'It is, my son, and in a very short time you'll be in the company of the Blessed Saints.'
'In that case, Father, I'll tell the devil he may just kiss my toe and bad luck to him for all the trouble I have had to get out of his clutches,' and the priest noticed his last sigh was one of complete satisfaction—no doubt anticipatory.
Purgatory forms the foundation of many stories.
A certain very poor widow was paying the priest money for the soul of her son, who was killed in a faction fight.
'And it's more masses you must have Mrs. Murphy, for Paddy has only got his red hair out of purgatory.'
Later, when she was asked for further contributions:—
'It's his mouth which is out now, and he sends his mother on earth messages to have prayers said to get him to heaven.'
A third time did Widow Murphy give the priest what she could not in the least afford.
Yet again he reported progress.
'Now you must make a great effort, for his head and shoulders are out of purgatory.'