(blessed be His Name!) come fur till clane the wurrld o' the furst Adam's sin, He hed till be born where the furst Adam was created; an' He hed till die where the furbidden fruit was ait. An' A've gethered up proofs, an' proofs, an' proofs—How far is it fram Jerusalem till Bethlehem, Tammas?"
"Nearly six miles."
"A knowed the places must be convanient. Now ye mind where the Saviour (blessed be His Name!) says, 'all the blood shed on earth, fram the blood iv righteous Abel'—and so on? Well, 'earth' manes 'land'; an' it's all as wan as if He said, 'shed on the land.' An' what land? Why, the Holy Land. An' the praphets lived there when the Fall was quite racent; an' hear what they say:—"
(Here he gave me some texts of Scripture, which I afterward verified—and I would certainly advise you to do the same, if you can find a Bible. They are, Isaiah li, 3; Ezekiel xxviii, 13—xxxi, 9-18-xxxvi, 35; Joel ii, 3.)
"Rory, you're a marvel," I remarked with sincerity. "And, by the way, if there's anything in the inspiration of Art—if the Artist soars to truth by the path which no fowl knoweth—your theory may find some support in the fact that it was a usage of the Renaissance to represent the skull of Adam at the foot of the cross."
"Ay—that!" And Rory's note-book was out again. "Which artists, Tammas?"
"Martin Schoen—end of 15th century, for one. Jean Limousin—17th century—for another. Albert Dürer—beginning of 16th century—in more than one of his engravings. However, you can just hold this species of proof in reserve till I look up the subject. I won't forget."
"God bless ye, Tammas! Would it be faysible at all at all fur ye till stap to the morrow mornin', an' ride out wi' me the day?"
"Well—yes."
"Blessin's on ye, Tammas! Becos A've got four more idays that ye could help me with. Wan iday is about divils. A take this fur a foundation: There's sins fur till be done in the wurrld that men 'on't do; an' divils is marcifully put in the flesh an' blood fur till do them sins. 'Wan iv you is a divil,' says the Saviour (blessed be His Name!). 'He went to his own place,' says Acts—both manin' Judas. An' there's a wheen o' places where Iago spakes iv himself as a divil. An' A've got other proofs furbye, that we'll go over wan be wan. It's a mysthery, Tammas."
"It is indeed." Whilst replying, I was constrained to glance round at the weather; and my eye happened to fall on the creeper-laden pine, a quarter of a mile away. Suddenly a strange misgiving seized me, and I asked involuntarily, "Do you have many swagmen calling round here?"
"Nat six in the coorse o' the year," replied Rory, too amiable to heed the impolite change of subject. "Las' time A seen Ward," he continued, after a moment's pause, "he toul' me there was a man come to the station wan mornin' airly, near blin' wi' sandy blight; an' he stapped all day in a dark skillion, an' started again at night. He was makin' fur Ivanhoe, fur till ketch the coach; but it's a sore ondhertakin' fur a blin' man till thravel
