“But,” said I, (desirous of drawing him out,) “they never fail to take the name of J—s on every silly occasion. Sure there’s no reason in _that_?” “Yes, but there is, Master Jonah,” said Heney: “in the owld time, when the English used to be cutting and hacking, starving and burning the poor Irish, and taking all their lands, cattle and goods from them, the crethurs were always praying to Jesus and his holy Mother to save them from the Sassanaghs: and so, praying to Jesus grew so _pat_, that now they can’t help it.” “But then, Michael,” said I, “the commandments!” “Poo-o! what have the crethurs to do with the commandments? Sure it’s the Jews, and not the poor Catholics, that have to do with them: and sure the parliament men make many a law twice as strong as any commandments; and the very gentlemen that made those said laws don’t observe their own enactments, except it suits their own purposes—though every ’sizes some of the _crethurs_ are hanged for breaking one or two of them.” Heney was now waxing warm on the subject, and I followed him up as well as I could. “Why, Mick, I wonder, nevertheless, that your clergy don’t put a stop to the practice: perpetually calling on the name of our Redeemer, without any substantial reason for so doing, is certainly bad.” “And what better name could they call on, Master Jonah?” said Heney. “Why should the clergy hinder them? It’s only putting them in mind of the name they are to be saved by. Sure there’s no other name could do them a pennyworth of good or grace. It’s well for the crethurs they have that same name to use. As father Doran says, pronouncing the glorified name puts them in mind every minute of the only friend any poor Irish boy can depend upon; and there can be no sin in reminding one of the place we must all go to, and the Holy Judge we’ll be all judged by at the latter end. Sure it’s not Sergeant Towler,[14] or the likes of him, you’d have the crethurs swearing by, Master Jonah. He makes them remember _him_ plentifully when he comes to these parts.” ----- Footnote 14: Toler, now Lord Norbury, of whom the common people had a great dread. ----- “And even the schoolmasters don’t punish young children for the same thing,” remarked I. “Why should they?” rejoined Michael Heney. “Sure Mr. Beal, though he’s a Protestant, does not forbid it.” “How so?” “Why, because he says if he did, it would encourage disobedience to their parents, which is by all clergy forbidden as a great sin as well as shame.” “Disobedience!” said I, in wonder. “Yes; the fathers and mothers of the _childer_ generally curse and swear their own full share every day, at any rate: and if the master told the childer it was a great sin, they would consider their fathers and mothers wicked people, and so despise and fly in their faces!” “But, surely you are ordered not to take God’s name in vain?”