Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1868-01-07

a low faint cough from the dark corner
where the bed stood seemed to cause even a
deeper stiffness aud then, Ia silence where
the buzziug of fy would have been heard,
my father said:
"Where's Billy Seaman? 1 want to make
| my will ,dssis6,. q
"He's here, father" said Peter. taking
Billy by the handj and leading him to the
bedside. ~ "a sod 80 -
Write what bid ye, Billy, and be quick.
Tor haven't long time before me here. I
die good Catholic, though Father o. Rafferty,
won't give me the funeral rites
a general chorus of muttered 20 inusha,
musha ~ was now heard through the room ;
but whether in grief Over the sad fate of the
dying man, or the unai=sss,i,5s severity of the
priest, is hard to say.
81 die in peace with all my neighbOrs and
all mankind"
Another chorus of the company seemed to
approve these characteristic expressions.
Il bequeath unto my son Peter-and never
was there better sou. or decenter have
you that down? l bequeath unto my son
Peter the whole of my two farms of Killi-
mundoonery. and Knockshebora, with the
fallow meadows behind Lynch's house, the
forge and the right of turf on the Dooran
bog. | give him-and much good may it do
.him-Lanty Cassarn's acre, and the Luary
fields with the lime kiln; and that reminds
me that my mouth is just as dry. Letme taste
what ye have in the jug" Here the dying
siderably refreshed by it.
"Where was 1, Billy Scanlan ?" says he
'Oh, 1 remember; at the lime kiln. 1 leave
him-that's Peter, | mean-the two potato
gardens at Noonan's Well; and it is the ele-
giant crops grow there"
"Aint you getting weak, father, darlin'?"
says Peter, who began to be afraid of my ia
theirs lOquaciousness; for, to say the truth,
the punch got into his head, and he was great
ly disposed to talk.
81 am, Peter, my son." says he; "I am
getting weaker; just touch my lips again
with the jug. All! Peter, Peter,you watered
the drink"
mo, indeed, father, but it's the taste is
leavin' you" says Peter, and again low cho-
rus of compassionate pity murmured through
the cabin.
"Well, I'm nearly done, now," says my ia
ther; ''there's only one plot of ground re-
naming, and / put it on you, Peter, as ye
wish to live a good man, and die with the
same easy heart as dp now, that ye mind
my last words to ye here. Are ye listening?
the neighbors listening? is Billy Scanlan
listening"
eyes, sir, yes, father, we'retll minding,"
chorused the audience.
"Well, then, it's my last will and testa-
ment, and may-giye me the jug"-here he
took u long d4ink-"and may that blessed
liquor be poison to me if I'm not as eager
about this as every other part of the will /
say, then, bequeath the little plot at the
cross roads to poor Con Cregan, for he has q
heavy charge, and is an honest and as hard-
working man as l ever knew. BE friend
to him, Peter, dear never let him want while
ye have it yerseH-think of me on my death
bed whenever he asks ye for any trife. Is it
down, Billy Seaman ?-the two acres at the
cross roads to Con. Cregan and his heirs in
secia sectorins. All blessed be the saints!
but feel my heart lighter after that" says
he--''a good work makes an easy conscience.
And now III drink all the company's good
health, and many happy returns
What he was going to add there sno saying;
but Peter, who was now terribly frightened
at the lively tone of the sick man was assum-
ing, hurried all the people into another room
to let his father die in peace.
When they were all gone Peter slipped
back to my father, who was putting on his
brogues in a corner. Soon" says he, eye
did it all well but sure that vas joke about
the two acres at the cross"
"Of course it was, Peter" says he, "sure
it was all joke, for the matter of that; won't
1 make the neighbors laugh hearty to NOR
row when [ tell them all about it?"
"You wouldn't be mean enough to betray
mt" "'says Peter, trembling with fright.
"Sure ye wouldn't be mean enough to 20
against yer fathers dying words 2" says my
father; "the last sentence ever he spoke;"
and here he gave low, wicked laugh, that
made myself shake with fear.
very well, Con-" said Peter, holding out
his hand "a bargains bargain; yer deep
fellow, that's all" And SO it ended, and my
father slipped over the bog, mighty well sat-
isfed with the legacy he left himself
And thus we became the owners of the lit
tie spot known to this day as "Con.'s Acre"