e prince. Under
these circumstances, sir, considering the _awful consequences_ of
your ungoverned rage (which, I doubt not, now, you deplore), I would
suggest to you by a timely offer of compromise, in the shape of a
handsome sum of money--say two hundred pounds--to lull the storms
which must otherwise burst on your devoted head, and save your name
from dishonour. I anxiously await your answer, as proceedings must
instantly commence, and the law take its course, unless Mrs. M'Garry
can be pacified.

"I have the honour to be, Sir,

"Your most obedient Servant,

"Murtough Murphy.

"_To Gustavus Granby O'Grady, Esq.,
Neck-or-Nothing Hall._"

O'Grady was thoroughly frightened; and strange as it may appear, did
believe he could compromise for killing only a plebeian; and actually
sent Murphy his note of hand for the sum demanded. Murtough posted off
to M'Garry: he and his wife received him with shouts of indignation,
and heaped reproaches on his head, for the trick he had played on the
apothecary.

"Oh! Misther Murphy--never look me in the face again!" said Mrs.
M'Garry, who was ugly enough to make the request quite unnecessary; "to
send my husband home to me a beast!"

"Striped like a tiger!" said M'Garry.

"Blacking and pickled cabbage, Misther Murphy!" said the wife. "Oh fie,
sir!--I did not think you could be so low."

"Galvanism!" said M'Garry, furiously. "My professional honour wounded!"

"Whisht, whisht, man!" said Murphy; "there's a finer plaister than any
in your shop for the cure of wounded honour. Look at that!"--and he
handed him the note for two hundred: "there's galvanism for you!"

"What _is_ this?" said M'Garry, in amazement.

"The result of last night's inquest," said Murphy. "You have got your
damages without a trial; so pocket your money, and be thankful."

The two hundred pounds at once changed the aspect of affairs. M'Garry
vowed eternal gratitude, with protestations that Murphy was the
cleverest attorney alive, and ought to be chief justice. The wife was
equally vociferous in her acknowledgments, until Murtough, who, when he
entered the house, was near falling a sacrifice to the claws of the
apothecary's wife, was obliged to rush from the premises to shun the
more terrible consequences of her embraces.

CHAPTER VI

We have sat so long at our dinner, that we have almost lost sight of
poor Andy, to whom we must now return. Whe