ence, the real purport of this letter, which
is just to put to your soul's conscience, as a dutiful son, whether
you ought not to send me a small matter of money to save your poor
father's soul from pain and anguish--for it's no joke that being in
purgatory, I can tell you; and you wouldn't care how soon you were
tripped out of it yourself. I only wish you had but your little toe in
it, and then you'd burn with impatience to have it out again. But
you're a dutiful son, so I'll say no more about it--a nod's as good as
a wink to a blind horse.

"When your mother goes, which, with the blessing of God, will be in a
very little while, seeing that she has only to follow her senses,
which are gone already, I'll take upon myself to sell everything, as
worldly goods and chattels are of no use to dead people; and I have no
doubt but that, what with the furniture and the two cows, and the
pigs, and the crops in the ground, there will be enough to save her
soul from the flames, and bury her dacently into the bargain. However,
as you are the heir-at-law, seeing that the property is all your own,
I'll keep a debtor and creditor account of the whole; and should there
be any over, I'll use it all out in masses, so as to send her up to
heaven by express; and if there's not sufficient, she must remain
where she is till you come back and make up the deficiency. In the
meanwhile I am your loving father in the faith,

"URTAGH M'GRATH."

Chapter LII

Good sense in Swinburne--No man a hero to his valet de chambre, or a
prophet in his own country--O'Brien takes a step by strategy--O'Brien
parts with his friend, and Peter's star no longer in the ascendant.

O'Brien was sorry for the death of his father, but he could not feel as
most people would have done, as his father had certainly never been a
father to him. He was sent to sea to be got rid of, and ever since he
had been there, had been the chief support of his family; his father was
very fond of whiskey, and not very fond of exertion. He was too proud of
the true Milesian blood in his veins to do anything to support himself,
but not too proud to live upon his son's hard-earned gains. For his
mother O'Brien felt very much; she had always been kind and
affectionate, and was very fond of him. Sailors, however, are so
estranged from their families when they have been long in their
profession and so accustomed to vicissitudes, that no grie