One good result at least followed the anecdote--the good-humour of the company was restored at once--the bargain was finally concluded; and Lanty succeeded by some adroit flattery in recovering five pounds of the price, under the title of luck-penny--a portion of the contract M'Nab would have interfered against at once, but that, for his own especial reasons, he preferred remaining silent. The party soon after separated for the night, and as Lanty sought the room usually destined for his accommodation, he muttered, as he went, his self-gratulations on his bargain. Already he had nearly reached the end of the long corridor, where his chamber lay, when a door was cautiously opened, and Sir Archy, attired in a dressing-gown, and with a candle in his hand, stood before him.. “A word wi' ye, Master Lawler,” said he, in a low dry tone, the horse-dealer but half liked. “A word wi' ye, before ye retire to rest.” Lanty followed the old man into the apartment with an air of affected carelessness, which soon, however, gave way to surprise, as he surveyed the chamber, so little like any other in that dreary mansion. The walls were covered with shelves, loaded with books; maps and prints lay scattered about on tables; an oak cabinet of great beauty in form and carving, occupied a deep recess beside the chimney; and over the fireplace a claymore of true Highland origin, and a pair of silver-mounted pistols, were arranged like a trophy, surmounted by a flat Highland cap, with a thin black eagle's feather. Sir Archy seemed to enjoy the astonishment of his guest, and for some minutes made no effort to break silence. At length he said-- “We war speaking about a sma' pony for the laird's son, Mister Lawler--may I ask ye the price?” The words acted like a talisman--Lanty was himself in a moment. The mere mention of horse flesh brought back the whole crowd of his daily associations, and with his native volubility he proceeded, not to reply to the question, but to enumerate the many virtues and perfections of the “sweetest tool that ever travelled on four legs.” Sir Archy waited patiently till the eloquent eulogy was over, and then, drily repeated his first demand. “Is it her price!” said Lanty, repeating the question to gain time to consider how far circumstances might warrant him in pushing a market. “It's her price ye're asking me, Sir Archibald? Troth, and I'll tell you: there's not a man in Kerry could say what's her price. Goold wouldn't pay for her, av it was value was wanted. See now, she's not fourteen hands high, but may I never leave this room if she wouldn't carry me--ay, myself here, twelve stone six in the scales--over e'er a fence between this and Inchigeela.” “It's no exactly to carry you that I was making my inquiry,” said the old man, with an accent of more asperity than he had used before. “Well then, for Master Herbert--sure she is the very beast--”