dy, and asked what most summary measures could be put in practice against him. "Oh! various, various, my dear squire," said Murphy; "but I don't see any great use in doing so yet, he has not openly avowed himself." "But does he not intend to coalesce with the other party?" "I believe so;-that is, if he's to get the pension." "Well, and that's as good as done, you know; for if they want him, the pension is easily managed." "I'm not so sure of that." "Why, they're as plenty as blackberries." "Very true; but, you see, Lord Gobblestown swallows all the pensions for his own family; and there are a great many complaints in the market against him for plucking that blackberry-bush very bare indeed; and unless Sack Scatterbrain has swingeing interest, the pension may not be such an easy thing." "But still O'Grady has shown himself not my friend." 66 My dear squire, you oughtn't to jump a conclusion like a twelve-foot drain or five-bar gate." "Well, he's a blackguard." "No denying it; and therefore keep him on your side, if you can, or he'll be a troublesome customer on the other." "I'll keep no terms with him;-I'll slap at him directly. What can you do that's wickedest?latitat, capias-fee-faw-fum, or whatever you call it ?" "Hollo! squire, you're overrunning your game: may be, after all, he won't join the Scatterbrains, and "I tell you it's no matter; he intended doing it, and that's all the same. I'll slap at him,-I'll blister him!" you may send over to me for it, and your messenger shall have it hot and warm for him. Good-b'ye, squire!" "Good-b'ye, Murphy!-lose no time." "In the twinkling of a bed-post. Are you going to Tom Durfy's steeple-chase?" "I'm not sure." "I've a bet on it. Did you see the Widow Flanagan lately? You didn't? They say Tom's pushing it strong there. The widow has money, you know, and Tom does it all for the love o' God; for you know, squire, there are two things God hates, -a coward and a poor man. Now, Tom's no coward; and, that he may be sure of the love o' God on the other score, he's making up to the widow; and, as he's a slashing fellow, she's nothing loth, and, for fear of any one cutting him out, Tom keeps as sharp a look-out after her as she does after him. He's fierce on it, and looks pistols at any one that attempts putting his comether on the widow, while she looks "as soon as you plaze," as plain as an optical lecture can enlighten the heart of man: in short, Tom's all ram's horns, and the widow all sheep's eyes. Good-b'ye, squire!" And Murtough put spurs to his horse and cantered down the avenue, whistling the last popular tune. Andy was sent over to Murtough Murphy's for the law process at the appointed time; and, as he had to pass through the village, Mrs. Egan desired him to call at the apothecary's for some medicine that was prescribed for one of the children. "What'll I ax for, ma'am ?" "I'd be sorry to trust to you, Andy, for remembering. Here's the prescription; take great care of it, and Mr. M'Garry will give you something to bring back; and mind, if it's a powder, "Is it gunpowdher, ma'am?" "No-you stupid-will you listen-I say, if it's a powder, don't let it get wet as you did the sugar the other day." "No, ma'am." "And if it's a bottle, don't break it as you did the "No, ma'am." "And make haste." Murtough Murphy wondered at this blind fury of the squire, who, being a good-humoured and good-last." natured fellow in general, puzzled the attorney the more by his present manifest malignity against O'Grady. But he had not seen the turn-over of the letter; he had not seen "spoon," the real and secret cause of the "war to the knife" spirit which was kindled in the squire's breast. "Of course you can do what you please; but, if you'd take a friend's advice "I tell you I'll blister him." "He certainly bled you very freely." "I'll blister him, I tell you, and that smart. Lose no time, Murphy, my boy: let loose the dogs of law on him, and harass him till he'd wish the d-1 had him." "Just as you like; but―" "I'll have it my own way, I tell you; so say no more." "I'll commence against him at once, then, as you wish it; but it's no use, for you know very well that it will be impossible to serve him." "Yis, ma'am :" and off went Andy. In going through the village he forgot to leave the prescription at the apothecary's, and pushed on for the attorney's: there he saw Murtough Murphy, who handed him the law process, enclosed in a cover, with a note to the squire. "Have you been doing any thing very clever lately, Andy?" said Murtough. "I don't know sir," said Andy. "Did you shoot any one with soda-water since I saw you last?" Andy grinned. "Did you kill any more dogs lately, Andy?" "Faix, you're too hard on me, sir: sure I never killed but one dog, and that was an accident-____" "An accident!