"I know your brother; he lives with Mr. Mordicai, in Long-Acre, in London."

"Oh, G.o.d bless you for that!"

They came at this time within view of a range of about four-and-twenty men and boys, sitting astride on four-and-twenty heaps of broken stones, on each side of the road; they were all armed with hammers, with which they began to pound with great diligence and noise as soon as they saw the carriage. The chaise pa.s.sed between these batteries, the stones flying on all sides.

"How are you, Jem?--How are you Phil?" said Larry. "But hold your hand, can't ye, while I stop and get the stones out of the horses'

_feet_. So you're making up the rent, are you, for St. Dennis?"

"Whoosh!" said one of the pounders, coming close to the postilion, and pointing his thumb back towards the chaise. "Who have you in it?"

"Oh, you need not scruple, he's a very honest man;--he's only a man from North Wales, one Mr. Evans, an innocent jantleman, that's sent over to travel up and down the country, to find is there any copper mines in it."

"How do you know, Larry?"

"Because I know very well, from one that was tould, and I _seen_ him tax the man of the King's Head with a copper half-crown at first sight, which was only lead to look at, you'd think, to them that was not skilful in copper. So lend me a knife, till I cut a linchpin out of the hedge, for this one won't go far."

Whilst Larry was making the linchpin, all scruple being removed, his question about St. Dennis and the rent was answered.

"Ay, it's the rint, sure enough, we're pounding out for him; for he sent the driver round last night-was-eight days, to warn us Old Nick would be down a'-Monday, to take a sweep among us; and there's only six clear days, Sat.u.r.day night, before the a.s.sizes, sure: so we must see and get it finished any way, to clear the presentment again' the swearing day, for he and Paddy Hart is the overseers themselves, and Paddy is to swear to it."

"St. Dennis, is it? Then you've one great comfort and security--that he won't be _particular_ about the swearing; for since ever he had his head on his shoulders, an oath never stuck in St. Dennis's throat, more than in his own brother, Old Nick's."

"His head upon his shoulders!" repeated Lord Colambre. "Pray, did you ever hear that St. Dennis's head was off his shoulders?"

"It never was, plase your honour, to my knowledge."

"Did you never, among your saints, hear of St. Dennis carrying his head in his hand?" said Lord Colambre.

"The _rael_ saint!" said the postilion, suddenly changing his tone, and looking shocked. "Oh, don't be talking that way of the saints, plase your honour."

"Then of what St. Dennis were you talking just now?--Whom do you mean by St. Dennis, and whom do you call Old Nick?"

"Old Nick," answered the postilion, coming close to the side of the carriage, and whispering,--"Old Nick, plase your honour, is our nickname for one Nicholas Garraghty, Esq., of College-green, Dublin, and St. Dennis is his brother Dennis, who is Old Nick's brother in all things, and would fain be a saint, only he's a sinner. He lives just by here, in the country, under-agent to Lord Clonbrony, as Old Nick is upper-agent--it's only a joke among the people, that are not fond of them at all. Lord Clonbrony himself is a very good jantleman, if he was not an absentee, resident in London, leaving us and every thing to the likes of them."

Lord Colambre listened with all possible composure and attention; but the postilion, having now made his linchpin of wood, and _fixed himself_, he mounted his bar, and drove on, saying to Lord Colambre, as he looked at the road-makers, "Poor _cratures_! They couldn't keep their cattle out of pound, or themselves out of jail, but by making this road."

"Is road-making, then, a very profitable business!--Have road-makers higher wages than other men in this part of the country?"

"It is, and it is not--they have, and they have not--plase your honour."

"I don't understand you."

"No, beca-ase you're an Englishman--that is, a Welshman--beg your honour's pardon. But I'll tell you how that is, and I'll go slow over these broken stones--for I can't go fast: it is where there's no jantleman over these under-agents, as here, they do as they plase; and when they have set the land they get rasonable from the head landlords, to poor cratures at a rackrent, that they can't live and pay the rent, they say--"

"Who says?"

"Them under-agents, that have no conscience at all. Not all--but _some_, like Dennis, says, says he, 'I'll get you a road to make up the rent:' that is, plase your honour, the agent gets them a presentment for so many perches of road from the grand jury, at twice the price that would make the road. And tenants are, by this means, as they take the road by contract, at the price given by the county, able to pay all they get by the job, over and above potatoes and salt, back again to the agent, for the arrear on the land. Do I make your honour _sensible_[1]?"

