will, in spite
of us. But what 's that?" said the attorney.

"I 'll take him as an apprentice for it, I know," said the doctor, with
a grin that made me shudder.

"That's settled already," replied Mr. Basset. "He's to be articled to
me for five years; but I think it 's likely he 'll go to sea before the
time expires. How heavily the old man is sleeping! Now, is that natural
sleep?"

"No, that's always a bad sign; that puffing with the lips is generally
among the last symptoms. Well, he'll be a loss anyhow, when he's gone.
There's an eight-ounce mixture he never tasted yet,--infusion of gentian
with soda. Put your lips to that."

"Devil a one o' me will ever sup the like!" said the attorney,
finishing his tumbler of punch as he spoke. "Faugh! how can you drink
them things that way?"

"Sure it's the compound infusion, made with orangepeel and cardamom
seeds. There is n't one of them did n't cost two and ninepence. He 'll
be eight weeks in bed come Tuesday next."

"Well, well! If he lived till the next assizes, it would be telling me
four hundred pounds; not to speak of the costs of two ejectments I have
in hand against Mullins and his father-in-law."

"It's a wonder," said the doctor, after a pause, "that Tom didn't come
by the coach. It's no matter now, at any rate; for since the eldest
son's away, there's no one here to interfere with us."

"It was a masterly stroke of yours, doctor, to tell the old man the
weather was too severe to bring George over from Eton. As sure as he
came he'd make up matters with Tom; and the end of it would be, I 'd
lose the agency, and you would n't have those pleasant little bills for
the tenantry,--eh. Fin?"

"Whisht! he's waking now. Well, sir; well, Mr. Burke, how do you feel
now? He 's off again!"

"The funeral ought to be on a Sunday," said Basset, in a whisper;
"there 'll be no getting the people to come any other day. He 's saying
something, I think."

"Fin," said my father, in a faint, hoarse voice,--"Fin, give me a drink.
It 's not warm!"

"Yes, sir; I had it on the fire."

"Well, then, it 's myself that 's growing cold. How 's the pulse now.
Fin? Is the Dublin doctor come yet?"

"No, sir; we 're expecting him every minute. But sure, you know, we 're
doing everything."

"Oh! I know it. Yes, to be sure, Fin; but they 've many a new thing up
in Dublin there, we don't hear of. Whisht! what's that?"

"It 's Tony, sir,--Tony Basset; he 's sitting up with me."

"C