As he approached the house, he noticed something very dreary and repellent in its appearance. The high fence around the adjacent ground gave it the air of a prison. Several people were in front of it, most of them sitting down. As Pat passed on he noticed that some of these had their heads bound up; others had their arms in slings; others had faces that were pale and emaciated. All of them watched him with wistful, curious eyes; with such looks as prisoners give through their jail windows at the passer-by. This strange look filled Pat with still greater surprise. “It must be a hospital,” he thought; “but what ‘ud they be wan tin of a hospital in a scrap of a place like this?” “Perhaps,” he thought again, “it’s a watherin place, an these are sick people that have come here to be thraited wid the custhomary rimidies.” Passing by this place, he at length reached the beach, and walked along it for some distance before he found a place which appeared altogether suitable for his swim. About a mile away there ran a long spit of land, which seemed to shut out this piece of water from the outer sea, and made it seem like a lake. The water was calm and deliciously warm. Pat sprang in, and dived, and swam, and floundered about for a long time; and when at length he returned to the shore, he felt reinvigorated in every limb. All his fatigue seemed to have departed, and he felt almost fresh enough to begin a new tramp through the woods. The priest returned after a short absence, bringing two men with him. They were both French, and spoke only broken English. They listened to the story of Bart, and asked a number of particular questions about the stream and the rock. They declared that they knew the place perfectly well; that there was only one rock of that description in the country, and that the place was about thirty miles away; by which Bart began to understand more clearly the full magnitude of his tramp. The men expressed a willingness to go whenever they were wanted, and it was finally agreed that they should start at daybreak on the following morning. With this understanding, the men took their departure. It was dusk when Pat returned. He came towards the house whistling as cheerily as a bird, and the moment he entered he began telling what a delicious walk he had had. He then thought of the strange building near the shore, and asked the priest what it was. “That?” said the priest. “O, that’s the Lazaretto.” “The Lazaretto?” repeated Pat, not understanding him. “Yes,” said the priest; “have you not heard of it?” “The Lazaretto--niver a word surely. An what is the Lazaretto, thin?” “O, it’s a place where we keep lepers.” “Lepers!” cried Pat, in a voice of horror; and his ruddy face changed to a sickly pallor. “Lepers?” said Bart. “Lepers? What, lepers here, in this country?”