Ah, Bracky, the kind hand and the kind word that you liked so
well will never be wid you more--that low sweet song that you loved to
listen to, and that made you turn round while she was milkin' you, an'
lick her wid your tongue from pure affection--for what was there that
had life that didn't love her? That low, sweet song, Bracky, you will
never hear again. Well, Bracky, for her sake I'm come to tell you, this
sorrowful mornin', that while I have life an' the means of keepin' you,
from me an' them she loved you will never part."
While he spoke the poor animal, feeling from the habit of instinct that
the hour of! milking had arrived, turned round and uttered once or twice
that affectionate lowing with which she usually called upon the departed
to come and relieve her of her fragrant burthen. This was more than
the heart-broken man could bear, he walked back, and entering the
wake-house, in a burst of vehement sorrow--"Oh, Bridget, my wife, my
wife--is it any wondher we should feel your loss, when your favorite,
Bracky, is callin' for you; but you won't come to her--that voice that
so often charmed her will never charm the poor affectionate creature
again."
"Father dear," said Bryan, "if ever you were called upon to be a man it
is now."
"But, Byran, as God is to judge me," replied his father, "the cow--her
own cow--is callin' for her in the cow-house widin--its truth--doesn't
everything miss her--even poor Bracky feels as if she was dasarted.
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