not deprive the scene OF a
certain soiemnity. The misty distance OF
the half lighted room; the highly wrought
eAprcssio of the country peoples faces,
never more intensely excited than at some
moment Of this kind the low. deep drawn
breathiugs, unbrokcn save by sigh or Il
sob; the tribute Of aifcclionate sorrow to
some lost friend. whose memory was thus
brought back these were all so real that.
as looked, thrilling sense Of awe stole
over me, aud actually shook with fear.
| a low faint cough from the dark corner
where the bed stood seemed to cause even
deeper stiffness; ; and then, in silence
where the huzzing OF fly could have
heeu heard my father said:
where's Billy Seaman l want to
make my will.
Hes here, father, said Peter. taking
! Billy ny the hand, and leading him to the
bedside.
Write what | bid We, and be qnicl, for l
! haven't Il long time before me here. | die
good Catholic. though Father o Rafferty,
won't give me the general rites.
A general chorus Of muttered %. mu-
sha musha was now heard through
the room; hut whether in grief over tie
sad fate OF the dying man, or the unAincl.
ing severity of the priest, ia hard to say
Il die in peace with all my neighbors
and mankind.
Another chorus of the company seemed
to approve their characteristic express
sions.
i lbcqueath unto my son Peter, (and ney-
er was there better son, or II decenter.
have YOU that dOwnl hequeath unto my
son. Peter, the whole OF my two farms OF
Kllimundoonery and knoe ksheboora, with
the fallen meadows behind Lynche's house,
the forge and right of turf on the Dooran
bog. i give him, and much good may it
do him. Lanty Cassarn' acre, and the
Duary fields with the lime kim, and that
reminds me that my mouth is just as dry,
Let me taste what We have in the jug. =
Here the dying man took very hearty
pull. and seemed considerably refreshed
by it.
where was l, Billy Scanlan!' says he
'Oh. l remcmber-at the lime kiln.
leave him, that's Peter. | mean, the two
potato gardens at Nooans'' Well, and it
is the elegant crops grow there.
Amt you getting weaa, father da'lln' 2
says Peter, who began to he afraid of my
fathers loquaciousness, for, to say the
truth, the punch got into his heal and he
was greatly disposed 20 talk.
i am, Peter my sou, says he; Il am
getting weaker; just touch my lips agin