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I think I have seen a leer in their eyes, or a lurking smile, as they ply the rubber or some round game; while Joe with officious alacrity bustles in and out, replenishing the shining brass kettle on the hob. Indeed, they often call when time or storm stayed, and help themselves in my absence, whereat I am heartily glad. For Joe keeps the keys of my cellar, which he locks with the solemnity of a gaoler; though for the life of me I cannot tell why, seeing that there are but two of us, besides the old woman, who cooks our meals, speaks nothing but Irish, and drinks only water.

Truly my hospitality thrives on itself, for the more the salmon, the mountain mutton, the brandy and wine are consumed, the more vigorously do they return. Why, I could sustain a siege, were it come to that pass; and without the assistance of my friends and certain pensioners, I know not what I should do.

When the rector and curate go their rounds they do me the honour to abide under my roof, and I am favoured with frequent calls from the Presbyterian minister and the priest. The "doctor's," though I say it, is a home house with them all the attachment, in truth, is mutual; for rich and poor, high and low, lean to me alike. And why not? If plenty without profusion, hospitality devoid of ostentation, and moderation in all things, fail to conciliate esteem, I know not what is to do it. Some tinge of melancholy shoots across my old heart when I think of it; but the "doctor" will be missed when he is called away.

I plead the garrulous privilege of my age. I am talking too much, and I know it; but there were matters to relate that needed this little introduction. And anent the priest, every one is aware that the subordinates of the Romish church are moved about at will; so the gentleman speak

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ing of the curate, whom I was accustomed to see, had been replaced by another.

"How happens it, Joe," said I, "that the priest never comes here now? Step over, will you, and give my compliments, the doctor's compliments, and say how happy I should be to see him at dinner." The invitation was courteously declined; but my new friend called soon after, as it might be to thank me himself. Fancy a thin spare man, well past forty, but looking older than he was, haggard and meagre to a degree, and wearing masses of coal-black hair here and there shot with grey. His dark eyes, though piercing and restless, were tempered by an expression of infinite melancholy. They evinced a peculiarity which I had never witnessed before, becoming at intervals suddenly fixed, as if the attention were turned to sights and sounds about to be present, but which, fading away, gave rise to disappointment, if not despair.

He opened the conversation with compliments, I need not repeat, as to my services, which he was pleased to observe were invaluable among the poor. "It would have delighted me," he said, "to avail myself of your kindness; but I am a worn-out recluse, who only leave my cell to perform the needful offices of my cloth. Indeed, doctor," he added, "I am a subject for your skill

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as much as any other one — being, if not much mistaken, far gone in decline, and not expecting to see another spring." In effect, he shortly after took to his bed, and was no longer able to attend to his parishioners.

I often visited him, and ever found him unaffectedly cheerful, though swiftly-striding death was staring him in the face. It was a pleasure to administer to his requirements, in which I was zealously aided by the kind-hearted Joe. "By my faith," he exclaimed "he is more an angel than a man!" And so indeed it seemed.

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He expressed a very superfluous gratitude

my attentions; and I saw, with regret, that my gentle patient should shortly need them no more. I was therefore not surprised, coming late one night from the hills, to find a message awaiting me, to the effect that Father Michael was much indisposed, and would be thankful for an early call.

A smile was on his lips, though the deathstruggle had begun but there was nothing terrible I had almost said sad about it. "You

will perceive," said he, with considerable effort, "my good doctor, that this little business is wellnigh over. After all, what is the life of man? Each one looks at it, and truly, as of infinite moment to himself; yet in the eye of nature, what though lives were to drop like summer rain ! But I must not trespass on your precious time-I I can very well die alone." Then handing me a manuscript from under

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