"Well!" said Andy, after a long pause, "the devil be from me if ever I
seen a silver spoon split that way before!"

The butler gave a horse laugh, and made a standing joke of Andy's split
spoon; but time and experience made Andy less impressed with wonder at
the show of plate and glass, and the split spoons became familiar as
"household words" to him; yet still there were things in the duties of
table attendance beyond Andy's comprehension--he used to hand cold
plates for fish, and hot plates for jelly, &c. But "one day," as Zanga
says--"one day" he was thrown off his centre in a remarkable degree by
a bottle of soda-water.

It was when that combustible was first introduced into Ireland as a
dinner beverage that the occurrence took place, and Andy had the luck
to be the person to whom a gentleman applied for some soda-water.

"Sir?" said Andy.

"Soda-water," said the guest, in that subdued tone in which people are
apt to name their wants at a dinner-table.

Andy went to the butler. "Mr. Morgan, there's a gintleman----"

"Let me alone, will you?" said Mr. Morgan.

Andy manoeuvred round him a little longer, and again essayed to be
heard.

"Mr. Morgan!"

"Don't you see I'm as busy as I can be? Can't you do it yourself?"

"I dunna what he wants."

"Well, go ax him," said Mr. Morgan.

Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the thirsty gentleman's
chair, with, "I beg your pardon, sir."

"Well!" said the gentleman.

"I beg your pardon, sir; but what's this you axed me for?"

"Soda-water."

"What, sir?"

"Soda-water: but, perhaps you have not any."

"Oh, there's plenty in the house, sir! Would you like it hot, sir?"

The gentleman laughed, and supposing the new fashion was not understood
in the present company said, "Never mind."

But Andy was too anxious to please to be so satisfied, and again
applied to Mr. Morgan.

"Sir!" said he.

"Bad luck to you!--can't you let me alone?"

"There's a gentleman wants some soap and wather."

"Some what?"

"Soap and wather, sir."

"Divil sweep you!--Soda-wather you mane. You'll get it under the
side-board."

"Is it in the can, sir?"

"The curse o' Crum'll on you! in the bottles."

"Is this it, sir?" said Andy producing a bottle of ale.

"No, bad cess to you!--the little bottles."

"Is it the little bottles with no bottoms, sir?"

"I wish _you_ wor in the bottom o' the say!" said Mr. Morgan, who was
fuming and puffing, and rubbing down h