There is no law that an Irish squire must spend all his time cock-fighting." "These vows!" murmured Hetty, flinging herself back in her favourite attitude and nursing her knee.

"If folks will not obey Christ's command and swear not at all, they might at least choose a vow which only hurts themselves.

Now, papa"-- Hetty shot a glance at her mother, who felt it, even in the dusk, and bent her eyes on the smouldering fire.

The girl had heard (for it was kitchen gossip) that Mr.Wesley had once quarrelled with his wife over politics, and left Epworth rectory vowing never to return to her until she acknowledged William III.

for her rightful king; nor indeed had returned until William's death made the vow idle and released him.
"Now, papa"-- after a pause--"has an unfortunate habit, like Jephthah, of swearing to another's hurt.