it you saw?"

"I didn't see no priest. Old Mum Sullivan, she saw him, and sent and
told mother to tell widder Toner, 'cos she's a Roman, too. She said it
was a new priest, not Father McNaughton, the old one, and she guessed he
was all right, but she didn't like his looks as well as t'other's."

"Then you are not a Roman."

"Naw, what are you givin' us? I play a fife on the Twelfth."

"Oh, you are an Orangeman?"

"Yum, Young Briton, same thing."

"So, you Orangemen run to help the Roman Catholics when they are sick or
want to know if the priest is coming, and then, on the Twelfth, you feel
like cutting each other's throats."

"I don't want to cut nobody's throat, but we've got to sass 'em on the
Twelfth to keep up the glorious, pious and immortal memory, and to
whistle 'em down 'The Protestant Boys.' We've got three fifes and three
drums in our lodge."

After more of this edifying conversation, the pair arrived at a clearing
on the river, containing a house and some out buildings, not far from
its bank. These communicated by a private road with the public one,
which crossed the stream about an eighth of a mile farther on. Turning
the corner of the barn, Coristine saw a gray-haired woman, and a clean
shaven man in clerical garb, leaning over the prostrate figure of Ben.

"Are you a doctor, sir?" asked the tearful woman, rising and coming
towards him.

"Not exactly, Ma'am," replied the lawyer; "but perhaps I may be of use."

He then leaned over the sick man, and saw that he not only breathed, but
had his eyes open upon the world in quite a sensible way. "What is the
matter?" he asked the reverend gentleman, who was also contemplating the
recumbent Toner.

"He says his back is sore, paralyzed, and that he can't move a limb,"
replied the priest in an unprofessional tone.

"How did it happen, Mr. Toner?" enquired the lawyer; and Ben, in a
feebly and husky voice, replied:--

"I was rollin' quite a loaud on the slaant, when I got ketched with a
back sprain, and the loaud slipped and knocked me down, and rolled over
my stummick. That's all."

"Quite enough for one time," said Coristine; "is there such a thing as a
loose door, or some boards we can make into a stretcher, anywhere
about?" Ben called to his mother to show the doctor where the door was
that he was going to put on the hen-yard. This was soon found, and, a
blanket or two being laid upon it, the clergyman and the improvised
doctor transferred the gro