44 LIFE IN IRELAND 



enquiry of her friend. 'Sure I didn't come at all; I 

 was brought by Sally to catch a Dublin Bay herring, 

 a soft-roed fellow, but fat. It wouldn't fit; she grew 

 sulky and quit whilst I was settling a small score with 

 P^tzpatrick the dog-stealer to the Lord Lieutenant.' 

 'What do you mean, Poll?' 'Mean! why hasn't he 

 got a commission to shoot all the dogs likely to go 

 mad in Dublin? I wonder you've escaped so long.' 

 Brian by this time began to feel a little uneasy ; he 

 had never been in such a thundering machine before ; 

 full ten feet from the ground, supported by iron bars 

 instead of springs, hard boards to sit upon, and a bit 

 of sharp Irish oak to lean your back against, and curry- 

 comb you at every jolt. 



Bagot Street is so well paved, that it has been 

 regularly indicted for a nuisance seventeen sessions 

 following, but no good has been got by it; half the 

 parish have indicted their wives as a nuisance, and 

 solicited to have them removed as rubbish, but they 

 continue to rub on with them, the law having pro- 

 nounced them above their cognizance. Entering on 

 the stoney part, Brian swore he'd alight before his 

 entrails were turned topsy turvy. The whole party 

 laughed, and Poll swore none but a griffin would have 

 the bad manners to complain of a jingle from the 

 Black Rock. So eager were the party in conversation 

 they never perceived that the garren followed his nose, 

 his eyes he could not, for he was stone blind every 

 Monday morning he got up. In truth, Tim Slaney 

 was enjoying a sound nap when whack went the jingle 

 up against the middle man {post) of Low Ground 

 Bridge ; over it went full tilt ; Poll caught Brian round 



