I'm come, now--your own husband--him that loved you beyant everything on this earth, to tell you why the last wish o' my heart, which was to sleep where I ought to sleep, by your side, can't be granted to me, and to explain to you why it is, in case you'd miss me from my place beside you.

This unfortunate counthry, Bridget, has changed, an' is changin' fast for the worse.

The landlord hasn't proved himself to be towards us what he ought to be, and what we expected he would; an' so, rather than remain at the terms he axes from us, it's better for us to thry our fortune in America; bekaise, if we stay here, we must only come to poverty an' destitution, an' sorrow; an' you know how it 'ud break my heart to see our childre' brought to that, in the very place where they wor always respected.

They're all good to me, as they ever wor to' us both, acushla machree; but poor Bryan, that you loved so much--your favorite and your pride--has had much to suffer, darlin', since you left us; but blessed be God, he bears it manfully and patiently, although I can see by the sorrow on my boy's brow that the heart widin him is breakin'.

He's not, afther all, to be married, as you hoped and wished he would, to Kathleen Cavanagh.