fat, or so; but a good sowl, and a raal warrant for an Irish
stew.' 'And Mr. Ulick Burke, Joe, do you know him?' 'Is it blazing
Burke? Faix, I do know him! I was as near him as I am to you when he
shot Matt Callanan at the mills. "There, now," says he, when he put a
ball in his hip, and lamed him for life, "you were always fond of your
trade, and I'll make you a hopper." And sure enough, this is the way he
goes ever since.'

'He is a good horseman, they tell me, Joe?' 'The best in Ireland; for
following the dogs, flat race, or steeplechase, show me his equal. Och!
it's himself has the seat in a saddle. Mighty short he rides with his
knees up, this way, and his toes out. Not so purty to look at, till you
are used to it; but watch him fingering his baste--feeling his mouth
with the snaffle--never tormenting, but just letting him know who is on
his back. It 's raal pleasure to look at him; and then to see him taking
a little canter before he sets off, with his hand low, and just tickling
the flanks with his spurs, to larn the temper of the horse. May I never!
if it isn't a heavenly sight!' 'You like Mr. Burke, then, I see, Joe?'
'Like him! Who wouldn't like him a-horseback? Isn't he the moral of a
rider, that knows his baste better than I know my Hail Mary? But see
him afoot, he's the greatest divil from here to Croaghpatrick--nothing
civiller in his mouth than a curse and a "bloody end" to ye! Och! it's
himself hates the poor, and they hate him; the beggars run away from him
as if he was the police; and the blind man that sits on Banagher Bridge
takes up his bags, and runs for the bare life the minit he hears the
trot of his horse. Isn't it a wonder how he rides so bowld with all the
curses over him? Faix, myself wouldn't cross that little stream there,
if I was like him. Well, well, he'll have a hard reckoning at last. He's
killed five men already, and wounded a great many more; but they say
he won't be able to go on much further, for when he kills another the
divil's to come for him. The Lord be about us! by rason he never let's
any one kill more nor six.'

Thus chatting away, the road passed over; and as the sun was setting we
came in sight of the town, now not above a mile distant.

'That's Loughrea you see there--it's a mighty fine place,' said Joe.
'There's slate houses, and a market and a barrack; but you 'll stop a
few days in the town?'

'Oh, certainly; I wish to see this race.'

'That will be the fine race.