West Virginia argus. [volume] (Kingwood, W. Va.) 1877-1946, 1878-01-26
An Irish Wake.

a laboring man; but he was well hsed
/ in the country, and IL was expected that
his funeral would be an unusually large
gathering. Crowds flocked to the wake,
and "A great provision of tea, whisky,
! pipes and tobacco had been made. The
widow occupied her post of honor at the
head of the coffin, aud displayed fair
show of grief, joining in with vocifer-
Gus weeping when the keening" was
led by the older women. She was young
enough To have been the dead mans
| daughter, having come to his house n
slip" of a servant-girl, whom he had
married and ruled over very masteriully.
As the night wore on, the whisky
began to tell on those outside the room
where the corpse lay. The noise in
creased, and soon apparently became
loud enough to wake the dead" as the
saying is; for, 20 the CONSERVATION and
| amazement of every one present, the
defunct after n sigh and sundry groans,
opened his eyes and struggled into a
sitting posture. When the startled COM
pany had recovered from the shock
poor Tim was lifted out of the coffin ;
whisky was literally poured down his
throat, and, well wrapped up in blankets,
and seated in the big chair by the fire,
he gradually revived from the trance or
stupor that had been mistaken for death.
The last of the guests had departed
from the cabin, and ! i'm, still propped
up before the fire, was left 10 the care
of his wife. Instead of coming near
him, however. she skunk oil, cringing
timidly away into dark corner behind
his chair, whence she directed fright
ened glances at her resuscitated spouse.
Maryp said the man, in n stern
voice
No answer.
care you here2" peering round, his
face quivering with anger and weakness.
Yes, Tim, I'm here" faltered Mary,
without stirring.
Bring me my stick"
"Ah, no, Tim mol Suro you never
rose yer hand to me yet And 'tisn't
now, when you're all as one as come
back from the dead, that"
Bring me my stick"
The stick was brought, and down on
her knees beside the big chair Hoped
the covering wife.
"Well you know what you deserve.
Well you know, you young thief o. the
world, that if ] was TO take and beat
you this blessed minute az black as n
mourning-coach, 'twould only be sarv-
ing you right, after the mean, dirty,
shameful turn you've done me-"
1t would, il would ~ sobbed the girl.
Look hereW gaspcd Tim, opening
his breast and showing his old tattered
shirt "Look at them rags. Look at
what you dressed up my poor corpse in
shaming me before all the decent neigh
bors at the wake An you knowing as
well rs / did about the elegant brand
new shirt I'd bought o. purpose for my
berrin; n shirt ] wouldn't have put on
my living back-no, not if had gone
naked in my skinl You knew had il
there in the chest laid up; and you
grudged il TO my unfortunate carcass,
when ] couldn't spa up for myselfW
80, Tim, darlin', forgive meW cried
Mary. Forgive me this once, and on my
knees ] promise never, never to do the
likes again don't know what come over
me at all. Sure / think the devil-Lord
save usl--must have been at my elbow,
when | went out to get the shirt; tempt
ing me, and whispering that it was II
pity and sin to put good linen like that
onto clay. o, how could do it all2"
Now hearken me, Mary" and Tim
raised the stick and laid il on her shoul-
der. She knew he wouldn't beat her
even if he could with his trembling
hands; but she pretended to vince and
cover away. "Mind what / say. AS
sure as you do me the like turn again,
and go for to dress me in those undacent
rags, tell you what Pll do-Pll waik."
80, don't, Tim, don'tw rhrieked
Mary, as pale as ashes. "Murther me
now, If it's plain TO you, or do any
thing TO me you like; but for the love of
the blessed Virgin, and all the saints
keep in yer gravel I'll put the new
shirt on you, my two hands III starch il
and make it as white as snow, after lying
by so long in the old chest Yer corpse
will look lovely, niver fear And I'll
give you the grandest wake that liver
man had even If / have TO sell the pig,
and part with every stick in the cabin 10
buy the tay and whisky. / swear to
you ] will, darlin'. There's my hand
on it this blessed nightp
"Well, mind you do, or twill be
worse for you. And now give me a drop
of wather TO drink, and put taste oil
spirits through it; for Pm like faint
with thirst and weakness"
Mary kept her promise; for such ,
wake was never remembered as Tin
Scanlan's, when, soon after, the poOi
man really did depart this life. And
the "get up" of the elegant brand
new shirt in which the corpse was ar
rayed was the admiration Of all beholders