At Clancy’s Wake.

Scene—Room in the house of the lamented Clancy. The curtains are pulled down. A perfume of old roses and whisky hangs in the air. A weeping woman in black it seated at a table in the centre. A group of wide-eyed children are sobbing in a corner. Down the side of the room is a row of mourning friends of the family. Through an open door can be seen, half hidden in shadows, the silver and black of a coffin.

Widow—Oh, wirra, wirra, wirra!

Children—B-b boo-hoo-hoo!

Friends (conversing in low tones)—Yis, Moike Clancy was a foine mahn, sure! None betther! No, I don’t t’ink so. Did he? Sure, all th’ elictions! He was th’ bist in the warrud! He licked ‘im widin an inch of his loife, aisy, an’ th’ other wan a big, shtrappin’ buck of a mahn, an’ him jes’ free of th’ pneumonia! Yis, he did! They carried th’ warrud by six hunder! Yis, he was a foine mahn. None betther. Gawd sav’ ‘im!

(Enter Mr. Slick, of the “Daily Blanket,” shown in by a maid-servant, whose hair has become disarranged through much tear-shedding. He is attired in a suit of grey check, and wears a red rose in his buttonhole.)

Mr. Slick—Good afternoon, Mrs. Clancy. This is a sad misfortune for you, isn’t it?

Widow—Oh, indade, indade, young mahn, me poor heart is bruk.

Mr. Slick—Very sad, Mrs. Clancy. A great misfortune, I’m sure. Now, Mrs. Clancy, I’ve called to—

Widow—Little did I t’ink, young mahn, win they brought poor Moike in that it was th’ lasht!

Mr. Slick (with conviction)—True! True! Very true, indeed. It was a great grief to you, Mrs. Clancy. I’ve called this morning, Mrs. Clancy, to see if I could get from you a short obituary notice for the Blanket if you could—

Widow—An’ his hid was done up in a rag, an’ he was cursin’ frightful. A damned Oytalian lit fall th’ hod as Moike was walkin’ pasht as dacint as you plaze. Win they carried ‘im in, him all bloody, an’ ravin’ tur’ble ‘bout Oytalians, me heart was near bruk, but I niver tawt—I niver tawt—I—I niver—(Breaks forth into a long, forlorn cry. The children join in, and the chorus echoes wailfully through the rooms.)