"Then what fatigued you?--eh?" "Salmon-fishing, sir." "What!" exclaimed O'Grady, opening his fierce eyes, and turning suddenly round. "Salmon-fishing! Where the d----l were you salmon-fishing?" "In the wiver, close by here." The ladies now all stared; but Furlong advanced a vehement assurance, in answer to their looks of wonder, that he had taken some very fine salmon indeed. The girls could not suppress their laughter; and O'Grady, casting a look of mingled rage and contempt on the fisherman, merely uttered the ejaculation, "Oh, Moses!" and threw himself back in his chair; but starting up a moment after, he rang the bell violently. "What do you want, my dear?" said his poor wife, venturing to lift her eyes, and speaking in the humblest tone--"what do you want?" "Some broiled bones!" said O'Grady, very much like an ogre; "I want something to settle my stomach after what I've heard, for, by the powers of ipecacuanha, 't is enough to make a horse sick--sick, by the powers!--shivering all over like a dog in a wet sack. I must have broiled bones and hot punch!" The servant entered, and O'Grady swore at him for not coming sooner, though he was really expeditious in his answer to the bell. "Confound your lazy bones; you're never in time." "'Deed, sir; I came the minit I heerd the bell." "Hold your tongue!--who bid you talk? The devil fly away with you!--and you'll never go fast till he does. Make haste now--go to the cook----" "Yes, sir." "Curse you! can't you wait till you get your message? Go to the devil with you!--get some broiled bones--hot water and tumblers--don't forget the whisky--and pepper them well. Mind, hot--everything hot--screeching hot. Be off, now, and make haste--mind, make haste!" "Yes, sir," said the servant, whipping out of the room with celerity, and thanking Heaven when he had the door between him and his savage master. When he got to the kitchen, he told the cook to make haste, if ever she made haste in her life, "for there's owld Danger up-stairs in the divil's temper, God bless us!" said Mick. "Faix, he's always that," said the cook, scurrying across the kitchen for the gridiron. "Oh! but he's beyant all to-night," said Mick; "I think he'll murther that chap up-stairs before he stops." "Oh, wirra! wirra!" cried the cook; "there's the fire not bright, bad luck to it, and he wantin' a brile!" "Bright or not bright," said Mick, "make haste I'd advise you, or he'll have your life." The bell rang violently. "There, do you hear him tattherin'?" said Mick, rushing up-stairs. "I thought it was tay they wor takin'," said Larry Hogan, who was sitting in the chimney-corner, smoking. "So they are," said the cook. "Then I suppose, briled bones is genteel with tay?" said Larry. "Oh, no; it's not for tay, at all, they want them; it's only ould Danger himself. Whenever he's in a rage, he ates briled bones." "'Faith, they are a brave cure for anger," said Larry; "I wouldn't be angry myself, if I had one."