-Curse your impudence, you thief! Do you think, if you killed one of the pack on purpose, we wouldn't cut the very heart out o' "Let me alone for that! I'll be bound I'll find fel-you with our hunting-whips ?" lows to get the inside of him." Why, his house is barricaded like a jail, and he has dogs enough to bait all the bulls in the country." "No matter; just send me the blister for him, and I'll engage I'll stick it on him." 66 Very well, squire; you shall have the blister as soon as it can be got ready. I'll tell you whenever .. Faith, I wouldn't doubt you, sir: but, sure, how could I help that divil of a mare runnin' away wid me, and thramplin' the dogs?" "Why didn't you hold her, you thief?" "Hould her, indeed!" you just might as well expect to stop fire among flax as that one." "Well, be off with you now, Andy, and take care of what I gave you for the squire." "Oh, never fear, sir," said Andy, as he turned his horse's head homeward. He stopped at the apothecary's in the village, to execute his commission for the "misthis." On telling the son of Galen that he wanted some physic "for one o' the childre up at the big house," the dispenser of the healing art asked what physic he wanted. "Faith, I dunna what physic." "I suppose so, indeed, or you wouldn't be sent for medicine. You're always making some blunder. You come here, and don't know what description of medicine is wanted." “Don't I?” said Andy with a great air. "No, you don't, you omadhaun!" said the apothecary. Andy fumbled in his pockets, and could not lay hold of the paper his mistress entrusted him with until he had emptied them thoroughly of their contents upon the counter of the shop; and then taking the prescription from the collection, he said, "So you tell me I don't know the description of the physic I'm to get. Now, you see you're out; for that's the description." And he slapped the counter impressively with his hand as he threw down the recipe before the apothecary. Whenever O'Grady was in a bad humour, he had a strange fashion of catching at some word that either he himself, or those with whom he spoke, had uttered, and after often repeating it, or rather mumbling it over in his mouth as if he were chewing it, off he started into a canter of ridiculous rhymes to the aforesaid word, and sometimes one of these rhymes would suggest a new idea, or some strange association, which had the oddest effect possible; and to increase the absurdity, the jingle was gone through with as much solemnity as if he were indulging in a deep and interesting reverie, so that it was difficult to listen without laughing, which might prove a serious matter, when O'Grady was in one of his tantarums, as his wife used to call them. Mrs. O'Grady was near the bed of the sick man as the nurse-tender entered. "Here's the things for your honour now," said she in her most soothing tone. "I wish the d-1 had you and them!" said O'Grady. "Gusty, dear!" said his wife. (She might have said stormy instead of gusty.) "Oh! they'll do you good, your honour," said the nurse-tender, curtsying, and uncorking bottles, and opening a pill-box. O'Grady made a face at the pill-box, and repeated the word "pills," several times, with an expression of extreme disgust-" Pills-pills-kills-wills— aye-make your wills-make them-take themshake them. When taken-to be well shakenshow me that bottle." The nurse-tender handed a phial, which O'Grady shook violently. While the medicine was in the course of preparation for Andy, he commenced restoring to his pockets the various parcels he had taken from them in hunting for the recipe. Now, it happened that he had laid them down close beside some articles that were compounded, and sealed up for going out, on the apothecary's counter; and as the law process which Andy had received from Murtough Murphy "Curse them all," said the squire. "A pretty chanced to resemble in form another enclosure that thing to have a gentleman's body made a perfect lay beside it, containing a blister, Andy, under the sink, for these blackguard doctors and apothecaries to influence of his peculiar genius, popped the blister pour their dirty drugs into-faugh!