The Miser's Coffin.
Once upon a time, just outside a small town in the
west of Ireland:
There lived a family called Murphy.
Dermot Murphy was a big, strong man but he was known
by the locals as ‘the poor mouth’ because of his miserly ways. However his wife
Mary was a small, pretty woman who was always willing to help anyone, as was
his daughter Brigit.
The land they lived on was poor, boggy and not much
use for anything. The Murphy’s cottage was by the side of the road, at the
bottom end of the garden there grew a small oak tree. The cottage was small with a kitchen, living
room and two small bedrooms. Their water was supplied by a well in the garden
and they had no electricity as Dermot believed it to be the work of the
devil. The real reason was he didn’t
want to pay the bill.
Dermot Murphy was a mean looking man; he was cruel
and refused to part with a single penny for anything unless it benefited
himself. So mean in fact that when his
poor wife Mary died he refused to buy her a decent coffin or even to pay for a
burial plot in the local cemetery. He bought the cheapest wooden box he could
find then buried her in a shallow grave at the bottom of the garden near the
oak tree His daughter Brigit was
extremely upset at the way her poor mother was treated, and although she cried
and begged her father to give her a decent burial it was to no avail.
Dermot wasn’t poor; in fact he had a great deal of
gold coins that he kept in a leather purse that he hid behind a loose stone
inside the fireplace. Every night when
his daughter went to bed he would take out the purse and count his money by
candlelight. If he heard his daughter
stirring he would quickly hide the purse under his jacket and tell her to go to
sleep and stop trying to spy on him.
When he was satisfied that his money was all there he would put it back
behind the stone in the fireplace.
One night, about a year after her mother’s death, Dermot
was sat counting his money as normal. Brigit
came into the room, she said that she wasn’t feeling very well and she asked
her father to get the doctor.
Of course the first thing her father thought of was
the cost,
“Arragh, don’t be worrying, it’s only a bit of a
pain, go on back to bed, you’ll be fine in the morning”
Brigit was in no state to argue, she was pale and
clammy. She did as her father told her
and went back to her bed. A short while
later her father heard her groaning and she came back into the room again. This time she looked dreadful and once more
begged him to get the doctor.
“Will ye go back to bed and don’t be spying on me”
he said.
Once more she did as she was told, he heard her
groaning for a while, and then there was silence.
Later that night Dermot was happy his money was all
correct, he put it back into its hiding place and was just about to go to his
bed when he thought he’d look in on his daughter. He found her half in and half out of her
little bed. She was very quiet; he felt her face...it felt cold, very
cold. It suddenly dawned on him, she was
dead.
Dermot was very upset as this would be costly but
then he had an idea, he would bury her next to her mother. That way he’d save money and they could keep
each other company. After the burial, Dermot was once again sat counting his
money when a fierce storm began. It was
as bad as the Night of the big wind in 87.
The following morning the local townspeople were sorting out the damage
to their properties. They didn’t notice
that Dermot didn’t visit the local pub to get his few ounces of tobacco and a
pint. However, when no one saw him for a
few days, the locals began to wonder where he’d got to. They decided to pay him a visit.
When they arrived at Murphy’s cottage they noticed
that there was some damage caused by the storm.
At the bottom of the garden they saw that the little oak tree had been
uprooted and that in the middle of the garden there was a coffin. As they went through the gate and approached
the cottage one of the locals shouted out and pointed. Halfway in and halfway out of the front door
was another coffin. They looked through the window and there they saw Dermot
Murphy. He was sat upright in his chair,
he was as stiff as a board, his eyes frozen, staring horribly, and his mouth
wide open as if screaming in terror. One
hand raised, as if trying to protect himself, the other seemed to be pointing
at the coffin which was half open.
In the coffin lay Brigit, peaceful in death, her
hands joined together as if in prayer.
It was the normal custom to bury the corpse with the hands holding a set
of rosary beads. However, the locals saw
that instead of holding a rosary, Brigit was clutching a leather purse. When they prised the purse out of her hands
they found it to be full of gold coins.
They counted it out and found that there was just enough money to buy
new oak coffins, one for Brigit and one for her mother Mary and to pay for a
decent pair of plots in the local cemetery.
Unfortunately, there was not enough money left to
bury Dermot. However, the locals managed
to use the wood salvaged from the cheap coffins Murphy had buried his wife and
daughter in. They buried him at the end
of the garden, where the oak tree used to be.
There has to be a moral there..somewhere,
Keep smiling.
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