"The poor fellow, sir," said he, addressing the other with singular
benignity, "is an orphan; his mother is dead more than twelve years,
and his father, the idle and unfortunate man, never has been of the
slightest use to him, poor creature."

"What," exclaimed the stranger, with animation, "you, then, know his
father!"

"Know him! to be sure I do. He is, or rather he was, a horse-jockey,
and I took the poor neglected young lad in because he had no one to look
after him. But wasn't it kind-hearted of the creature to heap the creel
of turf though, and shed tears for poor Widow Magowran? In truth, I
won't forget either of these two acts to him."

"You speak, sir, of your servant, I believe." observed the other, with
something like chagrin.

"In truth, there's not a kind-hearted young giant alive this day. Many
a little bounty that I, through the piety and liberality of the
charitable, am enabled to distribute among my poor, and often send to
them with Mat; and I believe there's scarcely an instance of the kind in
which he is the bearer of it, that he doesn't shed tears just as he did
with Widow Magowran. Sure I have it from his own lips."

"I have little doubt of it," replied the stranger.

"And one day," proceeded the credulous, easy man, "that I was going
along the Race-road, I overtook him with a creel of turf, the same way,
on his back, and when I looked down from my horse into the creel, I saw
with astonishment that it wasn't more than half full. 'Mat,' said I,
'what's the raison of this? Didn't I desire you to fill the creel to the
top, and above it?'

"'Troth,' said poor Mat, 'I never carried such a creelful in my life as
it was when I left home.'

"'But what has become of the turf, then?' I asked.

"He gave me a look and almost began to cry--'Arra now, your reverence,'
he replied, 'how could you expict me to have the heart to refuse a few
sods to the great number of poor creatures that axed me for them, to
boil their pratees, as I came along? I hope, your reverence, I am not so
hard-hearted as all that comes to.'"

"I know," proceeded the priest, "that it was wrong not to bring the
turf to its destination; but, you see, sir, it was only an error of
judgment--although the head was wrong, the heart was right--and that's a
great point."

It was not in human nature, however, to feel annoyed at this
characteristic ebullition. The stranger's chagrin at once disappeared,
and as he was in no particular hurr