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"
"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.


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