-drugs-mugs into his pocket instead of the packet which had-jugs;" he shook the phial again and looked been confided to him by the attorney, and having obtained the necessary medicine from M'Garry, rode home with great self-complacency that he had not forgot to do a single thing that had been entrusted to "Pink!" said O'Grady, eyeing her askance, as him. I'm all right this time," said Andy to himself. if he could have eaten her. "Pink-you old besom Scarcely had he left the apothecary's shop when-pink-" he uncorked the phial and put it to his another messenger alighted at its door, and asked nose. "Pink-phew!" and he repeated a rhyme to "If Squire O'Grady's things was ready?" pink which would not look well in print. "There they are," said the innocent M'Garry, pointing to the bottles, boxes, and blister, he had made up and set aside, little dreaming that the blister had been exchanged for a law process: and Squire O'Grady's own messenger popped into his pocket the legal instrument, that it was as much as any seven men's lives were worth to bring within gun-shot of Neck-or-nothing Hall. Home he went, and the sound of the old gate creaking on its hinges at the entrance to the avenue awoke the deeped-mouthed dogs around the house, who rushed infuriate to the spot to devour the unholy intruder on the peace and privacy of the patrician O'Grady; but they recognized the old grey hack and his rider, and quietly wagged their tails and trotted back, and licked their lips at the thoughts of the bailiff they had hoped to eat. The door of Neck-or-nothing Hall was carefully unbarred and unchained, and the nurse-tender was handed the parcel from the apothecary's, and re-ascended to the sick-room with slippered foot as quietly as she could; for the renowned O'Grady was, according to her account, "as cross as two sticks;" and she protested, furthermore," that her heart was grey with him." through it. "Isn't it nice and pink, darlin'?" said the nursetender. "Now, sir, dear, there's a litle blisther just to go on your chest-if you plaze—” "A what!" "A warm plasther, dear." "A blister you said, you old divil!" "Well, sure, it's something to relieve you." The squire gave a deep growl, and his wife put in the usual appeal of "Gusty, dear!" 99 "Hold your tongue, will you? how would you like it? I wish you had it on your "Deed-an-deed, dear," said the nurse-tender. "By the 'ternal war! if you say another word, I'll throw the jug at you!" "And there's a nice dhrop o' gruel I have on the fire for you," said the nurse, pretending not to mind the rising anger of the squire, as she stirred the gruel with one hand, while with the other she marked herself with the sign of the cross, and said in a mumbling manner, "God presarve us! he's the most cantankerous Christian I ever kem across!" "Show me that infernal thing!" said the squire. "What thing, dear?" "You know well enough, you old hag!—that blackguard blister!" "Here it is, dear. Now, just open the brust o' your shirt, an let me put it an you.' "Give it into my hand here, and let me see it." "Sartinly, sir;-but I think, if you'd let me just" "Give it to me, I tell you!" said the squire, in a tone so fierce that the nurse paused in her unfolding of the packet, and handed it with fear and trembling to the already indignant O'Grady. But it is only imagination can figure the outrageous fury of the squire, when, on opening the envelope with his own hand, he beheld the law process before him. There, in the heart of his castle, with his bars and bolts, and bull-dogs, and blunderbusses around him, he was served-absolutely served, and he had no doubt the nurse-tender was bribed to betray him. A roar and a jump up in bed, first startled his wife into terror, and put the nurse on the defensive. "You infernal old strap!" shouted he, as he clutched up a handful of bottles on the table near him and flung them at the nurse, who was near the fire at the time; and she whipped the pot of gruel | from the grate, and converted it into a means of defence against the phial-pelting storm. Mrs. O'Grady rolled herself up in the