As the coffin, which had been resting upon two chairs, was about to be removed, the grief of her family became loud and vehement.
"Oh, Bridget!" exclaimed her husband, "and is it to come to this at last! And you are lavin' us for evermore! Don't raise the coffin," he proceeded, "don't raise it.

Oh! let us not part wid her till to-morrow; let us know that she's undher the same roof wid us until then.

An', merciful Father, when I think where you're goin' to bring her to! Oh! there lies the heart now widout one motion--dead and cowld--the heart that loved us all as no other heart ever did! Bridget, my wife, don't you hear me?
But the day was that you'd hear me, an' that your kind an' lovin' eye would turn on me wid that smile that was never broken.

Where is the wife that was true?
Where is the lovin' mother, the charitable heart to the poor and desolate, and the hand that was ever ready to aid them that was in distress?
Where are they all now?
There, dead and cowld forever, in that coffin.

What has become of my wife, I say?
What is death at all, to take all we love from us this way?
But sure God forgive me for saying so, for isn't it the will of God?
but oh! it is the heaviest of all thrials to lose such a woman as she was!" Old grandfather, as he was called, had latterly become very feeble, and was barely able to be out of bed on that occasion.