"The
rest was sent to him," said Mrs. M'Kennedy, through her choking grief,
"but it was too late; before it arrived he was dead." Thus, through the
whole of that, to her dreadful week, she had for her family of five
persons about half a weight of potatoes,[181] small and bad, which were
given to her by a kind neighbour, Mick Sweeney (God bless him, she said,
for he often relieved us), two pints of flour, and one head of cabbage.
It is no great marvel that the man who was trying to work on his share
of such provision was dead on Saturday. In M'Kennedy we have a specimen
of the people to whom the Board of Works insisted on giving task work.
"For the three weeks he was at work," said his wife at the inquest, "he
got two shillings and sixpence, being one week's pay." There was a
fortnight's wages due to him the day he died. "Even if his hire was
regularly paid," she added, "it would not support the family; but it
would enable us to drag on life, and he would be alive to-day."
Jeremiah Donovan, the steward of the works at Caharagh, deposed that
M'Kennedy was at work the morning of the day on which he died. On that
morning he saw the deceased leave his work and go to the ditch-side;
seeing him stop so long, he told him to return to his work.
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