beside him. Flaggan's attendant looked at him with a smile, and pointed to the ottoman.
"Och, surely," said Ted again, as he sat down.
Instantly he leaped up with a subdued howl.
"W'y, what wrong?" asked Rais, looking up.
"It's red-hot," replied Flaggan, rubbing himself.
"Nonsense!" returned Rais; "you lie down queek. Soon git use to him. Always feel hottish at fust."
Resolved not to be beaten, the unfortunate Irishman sat down again, and again started up, but, feeling ashamed, suddenly flung himself flat on his back, held his breath, and ground his teeth together. He thought of gridirons; he thought of the rack; he thought of purgatory; he thought of the propriety of starting up and of tearing limb from limb the attendant, who, with a quiet smile, lay down beside him and shut his eyes; he thought of the impossibility of bearing it an instant longer; and then he suddenly thought that it felt a little easier. From this point he began to experience sensations that were slightly pleasurable, and a profuse perspiration broke out over his whole body.
Evidently his attendant was accustomed to deal occasionally with white men, for he watched his huge charge out of the corner of a wicked eye for some time. Seeing, however, that he lay still, the fellow went off into a peaceful slumber.
"'Tis an amazin' place intirely," observed Ted,