[Footnote 1: Do I make you understand?]

"You make me much more sensible than I ever was before," said Lord Colambre: "but is not this cheating the county?"

"Well, and suppose," replied Larry, "is not it all for my good, and yours too, plase your honour?" said Larry, looking very shrewdly.

"My good!" said Lord Colambre, startled. "What have I to do with it?"

"Haven't you to do with the roads as well as me, when you're travelling upon them, plase your honour? And sure, they'd never be got made at all, if they wern't made this ways; and it's the best way in the wide world, and the finest roads we have. And when the _rael_ jantleman's resident in the country, there's no jobbing can be, because they're then the leading men on the grand jury; and these journeymen jantlemen are then kept in order, and all's right."

Lord Colambre was much surprised at Larry's knowledge of the manner in which county business is managed, as well as by his shrewd good sense: he did not know that this is not uncommon in his rank of life in Ireland.

Whilst Larry was speaking, Lord Colambre was looking from side to side at the desolation of the prospect.

"So this is Lord Clonbrony's estate, is it?"

"Ay, all you see, and as far and farther than you can see. My Lord Clonbrony wrote, and ordered plantations here, time back; and enough was paid to labourers for ditching and planting. And, what next?--Why, what did the under-agent do, but let the goats in through gaps, left o' purpose, to bark the trees, and then the trees was all banished.

And next, the cattle was let in trespa.s.sing, and winked at, till the land was all poached: and then the land was waste, and cried down: and Saint Dennis wrote up to Dublin to Old Nick, and he over to the landlord, how none would take it, or bid any thing at all for it: so then it fell to him a cheap bargain. Oh, the tricks of them! who knows 'em, if I don't?" Presently, Lord Colambre's attention was roused again, by seeing a man running, as if for his life, across a bog, near the roadside: he leaped over the ditch, and was upon the road in an instant. He seemed startled at first, at the sight of the carriage; but, looking at the postilion, Larry nodded, and he smiled and said, "All's safe!" "Pray, my good friend, may I ask what that is you have on your shoulder?" said Lord Colambre. "_Plase_ your honour, it is only a private still, which I've just caught out yonder in the bog; and I'm carrying it in with all speed to the gauger, to make a discovery, that the jantleman may benefit by the reward: I expect he'll make me a compliment."

"Get up behind, and I'll give you a lift," said the postilion.

"Thank you kindly--but better my legs!" said the man; and, turning down a lane, off he ran again, as fast as possible.

"Expect he'll make me a compliment," repeated Lord Colambre, "to make a discovery!"

"Ay, plase your honour; for the law is," said Larry, "that, if an unlawful still, that is, a still without licence for whiskey, is found, half the benefit of the fine that's put upon the parish goes to him that made the discovery: that's what that man is after; for he's an informer."

"I should not have thought, from what I see of you," said Lord Colambre, smiling, "that you, Larry, would have offered an informer a lift."

"Oh, plase your honour!" said Larry, smiling archly, "would not I give the laws a lift, when in my power?"

Scarcely had he uttered these words, and scarcely was the informer out of sight, when, across the same bog, and over the ditch, came another man, a half kind of gentleman, with a red silk handkerchief about his neck, and a silver-handled whip in his hand.

"Did you see any man pa.s.s the road, friend?" said he to the postilion.

"Oh! who would I see? or why would I tell?" replied Larry in a sulky tone.

"Come, come, be smart!" said the man with the silver whip, offering to put half-a-crown into the postilion's hand; "point me which way he took."

"I'll have none o' your silver! don't touch me with it!" said Larry.

"But, if you'll take my advice, you'll strike across back, and follow the fields, out to Killogenesawce."

The exciseman set out again immediately, in an opposite direction to that which the man who carried the still had taken. Lord Colambre now perceived that the pretended informer had been running off to conceal a still of his own.

"The gauger, plase your honour," said Larry, looking back at Lord Colambre; "the gauger is a _still-hunting_!"

"And you put him on a wrong scent!" said Lord Colambre.

"Sure, I told him no lie: I only said, 'If you'll take my advice.' And why was he such a fool as to take my advice, when I wouldn't take his fee?"