The New York herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1840-1920, 1879-02-16

was too much for him. and going oack to ais hcua
alone he thought smoke might mend matters. So
he hled pipe and sat down on stool III the
kitchen and pulled away like good fellow for five
or six minutes But what with the combined effects
and Barney fell at full length on his back, in which
position he was found by the family on their return
Since then he has never lifted glass or pipe to his
hps There's many poor divil dies dissolute in
the gutter from putin his hand to his mouth
TOO often, he says. He drinks tea and Coffee and
occasionally little water with sugar in it. His
usuai hour for retiring is twelve O'Clock. and
he never sleeps late in the morning. At haf-past
ten he walks to the school and sweeps the yard OF
uoes some other light WORK. his son, man OF sixty.
renewing him OF the drudgery. Then at naf-past
one or so ne walks to the corner of Broadway and
TONED stands with his truck. From there he makes
ms way to Norfolk street, where one of his sons
aveps mousse. ana thence returns to his ireside
All MS peregrinations are made foot, for once,
when he rode in horse ear he fell asleep and was
carried two miles beyond his destination it rarely
tnat ne spends an entire evening within doors taking
advantage OF the opportunity to call on his friends
Every sunday he dresses up in spotless white shir,
and big olack stock and makes the round of his ac
quaintances Last New Years he made seven calls
IN his grandson's company and others on his own
account
Barney is anxious to live longer than woman who
some twenty years ago. used to go round to tn,
school house and entertain him with accounts OF
old New York, when she had been able to stand on
hill where is now the Centre Market and watch the
vessels sailing up the harbor. She was then
short time after. When asked how much Longer
he expected to live. Barney's brow wrnkied
ana Ne mutterel something about his cough. He
chershes the remembrance of his native place but
has no desire to return to it. l the ould folks is
dead, he says. land the young wouldn't know
me- Betwain death and Amerky there's none o.
the name left to own the buryin' ground" While
on the subject Of death the old man de-
cared that "he'd never let them stretch him
out on the ice'' after he died There
used to be such thing as an ice box at
80 or $40; it's dodge to make money, and they
won't make it out of me- Some time after he took
his present lodgings the ownership of the property
was transferred to the hands of friend, to whom
Barney advanced the money for the purchase, on the
condition that he should pay rent till the debt
was outlawed in tie of time but the old man
still has his rooms rent Free Nevertheless he de-
nounces the whole arrangement as a damned
Shame. His family cannot prevail on him to move
to better quarters, there he remains, keeping
bachelors hall. his daughter-in-law occasionally
him. Though profane himself he hates his descend
ants to swear and when he hears them make use
OF an oath he reproves them with another.
FAMILY.
The Dorans are small but numerous. When their
ancestor came over in 1888 he had with him eight
shaver man of sixty. present when the reporter
called upon his father. His son, bright boy of
eleven, also in the room. Patrck's sister Brd-
get, married man named McCullum. and had five
children. two of whom were killed by falling from
the piazza in front OF their grandfathers house Her
whose daughter has two iving-old Barney's
only great grandchildren, four others having died.
John and james Doran likewise married and have
had several children, while Mrs. Mexican, of st.
Louis, has lost two three sons and daughters
After the picnic which he attended last year the CEN
tenarian's age published and he felt pretty
badly about It, IL can't pass for young man an
90 sDarkin' more he said