he 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 sich a
thing as a tumbler and a cock in a pistle? And what's that place that
open and shuts, sir?"

"The pan."

"Well, there's sinse in that name too, bekase 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?

"This 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 't would hurt him too much when you shot 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's goin' to fight! God send him
safe out iv it! amin. And who is he going to fight, Misther Dick?"

"Murphy, the attorney, Andy."

"Oh, won't the masther disgrace himself by fightin' the 'torney?"

"How dare you say such a thing of your master?"

"I ax your pard'n, Misther Dick: but sure you know what I mane. I hope
he'll shoot him."

"Why, Andy, Murtough was always very good to you, and now you wish him
to be shot."

"Sure, why wouldn't I rather have him kilt more than the masther?"

"But neither may be killed."

"Misther Dick," said Andy, lowering his voice, "wouldn't it be an
iligant thing to put two balls into the pistle instead o' one, and give
the masther a chance over the 'torney?"

"Oh, you murdherous villain!"

"Arrah! why shouldn't the masther have a chance over him!--sure he has
childre, and 'Torney Murphy has none."

"At any rate, Andy, I suppose you'd give the masther a ball add