The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain: The Works of William Carleton, Volume OneCarleton, William
General
The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain: The Works of William Carleton, Volume One
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
He then turned to the stranger, whom he scanned closely; and we need
hardly assure our reader that the other, in his turn, marked the
worthy priest's bearing, manner, and conversation with more than usual
curiosity. The harmless passion in which he found him--his simple but
touching benevolence, added to the genuine benignity with which he
relaxed his anger against Mat Euly, the gigantic servant, because he
told him that he had put a heap upon the creel of turf which he brought
to poor Barney Farrell and his family, not omitting the tears he
represented himself to have shed from Christian sympathy with Widow
Magowran, both of which acts were inventions of the purest water,
resorted to in order to soften the kind-hearted priest; all this, we
say, added to what he had heard from Birney, deeply interested the
stranger in the character of Father Peter. Nor was he less struck by his
appearance. Father MacMahon was a round, tight, rosy-faced little
man, with laughing eyes, full of good nature, and a countenance which
altogether might be termed a title-page to benevolence. His lips were
finely cut, and his well-formed mouth, though full of sweetness, was
utterly free from every indication of sensuality or passion. Indeed, it
was at all times highly expressive of a disposition the most kind and
placable, and not unfrequently of a comical spirit, that blended
with his benevolence to a degree that rendered the whole cast of his
features, as they varied with and responded to the kindly and natural
impulses of his heart, a perfect treat to look upon. That his heart and
soul were genuinely Irish, might easily be perceived by the light of
humor which beamed with such significant contagion from every feature of
his face, as well as by the tear which misery and destitution and sorrow
never failed to bring to his cheek, thus overshadowing for a time, if we
may say so, the whole sunny horizon of his countenance. But this was
not all; you might read there a spirit of kindly sarcasm that was in
complete keeping with a disposition always generous and affectionate,
mostly blunt and occasionally caustic. Nothing could exceed the extreme
neatness with which he attended to his dress and person. In this point
he was scrupulously exact and careful; but this attention to the minor
morals was the result of anything but personal pride, for we are bound
to say, that, with all his amiable eccentricities, more unaffected
humility never dwelt in the heart of a Christian minister.
He had, in fact, paid little or no attention to the stranger until
Mat Ruly went out; when, on glancing at him with more attention,
he perceived at once that he was evidently a person of no ordinary
condition in life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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