o you stare and gape for? shut
that fathomless cleft in your face, and be off. Now, Nogher," he said,
once more addressing the man, "slip down to-morrow with the stamp; or,
stay, why should these fellows be there two hours, and the house and the
family as they are? Sit down here for a few minutes, I'll go home with
you; we can get the stamp in Ballytrain, on our way,--ay, and draw up
the bill there too;--indeed we can and we will too; so not a syllable
against it. You know I must have my will, and that I'm a raging lion
when opposed."

"God bless your reverence," replied the man, moved almost to tears
by his goodness; "many an act of the kind your poor and struggling
parishioners has to thank you for."

On looking into the kitchen, for the parlor door was open, he espied
the stranger, whom he approached with every mark of the most profound
respect, but still with perfect ease and independence.

After the first salutations were over--

"Well, sir," said the priest, "do you hold to your purpose of going to
Dublin?"

"I go this night," replied the other; "and, except through the old man
to whom you are so kind as to give me the letter, I must confess I have
but slight expectations of success. Unless we secure this unfortunate
young man, that is, always supposing that he is alive, and are able
clearly and without question to identify his person, all we may do must
be in vain, and the baronet is firm in both title and estates."

"That is evident," replied the priest. "Could you find the heir alive,
and identify his person, of course your battle is won. Well; if there
be anything like a thread to guide you through the difficulties of this
labyrinth, I have placed it in your hands."

"I am sensible of your good wishes, sir, and I thank you very much
for the interest you have so kindly taken in the matter. By the way, I
engaged a servant to accompany me--one Dulcimer, Dandy Dulcimer; pray,
what kind of moral character does he bear?"

"Dandy Dulcimer!" exclaimed the priest; "why, the thief of the world! is
it possible you have engaged him?"

"Why? is he not honest?" asked the other, with surprise.

"Honest!" replied the priest; "the vagabond's as honest a vagabond as
ever lived. You may trust him in anything and everything. When I call
him a vagabond, I only mean it in a kind and familiar sense; and, by
the way, I must give you an explanation upon the subject of my pony. You
must have heard me call him 'Freney the Ro