The stranger, on reaching the inn, had not long to wait for dinner,
which, to his disappointment, was anything but what he had been taught
to expect. The fair "waiter" had led his imagination a very ludicrous
dance, indeed, having, as Shakspeare says, kept the word of promise to
his ear, but broken it to his hope, and, what was still worse, to
his appetite. On sitting down, he found before him two excellent salt
herrings to begin with; and on ringing the bell to inquire why he was
provided with such a dainty, the male waiter himself, who had finished
the field he had been ploughing, made his appearance, after a delay of
about five minutes, very coolly wiping his mouth, for he had been at
dinner.

"Are you the waiter," asked the stranger, sharply.

"No, sir, I'm not the waiter, myself; but I and Peggy Moylan is."

"And why didn't you come when I rang for you at first?"

"I was just finishin' my dinner, sir," replied the other, pulling a bone
of a herring from between his teeth, then going over and deliberately
throwing it into the fire.

The stranger was silent with astonishment, and, in truth, felt a
stronger inclination to laugh than to scold him. This fellow, thought
he, is clearly an original; I must draw him out a little.

"Why, sir," he proceeded, "was I served with a pair of d--d salt
herrings, as a part of my dinner?"

"Whist, sir," replied the fellow, "don't curse anything that