"I have the honour to be, Sir,
"Your most obedient Servant,
"Murtough Murphy.
"To Gustavus Granby O'Grady, Esq.,
Neck-or-Nothing Hall."
O'Grady was thoroughly frightened; and strange as it may appear, did believe he could compromise for killing only a plebeian; and actually sent Murphy his note of hand for the sum demanded. Murtough posted off to M'Garry: he and his wife received him with shouts of indignation, and heaped reproaches on his head, for the trick he had played on the apothecary.
"Oh! Misther Murphy—never look me in the face again!" said Mrs. M'Garry, who was ugly enough to make the request quite unnecessary; "to send my husband home to me a beast!"
"Striped like a tiger!" said M'Garry.
"Blacking and pickled cabbage, Misther Murphy!" said the wife. "Oh fie, sir!—I did not think you could be so low."
"Galvanism!" said M'Garry, furiously. "My professional honour wounded!"
"Whisht, whisht, man!" said Murphy; "there's a finer plaister than any in your shop for the cure of wounded honour. Look at that!"—and he handed him the note for two hundred: "there's galvanism for you!"