“Faix, plase your honor, asy enough,” replied Peter; “he began to lecthur me about! dhrinkin’ so, says I, ‘Come an’ sit down behind the hedge here, an’ we’ll talk it over between us;’ so we went in, the two of us, a-back o’ the ditch—­an’ he began to advise me agin dhrink, an’ I began to tell him about her that’s gone, sir.  Well, well! och, och! no matther!—­So, sir, one story an’ one pull from the bottle, brought on another, for divil a glass we had at all, sir.  Faix, he’s a tindher-hearted boy, anyhow; for as myself I begun to let the tears down, whin the bottle was near out, divil resave the morsel of him but cried afther poor Ellish, as if she had been his mother.  Faix, he did!  An’ it won’t be the last sup we’ll have together, plase goodness!  But the best of it was, sir, that the dhrunker he got, he abused me the more for dhrinkin’.  Oh, thin, but he’s the pious boy whin he gets a sup in his head!  Faix, it’s a pity ever he’d be sober, he talks so much scripthur an’ devotion in his liquor!”

“Connell,” said the landlord, “I am exceedingly sorry to hear that you have taken so openly and inveterately to drink as you have done, ever since the death of your admirable wife.  This, in fact, was what occasioned me to send for you.  Come into the parlor.  Don’t go, my dear; perhaps your influence may also be necessary.  Gallagher, look to Smith, and see that every attention is paid him, until he recovers the effects of his intoxication.”

He then entered the parlor, where the following dialogue took place between him and Peter:—­

“Connell, I am really grieved to hear that you have become latterly so incorrigible a drinker; I sent for you to-day, with the hope of being able to induce you to give it up.”

“Faix, your honor, it’s jist what I’d expect from your father’s son—­kindness, an’ dacency, an’ devotion, wor always among yez.  Divil resave the family in all Europe I’d do so much for as the same family:” 

The gentleman and lady looked at each other, and smiled.  They knew that Peter’s blarney was no omen of their success in the laudable design they contemplated.

“I thank you, Peter, for your good opinion; but in the meantime allow me to ask, what can you propose to yourself by drinking so incessantly as you do?”

“What do I propose to myself by dhrinkin’, is it?  Why thin to banish grief, your honor.  Surely you’ll allow that no man has reason to complain who’s able to banish the thief for two shillins a-day.  I reckon the whiskey at first cost, so that it doesn’t come to more nor that at the very outside.”

“That is taking a commercial view of affliction, Connell; but you must promise me to give up drinking.”

“Why thin upon my credit, your honor astonishes me.  Is it to give up banishin’ grief?  I have a regard for you, sir, for many a dalin we had together; but for all that, faix, I’d be miserable for no man, barrin’ for her that’s gone.  If I’d be so to oblage any one, I’d do it for your family; for divil the family in all Europe “—­