"’Ye’re the kind av a man to have,’ says Missis Finn, shpakin’ up. ’Sure all wimmin isn’t blessed like your wife,’ says she, lookin’ at Finn, who let on to laugh when he wanted to shwear. They had some more discoorse, thin Finn an’ his wife wint on, but it put a big notion into her head. If the bogthrotter, that was only a little ottommy, ’ud go to work like that an’ make an aisey path for his owld woman to the shpring, phat’s the rayzon Finn cudn’t fall to an’ dig a path through the mountains, so she cud go to the say an’ to the church on the shore widout breakin’ her back climbin’ up an’ then agin climbin’ down. ’T was the biggest consate iver in the head av her, an’ she wasn’t wan o’ thim that ’ud let it cool aff for the want o’ talkin’ about it, so she up an’ towld it to Finn, an’ got afther him to do it. Finn wasn’t aiger for to thry, bekase it was Satan’s own job, so he held out agin all her scholdin’ an’ beggin’ an’ cryin’. Then she got sick on him, wid her headache, an’ wint to bed, an’ whin Finn was about she’d wondher out loud phat she was iver born for an’ why she cudn’t die. Then she’d pray, so as Finn ’ud hear her, to all the saints to watch over her big gossoon av a husband an’ not forget him just bekase he was a baste, an’ if Finn ’ud thry to quiet her, she’d pray all the louder, an’ tell him it didn’t matther, she was dyin’ an’ ’ud soon be rid av him an’ his brutal ways, so as Finn got half crazy wid her an’ was ready to do annything in the worruld for to get her quiet. [Illustration: "Finn gave in an’ wint to work wid a pick an’ sphade"] "Afther about a week av this thratemint, Finn give in an’ wint to work wid a pick an’ shpade on the Gray Man’s Path. But thim that says he made it in wan night is ignerant, for I belave it tuk him a month at laste; if not more. So that’s the thrue shtory av the Gray Man’s Path, as me grandfather towld it, an’ shows that a giont’s size isn’t a taste av help to him in a contist wid a woman’s jaw. "But to be fair wid her, I belave the onliest fault Finn’s wife had was, she was possist be the divil, an’ there’s thim that thinks that’s enough. I mind me av a young felly wan time that was in love, an’ so to be axcused, that wished he’d a hunderd tongues so to do justice to his swateheart. So afther that he marr’d her, an’ whin they’d been marr’d a while an’ she’d got him undher her fisht, says they to him, ’An’ how about yer hunderd tongues?’ ’Begorra,’ says he to thim agin, ’wid a hunderd I’d get along betther av coorse than wid wan, but to be ayquel to the waggin’ av her jaw I’d nade a hunderd t’ousand.’ "So it’s a consate I have that Missis Finn was not a haporth worse nor the rest o’ thim, an’ that’s phat me grandfather said too, that had been marr’d twict, an’ so knewn phat he was talkin’ about. An’ whin he towld the shtory av the Gray Man, he’d always end it wid a bit av poethry:—