God--blessed be his name--has made; it's not right, it's sinful."

"But why was I served with two salt herrings, I ask again?"

"Why wor you sarved with them?--Why, wasn't it what we had ourselves?"

"Was I not promised venison?"

"Who promised it to you?"

"That female waiter of yours."

"Peggy Moylan? Well, then, I tell you the fau't wasn't hers. We had a
party o' gintlemen out here last week, and the sorra drop of it they
left behind them. Devil a drop of venison there is in the house now.
You're an Englishman, at any rate, sir, I think by your discourse?"

"Was I not promised part of a fat buck from the demesne adjoining, and
where is it? I thought I was to have fish, flesh, and fowl."

"Well, and haven't you fish." replied the fellow. "What do you call
them!" he added, pointing to the herrings; "an' as to a fat buck, faith,
it isn't part of one, but a whole one you have. What do you call that."
He lifted an old battered tin cover, and discovered a rabbit, gathered
up as if it were in the act of starting for its burrow. "You see, Peggy,
sir, always keeps her word; for it was a buck rabbit she meant. Well,
now, there's the fish and the flesh; and here," he proceeded, uncovering
another dish, "is the fowl."

[Illustration: PAGE 329-- A pair of enormous legs, with spurs on them]