"
The children, however, did not give Peter up as hopeless. Father
Mulcahy, too, once-more assailed him on his weak side. One morning, when
he was sober, nervous, and depressed, the priest arrived, and finding
him at home, addressed him as follows:--
"Peter, I'm sorry, and vexed, and angry this morning; and you are the
cause of it"
"How is that, your Reverence?" said Peter. "God help me," he added,
"don't be hard an me, sir, for I'm to be pitied. Don't be hard on me,
for the short time I'll be here. I know it won't be long--I'll be wid
her soon. Asthore machree, we'll' be together, I hope, afore long--an',
oh! if it was the will o' God, I would be glad if it was afore night!"
The poor, shattered, heart-broken creature wept bitterly, for he felt
somewhat sensible of the justice of the reproof which he expected from
the priest, as well as undiminished sorrow for his wife.
"I'm not going to be hard on you," said the good-natured priest; "I only
called to tell you a dream that your son Dan had last night about you
and his mother."
"About Ellish! Oh, for heaven's sake what about her, Father, avourneen?"
"She appeared to him, last night," replied Father Mulcahy, "and told him
that your drinking kept her out of happiness."
"Queen of heaven!" exclaimed Peter, deeply affected, "is that true? Oh,"
said he, dropping on his knees, "Father, ahagur machree, pardon me--oh,
forgive me! I now promise, solemnly and seriously, to drink neither
in the house nor out of it, for the time to come, not one drop at all,
good, bad, or indifferent, of either whiskey, wine, or punch--barrin'
one glass.
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