"And now, my dear son Terence, 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.
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