bed-curtains, while the nurse screeched "murther!" and at last, when O'Grady saw that bottles were of no avail, he scrambled out of bed, shouting, "Where's my blunderbuss!" and the nurse-tender, while he endeavoured to get it down from the rack, where it was suspended over the mantel-piece, bolted out of the door, which she locked on the outside, and ran to the most remote corner of the house for shelter. In the mean time, how fared it at Merryvale? Andy returned with his parcel for the squire, and his note from Murtough Murphy, which ran thus : MY DEAR SQUIRE,-I send you the blister for O'Grady, as you insist on it; but I think you won't find it easy to serve him with it. "Your obedient and obliged, "MURTOUGH MURPHY." "To Edward Egan, Esq., Merryvale." The squire opened the cover, and when he saw a real instead of a figurative blister, grew crimson with rage. He could not speak for some minutes, his indignation was so excessive. "So!" said he, at last, "Mr. Murtough Murphy-you think to cut jokes with me, do you? By all that's sacred! I'll cut such a joke on you with the biggest horsewhip I can find, that you'll remember it. "Dear squire, I send you the blister." Bad luck to your impidence! Wait till awhile ago-that's all. By this and that, you'll get such a blistering from me that all the spermaceti in M'Garry's shop won't cure you. CHAPTER III. SQUIRE EGAN was as good as his word. He picked out the most suitable horsewhip for chastising the fancied impertinence of Murtough Murphy; and as he switched it up and down with a powerful arm, to try its weight and pliancy, the whistling of the instrument through the air was music to his ears, and whispered of promised joy in the flagellation of the jocular attorney. "We'll see who can make the sorest blister," said the squire. "I'll back whalebone against Spanish flies any day. Will you bet, Dick?" said he to his brother-in-law, who was a wild helter-skelter sort of fellow, better known over the country as Dick the Devil than Dick Dawson. "I'll back your bet, Ned." "There's no fun in that, Dick, as there is nobody to take it up." "Maybe Murtough will. Ask him before you thrash him; you'd better." "As for him," said the squire, "I'll be bound he'll back my bet after he gets a taste o' this:" and the horsewhip whistled as he spoke. "I think he had better take care of his back than his bet," said Dick, as he followed the squire to the hall-door, where his horse was in waiting for him, under the care of the renowned Andy, who little dreamed of the extensive harvest of mischief which was ripening in futurity, all from his sowing. "Don't kill him quite, Ned," said Dick, as the squire mounted to his saddle. "Why, if I went to horsewhip a gentleman, of course I should only shake my whip at him; but an attorney is another affair. And, as I'm sure he'll have an action against me for assault, I think I may as well get the worth o' my money out of him, to say nothing of teaching him better manners for the future, than to play off his jokes on his employers." With these words, off he rode in search of the devoted Murtough, who was not at home when the squire reached his house; but as he was returning through the village, he espied him coming down the street in company with Tom Durfy and the widow, who were laughing heartily at some joke Murtough was telling them, which seemed to amuse him as much as his hearers. "I'll make him laugh at the wrong side of his mouth," thought the squire, alighting and giving his horse to the care of one of the little ragged boys who with a very threatening aspect, and, confronting him were idling in the street. He approached Murphy and his party so as to produce a halt, he said, as distinctly as his rage would permit him to speak, "You little insignificant blackguard, I'll teach you how you'll cut your jokes on me again; I'll blister you, my buck!" and, laying hands on the astonished Murtough with the last word, he began a very smart horsewhipping of the attorney. The widow screamed, Tom Durfy swore, and Murtough roared, with some interjectional curses. At last he escaped from the squire's grip, leaving the lappel of his coat in his possession; and Tom Durfy interposed his person between them when he saw an intention on the part of the flagellator to repeat his dose of horsewhip. "Let me at him, sir: or by "Fie, fie, squire-to horse whip a gentleman like a cart-horse." "A gentleman!