A TYPICAL JARVEV 



If anything could beat the Dublin cab, it was that Galway 

 carriage. We set off lurching and rattling / and soon, the 

 wind catching us from over the fields, the rain began to 

 strike in across the open windows. To have a window 

 up seemed the simple remedy / but things simple elsewhere 

 are not so in the West of Ireland. One window was as 

 impossible to lift out of its socket as the oyster out of its 

 closed shells, for it was strapless. We fell upon the other 

 strap and instantly the window shot outwards at right 

 angles, with the evident intention of casting itself on the 

 road, had we not held it despairingly by its shabby append- 

 age. If you have ever tried to hold a window in that 

 position by its strap you will know how agonizing is the 

 process. The driver was hailed. 



" Look here ! Your window's loose ! You'd better stop 

 and put it back/' 



The slogging trot of the horses slackened, and over his 

 shoulder the man of Galway demanded : 

 " Is it the windy on the left, or the wan to the right of 

 ye?" 



" The left, the left ! Oh, do be quick ! " 

 " The left, is it ? Sure, isn't that the wan with the sthrap ? " 

 He jerked his reins and clucked at his horses. What 

 more could we want? Wasn't that the one with the 

 "sthrap?" 



With great difficulty, with imminent risk to the life of the 

 window and our own safety, we got the recalcitrant pane 

 back into its socket, and discovered that by dint of 

 judicious manipulation, and a tight hold of the " sthrap," 

 it was possible to shelter the most neuralgic of the party. 

 A ten Irish miles' drive along the stoniest of roads, through 



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