The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1908-09-26
CHARACTER observation-disclosures.
THE VILLAGE SEXTON.
(Written for the Intermountain Cath
olic0

| lMrllIen Tor the lntermOunIa1n
olic.l
Those whom our dear Doctor Gerald
fails to cure. well, Felix Durkin, the
village sexton. buries with all the hon.
ors of war. A small, thin, wiery man
Felix is, with sunken eyes, bushy eye
| browS, long lantern face, of the Sallow
| complexion. and a hooked nose. that al
most completely shadows the upper lip
step 1t Long" the people call him,
on account of the length of his step,
which is. indeed, surprising in so small
a man, but Felix is all legs and no body.
| Put a coat. an ould frieze coat on
tongs," said Jim Scully, to his COM
paniOns. land you have ,Durkin." I
never saw Felix laugh or smile: per-
haps it was to be in harmony with the
mournfulness of his profession, and idle
gossip he never listened to. As regards
a paper, he never read one, nor on any
account would he allow one to enter
his house. You know" Felix would
say, his thumbs stuck deep in his waist
coat pocket, that the man that filters
(fritterS) his time reading the papers
will be moved about by the wind ov
every doctrine, as Father Tom says,
always rattlin like our Jay Pap's Jus
tice Of the peace weathercock, an
never pointing in the right direction. Be
the hockey pokey (the usual curse of
Felix Durkin) he will l see Felix strid
ing UP the village street, dressed in
frieZe coat corduroy trousers and soft
hat, striding as if his life depended on
the length of every stride, to ring the
Angelus bell. He has no clock or watch,
but, closing one eye. he looks at the
sun and guesses the hour by it; but to
make sure, he calls into Biddy Brien's,
and, standing at her half door, he calls
out, in strenuous tones:
''MissuS Brien, what time is il be
yer clock, iv We plaze?"
The children of the village dreaded
him, especially if they were playing
around the tOmbstones in the grave
yard, and, with a cry of Here's Step
1t Long" they would scuttle off to their
homes. His wife Mary was very much
afraid of him. and he always addressed
her as Woman" His one great en-
envy were hens; he seemed to have them
on the brain, and Mary had to take
great care never to allow them into
the house or garden, for if Felix caught
them transgressing once, Mary would
it for months to come Felix
was the owner of a small, poor garden,
in which he used to SOW potatoes and
black oats. 1 see him there leaning on
his spade and gesticulating wildly, with
a large stone in his right hand at Peggy
Grimes hens, who are trembling in the
clay on their owners street, not with
in a good ten yards of his garden wall,
and his loud shrill HE kark' (cearc)
resounds up the village. When Felix
was asked TO perform any of the duties
pertaining to a sexton, such as to make
a grave, he would answer as majesi-
cally and dramatically as the Black
Rod of the House of Commons, 1T shall
be done" ITS hard enough, boys, to
die and be berrit,' said Jim Scully, but
it's the divil entirely to die an be ber-
rit by Durllin.'' Visit Felix Durllin in
his home at night after his days work
is done. He is seated on a low stool.
with his long legs thrust out at either
side of the small turf fire and his head
reclining almost on his knees. An old
Felix never smoked. mo one only the
laydens (heathens) smoked" was his
1ictum), and his eyes are fixed eter-
1ally on the blaze. What he is think
ng about no one knows, and Mary, his |
better part, has the sense not to ask |
him, for Mary knows by experience |
what is in store for her if she inter-
'upts his reverie. Many an evening |
nave / seen Felix seated there Many |
IN evening when / was a little boy |
AN down the road from my own home |
o Felix Durkin's cottage, with my |
ieart full of eXpectation-for what dear |
'eader-for match box, which poor |
Nary Durkin would have for me. |
liked match boxes then; I like them |
low. if l have a pipe filled with good |
obacco. With what feeling of dread |
would l approach the half door, and |
in nd fhrOllorl1 in
he cross wall to see if Felix was at |
lone, and if my bette noir, my DOGGY |
nan. was there. not all the fascination |
If thousand match boxes would make |
ne enter. / never read about those
witches in Macbeth, singing their dire |
over their fire, but / am
eminded of poor Felix Durkin, only
lis incarnation or what you WILL was
silent one. Instructions parochial,
uch as wedding the walks or graves,
ie never took from the curate. Such
Instructions should always come from
he parish priest, Father Tom All the
alters sermons Felix knew by heart,
md the subject he would preach on for
he Sundays to come. Next Sunday"
Felix would say to his listeners, I'VE
will have the Finance Sarmin'; the
sunday after the Scandal WAN" and
Father Tom deviated in any way
rom the old course, Felix would be
tightly displeased and would be sure
o mutter. It's new theology that's
ONE out" ! once saw Felix make a
rave. / was coming home from
chool with another little boy, and Curl
sity impelled us to peep across the
graveyard wall, and there inside the
vail. not ten yards away, we saw a
Mound of clay, and now and again a
ead appear as it's owner threw up
resh shovelfuls. Fascinated, we con-
inued to gaze, and then, oh! l shall
lever forget it, A voice began to sing
n all the major and minor keys of
voc:
"Quid sum miser tune disturus,
QUEEN patronum rogaturus,
QUEEN vim Justin at securus.
Felix Durkin made no grave without
singing those lines. How or where he
them I do not know. but the