--an attorney, you mean." "I say, a gentleman, Squire Egan,” cried Murtough fiercely, roused to gallantry by the presence of a lady, and smarting under a sense of injury and whalebone. "I'm a gentleman, sir, and demand the satisfaction of a gentleman. I put my honour into your hands, Mr. Durfy." "Between his finger and thumb, you mean, for there's not a handful of it," said the squire. "Well, sir," replied Tom Durfy, "little or much, I'll take charge of it.-That's right my cock,” said he to Murtough, who, notwithstanding his desire to assume a warlike air, could not resist the natural impulse of rubbing his back and shoulders, which tingled with pain, while he exclaimed, "Satisfaction! satisfaction!" "Very well," said the squire: "you name yourself as Mr. Murphy's friend ?" added he to Durfy. Ah, Squire Egan, don't be so bloodthirsty !" "Ah, Mr. Murphy, I'm sure the squire's very sorry for beating you.' "Divil a bit," said the squire. "There, ma'am," said Murphy; you see he'll make no apology. 66 Apology!" said Durfy;" apology for a horsewhipping, indeed!-Nothing but handing a horsewhip (which I wouldn't ask any gentleman to do,) or a shot, can settle the matter." "Oh, Tom! Tom! Tom!" said the widow. "Ba! ba! ba!" shouted Tom, making a crying face at her. "Arrah, woman, don't be makin' a fool o' yourself. Go in there to the 'pothecary's, and get something under your nose to revive you; and let us mind our business." The widow, with her eyes turned up, and an exclamation to Heaven, was retiring to M'Garry's shop, wringing her hands, when she was nearly knocked down by M'Garry himself, who rushed from his own door, at the same moment that an awful smash of his shop-window, and the demolition of his blue and red bottles, alarmed the ears of the bystanders, while their eyes were drawn from the late belligerent parties to a chase which took place down the street, of the apothecary, roaring "Murder!" followed by Squire O'Grady with an enormous cudgel. house, I can arrange time and place with you this minute, and he will be on the ground with me." "Very well," said Tom; "where is it to be ?" "Suppose we say the cross-roads, halfway between this and Merryvale? There's very pretty ground there, and we shall be able to get our pistols, and all that, ready in the mean time between this and four o'clock,-and it will be pleasanter to have it all over before dinner." "Certainly, squire," said Tom Durfy;"we'll be there at four. Till then, good morning, squire ;" and he and his man walked off. 66 The widow, in the mean time, had been left to the care of the apothecary's boy, whose tender attentions were now, for the first time in his life, demanded towards a fainting lady; for the poor raw country lad, having to do with a sturdy peasantry in every day matters, had never before seen the capers cut by a lady who thinks it proper, and delicate, and becoming, to display her sensibility in a swoon; and truly her sobs, and small screeches, and little stampings and kickings, amazed young gallipot.-Smelling salts were applied-they were rather weak, so the widow inhaled the pleasing odour with a sigh, but did not recover.-Sal volatile was next put in requisition-this was somewhat stronger, and made her wriggle on her chair, and throw her head about with sundry ohs! and ahs!-The boy, beginning to be alarmed at the extent of the widow's syncope, bethought him of assafoetida, and, taking down a goodly bottle of that sweet-smelling stimulant, gave the widow the benefit of the whole jar under her nose.-Scarcely had the stopper been withdrawn, when she gave a louder screech than she had yet executed, and, exclaiming faugh!" with an expression of the most concentrated disgust, opened her eyes fiercely upon the offender, and shut up her nose between her fore-finger and thumb against the offence, and snuffled forth at the astonished boy, "Get out o' that, you dirty cur!-Can't you let a lady faint in peace and quietness ?-Gracious heavens! would you smother me, you nasty brute ?-Oh, Tom, where are you?"