"Why, sir,—Why, sir," swelling with rage, "why—sir—d—- his impudence!"
"For shame, Samuel, don't swear."
"Swear, sir? Don't tell me! this ought to make a parson swear."
Samuel snatched up his hat and ran out of the house.
In about two hours afterwards, as the old, impudent, Irish, cracked general was finishing his dinner at his own lodgings, in strutted Mr. Samuel, foaming with rage.
"Your most obedient," said the general.
"Sir," answered Samuel, "I am no parson, therefore no ceremony with me if you please. I want you to meet me to-morrow morning in Hyde Park at six; and, do you hear? Bring your second with you; there's my card."
"Just as you please, Mr. Mr.," and then the comical general read the card aloud, "Mr. Samuel Michael—just exactly as you please. Won't you take a glass of wine?" continued the general, looking at him for an instant, as he filled his own glass.
"No sir," said Samuel Michael, fiercely, "all I require of you, sir, is punctuality to-morrow morning."