“Up-stairs I went, and in due time the appetizing little meal made its appearance. Never did a minor’s eye revel over his broad acres with more complacent enjoyment than did mine skim over the mutton and the muffin, the tea-pot, the trout, and the devilled kidney, so invitingly spread out before me. ‘Yes,’ thought I, as I smacked my lips, ‘this is the reward of virtue; pickled pork is a probationary state that admirably fits us for future enjoyments.’ I arranged my napkin upon my knee, seized my knife and fork, and proceeded with most critical acumen to bisect a beefsteak. Scarcely, however, had I touched it, when, with a loud crash, the plate smashed beneath it, and the gravy ran piteously across the cloth. Before I had time to account for the phenomenon, the door opened hastily, and the waiter rushed into the room, his face beaming with smiles, while he rubbed his hands in an ecstasy of delight.
“‘It’s all over, sir,’ said he; ‘glory be to God! it’s all done.’
“‘What’s over? What’s done?’ inquired I, with impatience.
“‘Mr. M’Mahon is satisfied,’ replied he, ‘and so is the other gentleman.’
“‘Who and what the devil do you mean?’
“‘It’s over, sir, I say,’ replied the waiter again; ‘he fired in the air.’
“‘Fired in the air! Was there a duel in the room below stairs?’
“‘Yes, sir,’ said the waiter, with a benign smile.