The Washington times., 1901-10-20
II 7'h8Cra88O' th6Crau0S

] had strolled into the churchyard OF
Ballycarney. partly because OF it's quaint
old gravestones and partly for a peep at
the lichened church through which Non
CromweIrs cannon balls had whistied
their war hymns To my disgust found
the sacred enclosure everywhere infs sted
by goats Goats browsed among the
tombs, clanking their hobbling chains
over the graves of the departed. There
were goats in the ruined chancel. where
those rugged chieftaius the O'Carneys, of
Ballycarney rested shoulder to shoulder.
There were goats in the bleak, nettle-
grown space towards the nOrth-Bally-
carney's potter's field One could scarcely
stir for goats. of every size. color, and
age. from the ili-tempered patriarch Of
his tribe to the kid cf yesterdays wean-
ing.
1t was not strange, under these circun-
stances, that should anathematize goats.
l did 50. and with emphasis. The words
were hardly out of my mouth ito use
an Irish dion) when from the old church
there stepped forth grey and wizened
hunchback. II was Danny NowIan, the
parish sexton, tuteiary genius of the
place.
| little grave digger, ''for spakin words
the like o. them. Little ye know. I'll go
bail. that my goats are no common ones.
| Little ye think that comes among them
wild gibe on your 1ips that the sowl of
man dwells under the hairy hide of every
goat in Ballycarney churchyard"'
l have fads of my own, and lunacy is
but an exaggeration of the fad. So did
not smile at the queer hunchback. crazy
as he seemed to be. Instead, craved
his indulgence and the pardon of his
goats, pleading ignorance in excuse for
my hasty language.
Danny Nowlan was Modified. Sure an
If ye didn't know" he said, eye couldn't
be expected to understand. Sit ye down
on the stone there-'tis ould Sir Godfrey
O'Carney's by the same token-an' III be
tellin ye all about myself an the goats
1 took my seat accordingly upon Sir
Geoffreys sepulchre, while Danny ex-
pounded to me what he termed his '-thay-
ory." ''As sexton O. the churchyard.'' he
said, 81 have the rights o. the
grass-meanin'. dye see, that / can Craze
any bastes belongin' to me on the graves
An tbs good. rich grass, your honor, that
grows in these churchyards. But the
stun that's in the grass. sure. that diff
fers wsd every grave-an' that's where
my thayory begins
''I started wild one solitary goat because
I was poor then, an hadn't learned wis
dom. That single goat. combined wild
natural gift of observation, taught me all
| know Today / have a neat house be-
yant. an five-an'- fifty pound in the Kill
more Bank. All along O. the goats-an
the grass o. the graves.
You see, 1 didn't like to put my one
goat on the graves o. the dacint people,
because I thought their ciilder an them
that belonged to them mightn't like 1t.
So l just hobbled my lad over beyant,
where the potter's field is, an all the
tramps an ne'er-do-wells are laid. Would
ye believe It? After three weeks feedin'
in the potter's field, chains an staples
couldn't hould that goat! He became the
worst blackguard an the worst wanderer
-savin your presence. for tbs a wanderer
you are yourself-in the barony o. Sieve
carney. Divil a day but had to go stra-
vaiglin afther him-a mighty hard thing
for a poor boy wild back like mine,
avic.
We'll. one nlornin' while was leadin'
Oliver Crummle q called him Crummle
because l knew no good of him)-while
I was leadin him back to his ould quar-
| ters in the pOtters field, word came to me
/, of buryln So I just tied Oliver to the
| nearest tombstone an left him there. I
never noticed at the time that the grave
belonged to Father Roger Kavanagh
God rest his soulD-the best priest an
the best man that ever died in the par
ish of Ballycarney. Ye can tell what a
! saint Father Roger was by seein' the
little they have to say about him on the
stone-for tbs mostly the best men that
have the shortest epitaphs. Father Rog-
er's real tomb is in the poor peoples
hearts; for tbs the good, honest man he
was entirely.
Anyhow, 1 left Ear goat overnight cn
the priests grave. Next day, when 1 got
out o. bed. 1 remembered him; an. says
1 to myself, IN go bail my ould Crum-
nile is halfway to Castle Carney by this
time So out l goes; an there, If you'll
, believe me, was Oliver Crummle, squattin'
aisily on his hunkers, eatin' away at the
grass on Father Rogers grave. just as
If he had never strolled a furiong from
the spot in his life.
- 'Arrah, then, Oliver, ma boucha says
| /, If your new quarters suit you SO well.
| you may as well stick to them. So
| there he stayed. tied to the priests tomb.
your honour. that goat got so welI-be-
/ haved that / took the chain OF his leg
I altogether. You couldn't coax him away
| from the churchyard: an he used to look
so sad when I called him 'Crummle' that
l changed his name to owen Roe The
farmers heard tell Of his convarsion, an
came from miles around to see him. In
his ould wicked days he used to ask moth
in better than to break out an eat Mad
am Carney's fancy garden hedges =. the
.-a-%I.. II
Madam Carney that, pom my sowkins,
she offered me five guineas for the cray
thur Wild the money l bought two young
goats instead o one. But | larned les
son from Owen Roe. late Oliver CrummIe.
No more goats went to Craze in potter's
field. l kept them tied to the pillars o