Spring 1964 • Vol. XXVI No. 2 Three Irish Comedies |

A Bottle of Brown Sherry

Mr. Edward came home from hospital on the second day of the second summer holidays we spent at Delaps of Monellen. That was the year old John Considine the stonemason laid the black basalt flagged floor in the entrance hail of the hotel. While the work was going on the guests used a side door so that old John the craftsman, we the four children (and the only children allowed to holiday in that sedate house), the stuffed brown bear, the ornamental organ that wasn't meant to play, and the framed photograph of the big bearded man leaning on a long rifle and supporting a dead antlered stag on his shoulders had the hall all to ourselves. The big man in the picture, John told us, had also shot the bear. John as he worked told us an awful lot. "There's nothing," he would say, "like having a trade, even if it's only cutting thistles." He did not intend to belittle his own craft and, indeed, his old back arched with pride at his ability to lay the stones smoothly, gently as a mother

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Ireland

By Benedict Kiely

Mr. Edward came home from hospital on the second day of the second summer holidays we spent at Delaps of Monellen. That was the year old John Considine the stonemason […]

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