After having examined and dressed the wounded temple, which he declared to be a mere scratch, and congratulated me on the apparent convalescence of my looks, he withdrew, politely excusing the length of his visit by pleading the charms of my conversation as the cause of his detention. There is, indeed, an evident vein of French suavity flowing through his manners, that convinced me he had spent some years of his life in that region of the graces. I have since learned that he was partly educated in France; so that, to my astonishment, I have discovered the manners of a gentleman, the conversation of a scholar, and the sentiment of a philanthropist, united in the character of an Irish priest. While my heart throbbed with the natural satisfaction arising from the consciousness of having awakened an interest in those whom it was my ambition to interest, my female Esculapius came and seated herself by me; and while she talked of fevers, inflammations, and the Lord knows what, insisted on my not speaking another word for the rest of the day. Though by no means appearing to labour under the same Pythagorean restraint she had imposed on me; and after having extolled her own surgical powers, her celebrity as the best bone-setter in the barony, and communicated the long list of patients her skill had saved, her tongue at last rested on the only theme I was inclined to hear. “Arrah! now, jewel,” she continued, “there is our Lady Glorvina now, who with all her skill, and knowing every leaf that grows, why she could no more set your arm than she could break it. Och! it was herself that turned white when she saw the blood upon your face, for she was the first to hear you fall, and hasten down to have you picked up; at first, faith, we thought you were a robber; but it was all one to her, into the castle you must be brought, and when she saw the blood spout from your temple, Holy Virgin! she looked for all the world as if she was kilt dead herself.” “And is she,” said I, in the selfishness of my heart, “is she always thus humanely interested for the unfortunate?” “Och! it is she that is tender hearted for man or beast,” replied my companion. “I shall never forget till the day of my death, _nor then_ either, faith, the day that Kitty Mulrooney’s cow was bogged: you must know, honey, that a bogged cow--” Unfortunately, however, the episode of Kitty Mulrooney’s cow was cut short, for the Prince now entered, leaning on the arm of the priest. Dull indeed must be every feeling, and blunted every recollective faculty, when the look, the air, the smile with which this venerable and benevolent chieftain, approaching my bed, and kindly taking me by the hand, addressed me in the singular idiom of his expressive language.