hat place owns them? My
tribe didn't come inside the province. Every generation was born and
bred in this or in some neighbouring townland.

_Mineog:_ Sure you will be but yourself whatever family may be
laying claim to you.

_Hazel:_ Any person of the Casserlys to have done a wrong deed at
any time, the neighbours would be watching and probing my own brood
till they would see might the track of it break out in any way. It
ran through our race to be hard tempered, from the Kanes that are
very hot.

_Mineog:_ Why would the family of the Casserlys go doing wrong
deeds more than another?

_Hazel:_ I would never forgive it, if it was the highest man in
Connacht said it.

_Mineog:_ I tell you there to be any flaw in them, it would have
worked itself out in yourself ere this.

_Hazel:_ Putting on me the weight of a family I never knew or
never heard the name of at all. It is that is killing me entirely.

_Mineog:_ Neither did I ever hear their name or if they ever lived
in the world, or did any deed good or bad in it at all.

_Hazel:_ What made you drag them hither for to write them in my
genealogies so?

_Mineog:_ I did not drag them hither----Give me that paper.
_(Takes MS. and looks at it.)_ What would it be but a misprint?
Hessian, Casserly. There does be great resemblance in the sound of a
double S.

_Hazel:_ Whether or no, you have a great wrong done me! The person
I had most dependence on to be the most person to annoy me! If it
was a man from the County Mayo I wouldn't see him treated that way!

_Mineog:_ Have sense now! What would signify anything might be
wrote about you, and the green scraws being over your head?

_Hazel:_ That's the worst! I give you my oath I would not go
miching from death or be in terror of the sharpness of his bones,
and he coming as at the Flood to sweep the living world along with me,
and leave no man on earth having penmanship to handle my deeds, or
to put his own skin on my story!

_Mineog:_ Ah it's likely the both of us will be forgotten and our
names along with us, and we out in the meadow of the dead.

_Hazel:_ I will not be forgotten! I have posterity will put a good
slab over me. Not like some would be left without a monument, unless
it might be the rags of a cast waistcoat would be put on sticks in a
barley garden, to go flapping at the thieves of the air.

_Mineog:_ Let the birds or the neighbours go screech after me and
welcome, and I not in it to hear or to be