“But where is he now, Eman?” said one of them, “are you sure you seen him?”

“Seen him!” both exclaimed, “do you think we’d take to our scrapers like two hares, only we did; arrah, bad manners to you, do you think the coffin could walk up wid itself from the bridge to this, only he brought it?—­isn’t that enough?”

“Thrue for yez,” the rest exclaimed, “but what’s to be done?”

“Why to bring the coffin home, now that we’re all together,” another observed; “they say he never appears to more than two at wanst, so he won’t be apt to show himself now, when we’re together.”

“Well, boys, let two of you go down to it,” said one of them, “and we’ll wait here till yez bring it up.”

“Yes,” said Eman Dhu, “do you go down, Owen, as you have the Scapular* on you, and the jug of holy water in your hand, and let Billy M’Shane, here repate the confeethurs (* The Confiteor) along wid you.”

* The scapular is one of the highest religious orders, and is worn by both priest and layman.  It is considered by the people a safeguard against evil both spiritual and physical.

“Isn’t it the same thing, Eman,” replied Owen, “if I shake the holy water on you, and whoever goes wid you? sure you know that if only one dhrop of it touched you, the devil himself couldn’t harm you!”

“And what needs yourself be afraid, then,” retorted Eman; “and you has the Scapular on you to the back of that?  Didn’t you say, you war coming out, that if it was the devil, you’d disparse him?”

“You had betther not be mintioning his name, you omadhaun,” replied the other; “if I was your age, and hadn’t a wife and childre on my hands, it’s myself that would trust in God, and go down manfully; but the people are hen-hearted now, besides what they used to be in my time.”

During this conversation, I had resolved, if possible, to keep up the delusion, until I could get myself extricated with due secrecy out of this ridiculous situation; and I was glad to find that, owing to their cowardice, there was some likelihood of effecting my design.

“Ned,” said one of them to a little man, “go down and speak to it, as it can’t harm you.”

“Why sure,” said Ned, with a tremor in his voice, “I can speak to it where I am, widout going within rache of it.  Boys, stand close to me:  hem—­In the name of—­but don’t you think I had betther spake to it in the Latin I sarve mass* wid; it can’t but answer that, for the sowl of it, seeing it’s a blest language?”

* The person who serves mass, as it is called, is he who makes the responses to the priest during that ceremony.  As the mass is said in Latin the serving of it must necessarily fall upon many who are ignorant of that language, and whose pronunciation of it is, of course, extremely ludicrous.

“Very well,” the rest replied; “try that Ned; give it the best and ginteelest grammar you have, and maybe it may thrate us dacent.”