We hope the reader will recollect the poor Irishman, whose leg the surgeon had condemned to be cut off, but which was saved by Erasmus. A considerable time afterwards, one morning, when Erasmus was just getting up, he heard a loud knock at his door, and in one and the same instant pushing past his servant into his bedchamber, and to the foot of his bed, rushed this Irishman O’Brien, breathless, and with a face perspiring joy. “I axe your honour’s pardon, master, but it’s what you’re wanting down street in all haste--here’s an elegant case for ye, doctor dear!--That painter-jantleman down in the square there beyond that is not _expicted_.” “Not expected!” said Erasmus. “Ay, not expected: so put on ye with the speed of light--Where’s his waistcoat,” continued he, turning to Dr. Percy’s astonished servant, “and coat?--the top coat, and the wig--has he one?--Well! boots or shoes give him any way.” “But I don’t clearly understand--Pray did this gentleman send for me?” said Dr. Percy. “Send for your honour! Troth he never thought of it--no, nor couldn’t--how could he? and he in the way he was and is. But God bless ye! and never mind shaving, or another might get it afore we’d be back. Though there was none _in it_ but myself when I left it--but still keep on buttoning for the life.” Erasmus dressed as quickly as he could, not understanding, however, above one word in ten that had been said to him. His servant, who did not comprehend even one word, endeavoured in vain to obtain an explanation; but O’Brien, paying no regard to his solemn face of curiosity, put him aside with his hand, and continuing to address Dr. Percy, followed him about the room. “Master! you mind my _mintioning_ to you last time I _seen_ your honour, that my leg was weak _by times_, no fault though to the doctor that cured it--so I could not be _after carrying_ the weighty loads I used up and down the ladders at every call, so I quit _sarving_ the masons, and sought for lighter work, and found an employ that _shuted_ me with a ‘jantleman painter’, grinding of his colours, and that was what I was at this morning, so I was, and standing as close to him as I am this minute to your honour, thinking of nothing at all just now, please your honour, _forenent_ him--_asy_ grinding, _whin_ he took some sort or kind of a fit.” “A fit! Why did you not tell me that sooner?”