“There it is now! Oh, blessed father! hear what he says! Oh, holy mother! isn't he a terrible man?”--comments by no means judiciously adapted to calm his irritation. Meanwhile symptoms of evacuating the territory were sufficiently evident. Cripples were taken on the backs and shoulders of their respective friends; sacks and pouches were slung over the necks. Many a preparatory shake of the rags showed that the wearer was getting ready for the road, when Sir Archy, suddenly checking himself in the full torrent of his wrath, cried out-- “Bide a wee--stay a minit, ye auld beasties--I hae a word to say to some amang ye.” The altered tone of voice in which he spoke seemed at once to have changed the whole current of popular feeling; for now they all chimed in with-- “Arrah, he's a good man after all; sure 'tis only a way he has”--sentiments which increased in fervency as Sir Archibald took a tolerably well-filled purse from his pocket, and drew out some silver into his hand, many exclaiming-- “'Tis the kind heart often has the hard word; and sure ye can see in his face he isn't cruel.' “Hear till me,” cried Sir Archy aloud, as he held up a shilling before their wistful eyes, “there's mony a ane among ye, able to earn siller. Which o' ye now will step down to Killarney, and tell the docter he's wanted up here wi a' despatch? Ye maun go fast and bring him, or send him here to-night; and if ye do, I'll gie ye this piece o' siller money when ye come back.” A general groan from that class whose age and infirmities placed them out of the reach of competitorship, met this speech, while from the more able section, a not less unequivocal expression of discontent broke forth. “Down to Killarney,” cried one; “begorra, I wonder ye didn't say Kenmare when ye war about it--the devil a less than ten miles it is.” “Eyah! I'll like to see my own four bones going the same road; sorra a house the whole way where there's a drop of milk or a pratie.” “That's the charity to the poor, I suppose,” said the fat fellow of the night-cap. “'Tis wishing it I am, the same charity.” “We wor to bring the doctor on our back, I hope,” said a cripple in a bowl. “Did ever man hear or see the like o' this?” exclaimed M'Nab, as with uplifted hands he stared in wonderment around him. “One wad na believe it.” “True for you, honey,” joined in one of the group. “I'm fifty-three years on the road, and I never heerd of any one askin' us to do a hand's turn, afore.” “Out of my sight, ye worthless ne'er-do-weels; awa wi ye at once and for ever. I'll send twenty miles round the country, but I'll hae a mastiff here, 'ill worry the first o' ye that dares to come near the house.” “On my conscience, it will push you hard to find a wickeder baste nor yourself.” “Begorra, he won't be uglier any how.”