ictuals."

"I hope, sir," said the stranger, much amused in the meantime, but with
every courtesy of manner, "that my request for a short interview does
not come at an unseasonable hour?"

"And, do you hear me, you bosthoon," proceeded his reverence--this,
however, he uttered sotto voce, from an apprehension lest the stranger
should hear his benevolent purposes--"did you give the half crown to
Widow Magowran, whose children, poor creatures, are lying ill of fever?"

Not a word to the stranger, who, however, overheard him.

"I did, plaise your reverence," replied the huge servant.

"What did she say," asked the other, "when you slipped it to her?"

"She said nothing, sir, for a minute or so, but dropped on her knees,
and the tears came from her eyes in such a way that I couldn't help
letting down one or two myself. 'God spare him,' she then said, 'for
his piety and charity makes him a blessin' to the parish.' Throth, I
couldn't help lettin' down a tear or two myself."

"You couldn't now." exclaimed the simple-hearted priest; "why, then, I
forgive you the pigs, you great, good-natured bosthoon."

The stranger now thought that he might claim some notice from his
reverence.

"I fear, sir," said he--

"And whisper, Mat," proceeded the priest--paying not the slightest
attention to him, "did you bring the creel of turf to poor Barney
Farrell and his family, as I desired you?"

"I did, your reverence, and put a good heap on it for the creatures."

"Well, I forgive you the pigs!" exclaimed the benevolent priest,
satisfied that his pious injunctions had been duly observed, and
extending a portion of his good feeling to the instrument; "and as for
the appetite I spoke of, sure, you good-natured giant you, haven't you
health, exercise, and a most destructive set of grinders? and, indeed,
the wonder would be if you didn't make the sorrow's havoc at a square of
bacon; so for heaping the creel I forgive you the digestion and the pigs
both."

"Will you permit me." interposed the stranger, a third time.

"But listen again," proceeded his reverence, "did you bring the bread
and broth to the poor Caseys, the creatures?"

"No, sir," replied Mat, licking his lips, as the stranger thought, "it
was Kitty Kavanagh brought that; you know you never trust me wid the
vittles--ever since--"

"Yes, I ought to have remembered that notorious fact. There's where your
weakness is strongest, but, indeed, it is only one of them; for he