"Matthew," answered he quickly.
"Matthew!—why, don't you know me?"
"No, sir," replied he, staring vacantly at me.
"Indeed!—Have I so outgrown all knowledge? Don't you recollect Andrew Mullins?"
"Good heavins!" exclaimed he, with his well-remembered nasal twang; "are you—"
"Yes."
"Well, I declare now you've growed into a gentleman. I should'nt—I really should'nt—" He did not say what he really "should not"—but extended his hand.—"Hope you ain't too proud to shake hands with an old friend?"
I shook him heartily by the hand, and made some enquiries touching his history.
Poor Matthew seated himself with all the ease imaginable, and laid his knot beside him, and began, after the manner of his favourite heroes, to "unbosom himself."
"You've a father," said he; "but I'm a horphan, without father nor mother—a houtcast!"—and he sunk his head upon his bosom; and I observed that his scrubby crop was already becoming thin and bald.