HANDY ANDY'S LITTLE MISTAKES.

When Handy Andy grew up to be "a brave lump of a boy," his mother thought he was old enough to do something for himself, so she took him one day along with her to the Squire's, and waited outside the door until chance might give her "a sight of the Squire afore he wint out or afore he wint in," and after spending her entire day in this idle way at last the Squire made his appearance, and Judy presented her son, who kept scraping his foot, and pulling his forelock, that stuck out like a piece of ragged thatch from his forehead, making his obeisance to the Squire, while his mother was sounding his praises for “bein' the handiest crayture alive-an' so willin'-nothin' comes wrong to him."

66 I suppose the English of all this is, you want me to take him," said the Squire.

“Throth, an' yer honor, that's just it—if your honor would be plased."

"What can he do?"

"Anything, your honor."

"That means nothing, I suppose," said the Squire.

"Oh, no, sir. Everything, I mane, that you would desire to do."

"Can he take care of horses ?"

"The best of care sir," said the mother, while the miller, who was standing behind the Squire, waiting for orders, made a grimace at Andy, who was obliged to cram his face into his hat to hide the laugh, which he could hardly smother from being heard as well as seen.

"Let him come, then, and help in the stables, and we'll see what we can do."

"And may the angels make your honor's bed this blessed night, I pray."

Judy and her hopeful son turned to the right about in doublequick time, and hurried down the avenue.

The next day Andy was duly installed into his office of stablekeeper; and, as he was a good rider, he was soon made whipperin to the hounds, and Andy's boldness in this capacity soon made him a favorite with the Squire, who scorned the attentions of a valet, and let any one that chance threw in his way bring his boots, or his hot water for shaving, or his coat whenever it was brushed. One morning, Andy, who was very often the attendant on such occasions came to his room with hot water. He tapped at the door.

"Who's that?" said the Squire, who had just risen.

"Oh-Andy, come in."

"Here's the hot water, sir," said Andy, bearing an enormous tin can.

"Why, what the deuce brings that tin can here? You might as well bring the stable bucket."

"I beg you pardon, sir,” said Andy, retreating.

In two minutes more Andy came back, and tapping at the door, put in his head cautiously, and said "The maids in the kitchen, your honor, says there's not so much hot wather ready." "Did I not see it a moment since in your hand?"

"Yes, sir, but that's not nigh the full o' the shtable-bucket." "Go along, you stupid thief! and get me some hot water directly."

"Will the can do, sir?"

"Aye, anything, so make haste."

Off posted Andy, and back he came with the can. "Where'll I put it, sir?''

"Throw this out," said the Squire, handing Andy a jug containing some cold water, meaning the jug to be replenished with the hot.

Andy took the jug, and the window of the room being open, he very deliberately threw the jug out. The Squire stared with wonder, and at last said:

"What did you do that for?"

"Sure you towld me to throw it out, sir."

"Go out of this, you thick-headed villain !" said the Squire, throwing his boots at Andy's head, along with some very neat curses. Andy retreated, and thought himself a very ill-used person.

Though Andy's regular duty was "whipper-in," yet he was liable to be called on to attend at table, when the number of guests required that all the subs. should be put in requisition, or rode on some distant errand for the "mistress," or drove out the nurse and children on the jaunting car, and many were the mistakes, delays or accidents that occurred.

The first time Andy was admitted into the mysteries of the dining-room, great was his wonder. The butler took him in to give him some previous instructions, and Andy was so astonished at the sight of the assembled glass and plate, that he stood with his mouth and eyes wide open, and scarcely heard a word that was said to him. After the head man had been dinning his instructions into him for some time, he said he might go until his attendance was required. But Andy moved not; he stood with his eyes fixed by a sort of fascination on some object that seemed to rivet them with the same unaccountable influence which the rattlesnake exercises over its victim.

"What are you looking at?" said the butler.

"Ther things, sir," said Andy, pointing to some silver forks. "What things do you mean?"

"These things, sir," said Andy, taking up one of the silver

forks, and turning it round and round in his hand in utter astonishment, while the butler grinned at his ignorance, and enjoyed his own superior knowledge.

"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 hoarse 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, etc. But "one day," as Zanga says, 66 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.

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

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

"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 can be? Can't you do it yourself?"

66

'Well, go an' 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!"

"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 from you! Can't you let me alone ?”
“There's a gintleman wants some soap and wather."
"Some what?"

"The sorrow sweep you! soda-water, you mane.

it under the sideboard."

"Is it in the can, sir ?"

"No, you dhunderhead! in the bottles."

You'll get

"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?"

66

'I wish you wor in the bottom o' the say," said Mr. Morgan, who was fuming and puffing, and rubbing down his face with a napkin as he was hurrying to all quarters of the room, or, as Andy said in praising his activity, that he was "like bad luck, everywhere.'

"There they are," said Mr. Morgan at last.

"Oh, them bottles that wont stand," said Andy, "sure them's what I said, with no bottoms to them. How'll I open it? It's

tied down."

"Cut the cord, you fool."

Andy did as he was desired; and he happened at the time to hold the bottle of soda-water on a level with the candles that shed light over the festive board from a large silver branch, and the moment he made the incision, bang went the bottle of sodawater, knocking out two of the lights with the projected cork, which, performing its parabola the length of the room, struck the Squire himself in the eye at the foot of the table; while the hos