"Ah, troth, its thrue for yer honour, I am grateful," she replied, in a whining discordant tone, which astonished the worthy parson.
"Of course you are, my good woman, of course you are—but I mean to say, don't you feel that every moment you live is too short to express your thankfulness to this kind Providence for what he has done?"
"Ah, darlin', it's all thrue, he's very good, he's mighty kind, so he is."
"Why then, not acknowledge it in a different manner?" said the parson, with some heat—"has he not housed you, and fed you, and clothed you?"
"Yes, alanah, he done it all."
"Well, where is your gratitude for all these mercies?"
"Ah, sure if he did," said the old crone, roused at length by the importunity of the questioner—"sure if he did, doesn't he take it out o' me in the corns?"