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?"