And he took it away with him, to the gladness of the wife, who hated the woman her husband had in the frame, and to the grief of the man, who could see his father no more.
But in the church was the picture of a holy man.
Quite the folklore quality.
I heard a story of a well-known Dublin priest, Father Healy, very witty and very kindly, who was invited by a millionaire, probably a brewer, to go on a cruise with him.
Over the seas they sailed and landed at many ports, and the priest could not put his hand into his pocket, for he was the guest of the millionaire.
At last they returned to Dublin and the millionaire, being a man of simplicity of character, the two took a tram to their destination.
"Now it's my turn," said the priest, with a twinkle in his eye, and, putting his hand in his pocket, he paid the fare for the two.
A Dublin Ice Cart