The Purcell Papers, vol 3 | Page 8

his raverence seen him comin' in at the door, wid
the fair fright, he flung the bell at his head, an' hot him sich a lick iv it
in the forehead, that he sthretched him on the floor; but fain; he didn't
wait to ax any questions, but he cut round the table as if the divil was
afther him, an' out at the door, an' didn't stop even as much as to mount
an his mare, but leathered away down the borheen as fast as his legs
could carry him, though the mud was up to his knees, savin' your
presence.
Well, by the time Jim kem to himself, the family persaved the mistake,
an' Andy wint home, lavin' Nell to make the explanation. An' as soon as
Jim heerd it all, he said he was quite contint to lave her to Andy,
entirely; but the priest would not hear iv it; an' he jist med him marry
his wife over again, an' a merry weddin' it was, an' a fine collection for
his raverence. An' Andy was there along wid the rest, an' the priest put
a small pinnance upon him, for bein' in too great a hurry to marry a
widdy.
An' bad luck to the word he'd allow anyone to say an the business, ever
after, at all, at all; so, av coorse, no one offinded his raverence, by
spakin' iv the twelve pounds he got for layin' the sperit.
An' the neighbours wor all mighty well plased, to be sure, for gettin' all
the divarsion of a wake, an' two weddin's for nothin'

A

CHAPTER IN
THE HISTORY OF A TYRONE FAMILY
Being a Tenth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis Purcell, P.P.
of Drumcoolagh.
INTRODUCTION.
In the following narrative, I have endeavoured to give as nearly as
possible the ipsissima verba of the valued friend from whom I received
it, conscious that any aberration from HER mode of telling the tale of
her own life would at once impair its accuracy and its effect.
Would that, with her words, I could also bring before you her animated
gesture, her expressive countenance, the solemn and thrilling air and
accent with which she related the dark passages in her strange story;
and, above all, that I could communicate the impressive consciousness
that the narrator had seen with her own eyes, and personally acted in
the scenes which she described; these accompaniments, taken with the
additional circumstance that she who told the tale was one far too
deeply and sadly impressed with religious principle to misrepresent or
fabricate what she repeated as fact, gave to the tale a depth of interest
which the events recorded could hardly, themselves, have produced.
I became acquainted with the lady from whose lips I heard this
narrative nearly twenty years since, and the story struck my fancy so
much that I committed it to paper while it was still fresh in my mind;
and should its perusal afford you entertainment for a listless half hour,
my labour shall not have been bestowed in vain.
I find that I have taken the story down as she told it, in the first person,
and perhaps this is as it should be.
She began as follows:
My maiden name was Richardson,[1] the designation of a family of
some distinction in the county of Tyrone. I was the younger of two
daughters, and we were the only children. There was a difference in our
ages of nearly six years, so that I did not, in my childhood, enjoy that
close companionship which sisterhood, in other circumstances,
necessarily involves; and while I was still a child, my sister was
married.
[1] I have carefully altered the names as they appear in the original
MSS., for the reader will see that some of the circumstances recorded
are not of a kind to reflect honour upon those involved in them; and as

many are still living, in every way honoured and honourable, who stand
in close relation to the principal actors in this drama, the reader will see
the necessity of the course which we have adopted.
The person upon whom she bestowed her hand was a Mr. Carew, a
gentleman of property and consideration in the north of England.
I remember well the eventful day of the wedding; the thronging
carriages, the noisy menials, the loud laughter, the merry faces, and the
gay dresses. Such sights were then new to me, and harmonised ill with
the sorrowful feelings with which I regarded the event which was to
separate me, as it turned out, for ever from a sister whose tenderness
alone had hitherto more than supplied all that I wanted in my mother's
affection.
The day soon arrived which was to remove the happy couple from