“No,” said Peter, in a kind of soliloquy, “I'd lay down my life, avoumeen, sooner nor I'd cause you a minute's sufferin'. Father Mulcahy, go an wid the masses. I'll get an oath drawn up, an' whin it's done, I'll swear to it. I know a man that'll do it for me.” The priest then departed, quite satisfied with having accomplished his object; and Peter, in the course of that evening, directed his steps to the house of the village schoolmaster, for the purpose of getting him to “draw up” the intended oath. “Misther O'Flaherty,” said he, “I'm comin' to ax a requist of you an' I hope you'll grant it to me. I brought down a sup in this flask, an' while we're takin' it, we can talk over what I want.” “If it be anything widin the circumference of my power, set it down, Misther Connell, as already operated upon. I'd drop a pen to no man at keepin' books by double enthry, which is the Italian method invinted by Pope Gregory the Great. The Three sets bear a theological ratio to the three states of a thrue Christian. 'The Waste-book,' says Pope Gregory, 'is this world, the Journal is purgatory, an' the Ledger is heaven. Or it may be compared,' he says, in the priface of the work, 'to the three states of the Catholic church--the church Militant, the church Suffering and the church Triumphant.' The larnin' of that man was beyant the reach of credibility.” “Arra, have you a small glass, Masther? You see, Misther O'Flaherty, it's consarnin' purgatory, this that I want to talk about.” “Nancy, get us a glass--oh, here it is! Thin if it be, it's a wrong enthry in the Journal.” “Here's your health, Masther!--Not forgetting you, Mrs. O'Flaherty. No, indeed, thin it's not in the Journal, but an oath I'm goin' to take against liquor.” “Nothin' is asier to post than it is. We must enter it it undher the head of--let me see!--it must go in the spirit account, undher the head of Profit an' Loss, Your good health, Mr. Connell!--Nancy, I dhrink ta your improvement in imperturbability! Yes, it must be enthered undher the”---- “Faix, undher the rose, I think,” observed Pether; “don't you know the smack, of it? You see since I took to it, I like the smell o' what I used to squeeze out o' the barley myself, long ago. Mr. O'Flaherty, I only want you to dhraw up an oath against liquor for me; but it's not for the books, good or bad. I promised to Father Mulcahy, that I'd do it. It's regardin' my poor Ellish's sowl in purgatory.” “Nancy, hand me a slate an' cutter. Faith, the same's a provident resolution; but how is it an' purgatory concatenated?” “The priest, you see, won't go an wid the masses for her till I take the oath.” “That's but wake logic, if you ped him for thim.” “Faix, an' I did--an' well, too;--but about the oath? Have you the pencil?” “I have; jist lave the thing to me.” “Asy, Masther--you don't undherstand it yit. Put down two tumblers for me at home.” “How is that, Misther Connell?--It's mysterious, if you're about to swear against liquor!”