3 1 



at the foot of the coffin, and seems to be the 

 only mourner at the ceremony. What a day 

 to be buried among the docks and darnels of 

 Scullahone graveyard, a cemetery within earshot 

 of the melancholy ocean, on whose tombstones 

 the cormorants come unmolested to digest 

 their dinners ! Here is the road-side cabin of 

 the widow Brien. The widow Brien is famous 

 for rearing turkeys, and there is a legend ex- 

 tant that she once raised a turkey of such size 

 and power that an enterprising bocogh (cripple) 

 purchased him for yoking to a sledge, in which 

 the monster fowl used to draw him at fairs and 

 other festive gatherings. The widow Brien 

 dusts a chair for the weatherbound sportsman, 

 and not being unused to such offices pre- 

 sents him with a towel to dry his gun with. 

 A Government functionary a gentleman who 

 drives her Majesty's mail through a gap in the 

 postal railway service of the district is refresh- 

 ing himself at the hearth by making love to 

 the widow Brien's daughter. The girl is a 

 small healthy brunette, with liquid brown eyes 

 and little hands the nuttiest of nut-brown 

 maids, with an arch, shy, coquettish welcome 



