128 WHAT I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



a resting-place for both his elbows, while he rubbed 

 his chin and looked important, as if calculating the 

 heaps of money the hay would bring, gave me 

 sufficient confidence, in spite of past experiences, to 

 rest my right foot on the second bar. The gate fell 

 forward and my leg with it, so that my seat almost 

 touched the ground, while my left leg was painfully 

 stretched backward. Fortunately, the farmer was 

 in the meantime making a clutch at my coat. This 

 saved me, but he lost his hold and his balance, had 

 to take a falling step forward, tripped amongst the 

 bars and had a fall. We smiled at each other 

 while he smoothed the nap of the family relic which 

 he placed on quite another part of his head from 

 that which it had occupied before. Then his smile 

 changed to a severe frown while he explained that 

 the accident was the fault of Garrotty, the smith, 

 who had promised him nails when the field was 

 first " laid up." " A murtherin villain, bad luck to 

 him, and divil a pity. It's the back of me hand 

 he'll get for the rest of me life." There was a 

 sudden stop to his good wishes for the poor smith, 

 and, after scratching his head, which appears to be 

 a much approved method for clearing Irish brains, 

 he added, " It's meself that's shure it was Garrotty, 

 the divil take him, that I had the spaking to." 



I was asking him if his grass was not a little 

 over-ripe just as he and his gate went over, and, 

 as I feel interested in over-ripe grass, I repeated 

 my question. " Shure and it's meself that would 



