The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1878-01-10
An Irish Wake.

Tim Scanlan, while he lived, was only
a laboring man; but he was well iked
in the country, and it was expected that
his funeral would be an unusually large
gathering. Crowds hocked 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, and 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
"slip" of servant-girl, whom he had
married andruled over very masterfully.
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 awake the dead" as the
saying is; for, to the CONSERVATION and
amazement of every one present, the
defunct, after 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 Tim, still propped
up before the fire, was left to the care
of his wife. Instead of coming near
him. however. she skunk off, cringing
timidly away into dark corner behind
his chair, whence she directed fright
ened glances at her resuscitated spouse.
Mary" said the man, in stern
voice.
No answer.
care you here~ peering round, his
face quivering with anger and weakness.
eyes, Tim, Pm here" faltered Mary,
without stirring.
Bring me my stick"
"Ah, no, Timl mol Sure 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 Topped
the covering wife.
"Well you know what you deserve.
Well you know, you young thief O the
world, that if l was to take and beat
you this blessed minute as black as a
mourning-coach, 'twould only be sarv-
ing you right, after the mean, dirty,
shameful turn you've done me-"
at would, it would !' sobbed the girl.
la,.,p 10 <~oox@ol
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 as | did about the elegant brand
new shirt I'd bought O purpose for my
berrin; shirt wouldn't have put ON
my living back-no, not if | had gone
naked in my skin! You knew had it
there in the chest laid up; and you
grudged it to my unfortunate carcass,
when l couldn't spa up for myselfp
go, Tim, darlin', forgive mel" cried
Mary. Forgive me this once, and on my
knees 1 promise never, never to do the
likes again! don't know what come over
me at all. Sure l think the devil-Lord
save us!-must have been at my elbow,
when | went out to get the shirt; tempt
ing me, and whispering that it was a
pity and sin to put good linen like that
onto clay. o, how could 1 do it all"
"Now hearken me, Mary" and Tim
raised the stick and laid it 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 60 for to dress me in those undacent
rags, tell you what I'll do-Pll valk."
40, don't, Tim, don'tl' shrieked
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 Pll put the new
shirt on you, my two hands IL starch it
and make it as white as snow, after lying
by so long in the old chest. Yer corpse
will look lovely, niver fear! And Pll
give you the grandest wake that iver
man had even if l have to sell the pig,
and part with every stick in the cabin to
buy the tay and whisky. l swear to
you will, darlin'. There's my hand
on it this blessed night"
"Well, mind you dc, or twill be
worse for you. And now give me drop
of wather to drink, and put taste Of
spirits through it; for Pm like faint
with thirst and weakness"
Mary kept her promise; for such a
wake was never remembered as Tim
Scanlan's, when, soon after, the poor
man really did depart this life. And
the "get up" of the "elegant brand
new shirt in which the corpse was ar
rayed Twas the admiration of all beholders.