Then turning to the grinning landlord, and with accent intensified by excitement, he shouted, ‘What’s yon thing? Whaur’s my ram? D’ye think I ped my money for sic a brute as that? What ha’ ye done wi’ the “Duke”? If this is a wee bit joke o’ yer ain, Mister Edwards, time’s up, I do assure ye, sir.’ And he advanced threateningly towards the publican, who nimbly retreated into the crowd, whilst protesting,— ‘I can swear to you, sir, that’s the very same sheep Jack Burns brought in the coach this mornin’. I helped to take him out, an’ I sez to Jack, “Well, he ain’t much to look at, Jack;” and Jack, he sez, “No, that he ain’t. I think the trip must have haffected him; he seems to have felled away sence we put him in at the railway.”’ ‘Tak’ me to the villain,’ groaned M‘Pherson, ‘till I get to the bottom of this de’il’s cantrip!’ Followed by quite a procession, they passed to a little room, where the driver lay sleeping off the fatigues of the previous night. ‘Hi!’ yelled the squatter, shaking him. ‘What ha’ ye done wi’ my ram, ye rascal?’ Jack, sitting up, half awake, replied sulkily,— ‘Damn your ram! He’s in the stable. What d’ye want, rousin’ people like this for?’ ‘I’ll rouse ye, ye scamp!’ roared the other. ‘Whaur’s my ram—my “Duke,” I say? D’ye think that I dinna ken a coo frae a cuddy; an’ that I’m to be imposed on wi’ a blasted auld cull in place o’ the “Duke o’ Silversheen” that I ped 700 guineas guid cash for? D’ye imagine I’m daft, ye coach-drivin’ fule, ye? If ye dinna confess wha’s led ye astray, I’ll give ye in chairge this vera meenit. I’ll let ye ken that I’m Jock M‘Pherson o’ Palkara; an’ I’m goin’ to mak’ it het for ye for this wee jobbie!’ This tirade effectually awakened the driver, and said he, with an earnestness there was no mistaking,— ‘By G—d, Mr M‘Pherson, I’m on the square. I never took much notice o’ the ram at the railway. It was dusk, too, when the agent put him in. I seen him two or three times along the road, an’ thought he looked fust class. Nobody could ha’ touched him without me knowin’ of it. But, at the best o’ times, I can’t tell one sheep from t’other, never havin’ had any truck with ’em. Anyhow, if there’s cross work ’bout this un, all I can say is, as I ain’t in it: An’ now you can send for the traps if you likes.’ The man’s manner carried conviction with it, and for a few minutes M‘Pherson was silent. At last he said,— ‘Come awa’, some o’ ye, an’ catch the creature till I have a look at him.’ But when caught, nothing was ascertainable beyond the one patent fact that he was a broken-mouthed, miserable old cull, who ought to have gone to market as a wether years ago. Earmarks, out of their own district, are of precious little use as a means of identification now-a-days. It will be noticed that Jack forgot all about his twenty minutes’ stay and chat with the cook in Tara kitchen. The coach had been very much overdue.