-and she took to sobbing forth, "Tom! Tom!" and put her handkerchief to her eyes, to hide the tears that were not there, while from behind the corner of the cambric she kept a sharp eye on the street, and observed what was going on. "Are you, you scoundrel!" said the squire, She went on acting her party very becomingly, until making a blow of his cudgel at him, which was the moment Tom Durfy walked off with Murphy; fended by an iron pestle the apothecary fortunately but then she could feign no longer, and jumping up had in his hand. The enraged O'Grady made a rush from her seat, with an exclamation of "The brute!" behind the counter, which the apothecary nimbly she ran to the door, and looked down the street after jumped over, crying, "Murder;" as he made for the them. "The savage!" sobbed the widow-" the door, followed by his pursuer, who gave a back-hard-hearted monster, to abandon me here to diehanded slap at the window-bottles en passant, and oh! to use me so-to leave me like a—like a—(the produced the crash which astonished the widow, widow was fond of similes) like an old shoe-like a who now joined her screams to the general hue-and-dirty glove-like a-like I don't know what!" (the cry; for an indiscriminate chase of all the ragamuffins in the town, with barking curs and screeching children, followed the flight of M'Garry and the pursuing squire. O'Grady, believing that M'Garry and the nursetender had combined to serve him with a writ, determined to wreak double vengeance on the apothecary, as the nurse had escaped him; and, notwithstanding all his illness and the appeals of his wife, he left his bed, and rode to the village to "break every bone in M'Garry's skin." When he entered his shop, the pharmacopolist was much surprised, and said, with a congratulatory grin at the great man, "Dear me, Squire O'Grady, I'm delighted to see you." usual fate of similes.) "Mister Durfy, I'll punish you for this-I will!" said the widow, with an energetic emphasis on the last word; and she marched out of the shop, boiling over with indignation, "What the divil is all this about?" said Tom through which, nevertheless, a little bubble of love Durfy, laughing. "By the powers! I suppose now and then rose to the surface; and by the time there's something in the weather, to produce all this she reached her own door, love predominated, and fun, though it's early in the year to begin thrash- she sighed as she laid her hand on the knocker: ing, the harvest isn't in yet. But, however, let us" After all, if the dear fellow should be killed, what manage our little affair, now that we're left in peace and quietness, for the blackguards are all over the bridge afther the hunt. I'll go to Dick the Divil immediately, squire, and arrange time and place." "There's nothing like saving time and trouble on these occasions," said the squire. "Dick is at my would become of me!-oh!-and that wretch, Dick Dawson, too-two of them.-The worst of these merry devils is, they are always fighting! The squire had ridden immediately homewards, and told Dick Dawson the piece of work that was before them. "And so he'll have a shot at you, instead of an ac- | tion?" said Dick. "Well, there's pluck in that: I wish he was more of a gentleman, for your sake. It's dirty work, shooting attorneys." "He's enough of a gentleman, Dick, to make it impossible for me to refuse him." "Certainly, Ned," said Dick. "Do you know, is he any thing of a shot?" "Faith, he makes very pretty snipe-shooting; but I don't know if he has experience of the grass before breakfast." "You must try and find out from any one on the ground; because, if the poor divil isn't a good shot, I wouldn't like to kill him, and I'll let him off easy -I'll give it to him in the pistol-arm, or so. "Very well, Ned. Where are the flutes? I must look over them." "Here," said the squire, producing a very handsome mahogany case of Rigby's best. Dick opened the case with the utmost care, and took up one of the pistols tenderly, handling it as delicately as if it were a young child or a lady's hand. He clicked the lock back and forwards a few times; and, his ear not being satisfied at the music it produced, he said he should like to examine them: "At all events, they want a touch of oil." "Well, keep them out of the misthriss's sight, Dick, for she might be alarmed." "Divil a taste," says Dick; "she's a Dawson, and there never was a Dawson yet that did not know men must be men.' "That's true, Dick. I wouldn't mind so much if she wasn't in a delicate situation just now, when it couldn't be expected of the woman to be so stout; so