“We do, your Reverence, we do.  A mild, gentle crathur he was, poor boy.  I hope God prospered him.”

“You see him now before you,” said the priest.  “I am that boy, and I thank God that I can testify, however slightly, my deep sense of the virtues which you exercised towards me; although I regret that the occasion is one of such affliction.”

The farmer raised his eyes and feeble hands towards heaven.  “Praise an’ glory to your name, good God!” he exclaimed.  “Praise an’ glory to your holy name!  Now I know that I’m not forgotten, when you brought back the little kindness I did that boy for your sake, wid so many blessins to me in the hour of my affliction an’ sufferin’!  Childher remimber this, now that I’m goin’ to lave yez for ever!  Remimber always to help the stranger, an’ thim that’s poor an’ in sorrow.  If you do, God won’t forget it to you; but will bring it back to yez when you stand in need of it, as he done to me this day.  You see, childhre dear, how small thrifles o’ that kind depend on one another.  If I hadn’t thought of helpin’ his Reverence here when he was young and away from his own, he wouldn’t think of callin’ upon us this day as he was passin’.  You see the hand of God is in it, childhre:  which it is, indeed, in every thing that passes about us, if we could only see it as we ought to do.  Thin, but I’d like to look upon your face, sir, if it’s plasin’ to you?  A little more to the light, sir.  There, I now see you.  Ay, indeed, it’s changed for the betther it is—­:  the same mild, clear countenance, but not sorrowful, as when I seen it last.  Suffer me to put my hand on your head, sir; I’d like to bless you before I die, for I can’t forget what you undertook to do for your parents.”

The priest sat near him; but finding he was scarcely able to raise his hand to his head, he knelt down, and the farmer, before he communicated the blessing inquired—­

“Musha, sir, may I ax, wor you able to do anything to help your family as you expected?”

“God,” said the priest, “made me the instrument of raising them from their poverty; they are now comfortable and happy.”

“Ay!  Well I knew at the time, an’ I said it, that a blessin’ would attind your endayvors.  An’ now resave my blessin’.  May you never depart from the right way!  May the blessin’ of God rest upon you for ever—­Amin!  Childhre, I’m gettin’ wake; come near me, till, till I bless you, too, for the last time!  They were good childhre, sir—­they were ever an’ always good to me, an’ to their poor mother, your Reverence; an’—­God forgive me if it’s a sin!—­but I feel a great dale o’ my heart an’ my love fixed upon them.  But sure I’m their father, an’ God, I hope, will look over it!  Now, darlins, afore I bless yez, I ax your forgiveness if ever I was harsher to yez than I ought!”

The children with a simultaneous movement encircled his bed, and could not reply for some minutes.

“Never, father darlin’!  Oh, never did you offind us!  Don’t speak in that way, or you’ll break our hearts; but forgive us, father asthore!  Oh, forgive an’ bless us, an’ don’t remimber against us, our folly an’ disobedience, for it’s only now that we see we warn’t towards you as we ought to be.  Forgive us an’ pardon us!”