he bottle of
soda, knocking out two of the lights with the projected cork, which
struck the squire himself in the eye at the foot of the table; while the
hostess, at the head, had a cold bath down her back. Andy, when he saw
the soda-water jumping out of the bottle, held it from him at arm's
length, at every fizz it made, exclaiming: "Ow! Ow! Ow!" and at last,
when the bottle was empty, he roared out: "Oh, oh, it's all gone!"

Great was the commotion. Few could resist laughter, except the ladies,
who all looked at their gowns, not liking the mixture of satin and
soda-water. The extinguished candles were relighted, the squire got his
eyes open again, and the next time he perceived the butler sufficiently
near to speak to him, he said, in a low and hurried tone of deep anger,
while he knit his brow:

"Send that fellow out of the room." Suspended from indoor service, Andy
was not long before he distinguished himself out of doors in such a way
as to involve his master in a coil of trouble, and, incidentally, to
retard the good fortune that came to himself in the end.

THE SQUIRE SENDS ANDY TO THE
POST-OFFICE FOR A LETTER

The squire said to him one day:

"Ride into the town and see if there's a letter for me."

"Yes, sir," said Andy.

"Do you know where to go?" inquired his master.

"To the town, sir," was the reply.

"But do you know where to go in the town?"

"No, sir."

"And why don't you ask, you stupid thief?"

"Sure, I'd find out, sir."

"Didn't I often tell you to ask what you're to do when you don't know?"

"Yes, sir."

"And why don't you?"

"I don't like to be troublesome, sir."

"Confound you!" said the squire, though he could not help laughing at
Andy's excuse for remaining in ignorance. "Well, go to the post-office.
You know the post-office, I suppose?" continued his master in sarcastic
tones.

"Yes, sir; where they sell gunpowder."

"You're right for once," said the squire--for his Majesty's postmaster
was the person who had the privilege of dealing in the aforesaid
combustible. "Go, then, to the post-office, and ask for a letter for me.
Remember, not gunpowder, but a letter."

"Yes, sir," said Andy, who got astride of his hack, and trotted away to
the post-office.

On arriving at the shop of the postmaster (for that person carried on a
brisk trade in groceries, gimlets, broadcloth, and linen-drapery), Andy
presented himself at the counter, and said:

"I want a letther, sir, i