hly--"nothing but
anger him?"

"To be sure I can if you let me," said Billy, producing a very ancient
lancet-case of boxwood tipped with ivory. "I'll just take a dash of
blood from the temporal artery, to relieve the cerebrum, and then we'll
put cowld on his head, and keep him quiet."

And with a promptitude that showed at least self-confidence, he
proceeded to accomplish the operation, every step of which he effected
skilfully and well.

"There, now," said he, feeling the pulse, as the blood continued to flow
freely, "the circulation is relieved at once; it's the same as opening a
sluice in a mill-dam. He 's better already."

"He looks easier," said Craggs.

"Ay, and he feels it," continued Billy. "Just notice the respiratory
organs, and see how easy the intercostials is doing their work now.
Bring me a bowl of clean water, some vinegar, and any ould rags you
have."

Craggs obeyed, but not without a sneer at the direction.

"All over the head," said Billy; "all over it,--back and front,--and
with the blessing of the Virgin, I'll have that hair off of him if he is
n't cooler towards evening."

So saying, he covered the sick man with the wetted cloths, and bathed
his hands in the cooling fluid.

"Now to exclude the light and save the brain from stimulation and
excitation," said Billy, with a pompous enunciation of the last
syllables; "and then _quies_--rest--peace!"

And with this direction, imparted with a caution to enforce its
benefits, he moved stealthily towards the door and passed out.

"What do you think of him?" asked the Corporal, eagerly.

"He 'll do--he 'll do," said Billy. "He's a sanguineous temperament, and
he'll bear the lancet. It's just like weatherin' a point at say. If you
have a craft that will carry canvas, there's always a chance for you."

"He perceived that you were not a doctor," said Craggs, when they
reached the corridor.

"Did he, faix?" cried Billy, half indignantly. "He might have perceived
that I did n't come in a coach; that I had n't my hair powdered, nor
gold knee-buckles in my smallcloths; but, for all that, it would be
going too far to say that I was n't a doctor! 'T is the same with physic
and poetry--you take to it, or you don't take to it! There's chaps,
ay, and far from stupid ones either, that could n't compose you ten
hexameters if ye'd put them on a hot griddle for it; and there's
others that would talk rhyme rather than rayson! And so with the _ars
medicatrix