“What?--do you think, sir, I'm ungrateful to you? That's a sore cut, sir, to make a villain o' me. Where's the book?--I'll swear this minute. Have you a Bible, Ma'am?--I'll show you that I'm not mane, any way.” “No, Connell, you shall not do it rashly; you must be cool and composed: but go home, and turn it in your mind,” she replied; “and remember, that it is the request of me and my husband, for your own good.” “Neither must you swear before me,” said his landlord, “but before Mr. Mulcahy, who, as it is an oath connected with your moral conduct, is the best person to be present. It must be voluntary, however. Now, good-bye, Connell, and think of what we said; but take care never to carry home any of my servants in the same plight in which you put John Smith to-day.” “Faix thin, sir, he had no business, wid your honor's livery upon his back, to begin lecthurin' me again dhrinkin', as he did. We may all do very well, sir, till the timptation crasses us--but that's what thries us. It thried him, but he didn't stand it--faix he didn't!--ha, ha, ha! Good-mornin', sir--God bless you, Ma'am! Divil resave the family in all Europe”-- “Good-morning, Connell--good-morning! --Pray remember what we said.” Peter, however, could not relinquish the whiskey. His sons, daughters, friends, and neighbors, all assailed him, but with no success. He either bantered them in his usual way, or reverted to his loss, and sank into sorrow. This last was the condition in which they found him most intractable; for a man is never considered to be in a state that admits of reasoning or argument, when he is known to be pressed by strong gushes of personal feeling. A plan at length struck Father Mulcahy, which lie resolved to put into immediate execution. “Peter,” said he, “if you don't abandon drink, I shall stop the masses which I'm offering up for the repose of your wife's soul, and I will also return you the money I received for saying them.” This was, perhaps, the only point on which Peter was accessible. He felt staggered at such an unexpected intimation, and was for some time silent. “You will then feel,” added the priest, “that your drunkenness is prolonging the sufferings of your wife, and that she is as much concerned in your being sober as you are yourself.” “I will give in,” replied Peter; “I didn't see the thing in that light. No--I will give it up; but if I swear against it, you must allow me a rasonable share every day, an' I'll not go beyant it, of coorse. The truth is, I'd die soon if I gev it up altogether.” “We have certainly no objection against that,” said the priest, “provided you keep within what would injure your health, or make you tipsy. Your drunkenness is not only sinful but disreputable; besides, you must not throw a slur upon the character of your children, who hold respectable and rising situations in the world.”