172 HIGHWAYS AND HORSES. 



carry you, goes by the name of "Gilbert's Gripe," 

 because it was there — a nephew of Mr. Redmond's 

 I think he was, in the horse soldiers — pounded every 

 other mother's son in the field ! Be jabers, I never 

 saw such a lep ! and the horse — the very same breed 

 as this mare here — he never laid an iron to it ! 



" ' By the powers of Moll Kelly, but I see the 

 Corelish post-car, there ahead of us in the straight bit 

 of road. Do you notice him, miss ? The wreenchie 

 little speck. I do mostly race him to the Cross of 

 Cara Chapel, where our roads part, and I'm thinking 

 I've the legs of him this time! Altho' he has the old 

 piebald and a big start we'll just slip down by the 

 short cut through the bog, and nail him neatly at the 

 corner ! ' 



" At first this announcement was Greek to his fare ; 

 but she began to comprehend what he meant, as he 

 turned sharply into a by-way, or boreen, and started 

 his only too willing steed at a brisk canter ! 



" ' There's Cara Chapel," he said, indicating a 

 slated building on the edge of a vast expanse of bog. 

 ' You'll see how illegantly we will disappoint him ; he 

 is on the upper road, and that puts a good mile on 

 him. It will be worth your while to watch his face, as 

 we give him the go-by and finds we have bested him 

 after all ! Do you get the smell of them hawthorns, 

 miss ? They are coming out beautiful ' (as they 

 careered along a narrow, grassy boreen, betw^een a 

 forest of may-bushes, white with flower). ' And now, 

 here's the bog,' he added excitedly, as the boreen 

 suddenly turned into a cart-track, running like a cause- 

 way through a wide extent of peat and heath, that lay 

 far beneath on either side, without the smallest fence 

 or protection of any kind. It was an exceedingly 