go, like a good fellow, into your own room, and Andy will bring you any thing you want.' Five minutes after, Dick was engaged in cleaning the duelling-pistols, and Andy at his elbow, with his mouth wide open, wondering at the interior of the locks which Dick had just taken off. "Oh, my heavens! but that's a quare thing, Misther Dick, sir," said Andy, going to take it up. "Keep your fingers off it, you thief, do," roared Dick, making a rap of the turnscrew at Andy's knuckles. "Sure I'll save you the throuble o' rubbin' that, Misther Dick, if you let me; here's the shabby leather." "I wouldn't let your clumsy fist near it, Andy, nor your shabby leather, you villain, for the world. Go get me some oil." Andy went on his errand, and returned with a can of lamp-oil to Dick, who swore at him for his stupidity: The divil fly away with you; you never do any thing right; you bring me lamp-oil for a pistol." Well, sure I thought lamp-oil was the right thing for burnin'." And who wants to burn it, you savage?" "Aren't you goin' to fire it, sir?" "Choke you, you vagabond!" said Dick, who could not resist laughing, nevertheless; "be off, and get me some sweet oil, but don't tell any one what it's for." Andy retired, and Dick pursued his polishing of the locks. Why he used such a blundering fellow as Andy for a messenger might be wondered at, only that Dick was fond of fun, and Andy's mistakes were a particular source of amusement to him, and on all occasions when he could have Andy in his company he made him his attendant. When the sweet oil was produced, Dick looked about for a feather; but, not finding one, desired Andy to fetch him a pen. Andy went on his errand, and returned, after some delay, with an inkbottle. "I brought you the ink, sir, but I can't find a pin." "Confound your numskull! I didn't say a word about ink; I asked for a pen." "And what use would a pin be without ink, now I ax yourself, Misther Dick?" "I'd knock your brains out if you had any, you omadhaun! Go along and get me a feather, and make haste." Andy went off, and, having obtained a feather, returned to Dick, who began to tip certain portions of the lock very delicately with oil. "What's that for, Misther Dick, sir, if you plaze?" "To make it work smooth." "And what's that thing you're grazin' now, sir?" "That's the tumbler." "O Lord! a tumbler-what a quare name for it. thought there was no tumbler but a tumbler for punch." I "That's the tumbler you would like to be cleaning the inside of, Andy." "Thrue for you, sir.-And what's that little thing you have your hand on now, sir?" "That's the cock." "Oh dear, a cock !-Is there e'er a hin in it, sir." "No, nor a chicken either, though there is a feather." "The one in your hand, sir, that you're grazin' it with." "No: but this little thing-that is called the feather-spring." "It's the feather, I suppose, makes it let fly." "No doubt of it, Andy." "Well there's some sinse in that name, then; but who'd think of sitch a thing as a tumbler and a cock in a pistle? And what's that place that opens and shuts, sir?" "The pan." "Well, there's sinse in that name too, bekaze there's fire in the thing; and it's as nath'ral to say pan to that as to a fryin'-pan-isn't it, Misther Dick ?" "Oh! there was a great gunmaker lost in you, Andy," said Dick, as he screwed on the locks, which he had regulated to his mind, and began to examine the various departments of the pistol case, to see that it was properly provided. He took the instrument to cut some circles of thin leather, and Andy again asked him for the name "o' that thing." "That is called the punch, Andy." "So, there is the punch as well as the tumbler, sir?" "Ay, and very strong punch it is, you see, Andy;" and Dick struck it with his little mahogany mallet, and cut his patches of leather. "And what's that for, sir ?-the leather, I mane." "That's for putting round the ball." "Is it for fear 'twould hurt him too much when you hot him?" "You're a queer customer, Andy," said Dick, smiling. "And what weeshee little balls thim is, sir," "They are always small for duelling-pistols." "Oh, then thim is jewellin' pistles. Why, musha, Misther Dick, is it goin' to fight a jule you are?" said Andy, looking at him with earnestness. "No, Andy, but the master is; but don't say a word about it." "Not a word for the world. The masther goin' |