'''For Richer for Poorer' 23 



news, when It broke, caused a bit of a surprise. My wife 

 had once been west of the Adirondacks, once south to New 

 York, and once north to North Haven. 



She had lived in Brookhne, surrounded by untold cohorts 

 of Bowditches, Higginsons, and Cabots, all kin, and many 

 of them what in Charleston would be called "kissin' kin." 

 I do not have to enlarge upon the fact that she is a strong- 

 minded and masterful person; if you belong in these clans 

 you are that automatically. I cry at funerals and at movies 

 and at certain types of music, particularly "The Flowers 

 of the Forest" on a good pipes band. She always has her 

 emotions completely in hand. She is as bold and daring, 

 especially in facing misfortune, as I am shrinking and cow- 

 ardly. 



The day after Rosamond and I were married we sailed 

 on the Ivernia for Queenstown. My father's family came 

 from Northern Ireland, and in 1906 a number of his uncles 

 were still alive and were keen to have a look at my bride. 

 I cannot remember now which one gave the party, but a 

 celebration was staged in honor of our arrival. A big bar- 

 rel of Jamieson's, not too old, was put out on the lawn 

 for the benefit of all and sundry. The next day I met Danny 

 Ferris, one of the gardeners, and asked him if he had had 

 a good time. He said, "Oh, God, Mr. Tommy, I could 

 neither stand up, nor sit down, nor roll on the ground." 

 He must have been really tight. Pat Dooley told me that 

 his wife had bitten him. And he added, "I was only bit 

 but twice in me life, once by me ass and once by me 

 woman. And yesterday I wished to God the ass had swal- 

 lowed me." 



My Uncle James's two old gardeners, bosom friends, 



