revent my feeling a kind of tingling shame
as I took my place beside Father Tom Loftus in his gig. Early as it was,
there were still some people about; and I cast a hurried glance around
to see if our equipage was not as much a matter of amusement to them as
of affliction to me.

When Father Tom first spoke of his 'dennet,' I innocently pictured to
myself something resembling the indigenous productions of Loughrea.
'A little heavy or so,' thought I; 'strong for country roads; mayhap
somewhat clumsy in the springs, and not over-refined about the shafts.'
Heaven help my ignorance! I never fancied a vehicle whose component
parts were two stout poles, surmounting a pair of low wheels, high above
which was suspended, on two lofty C springs, the body of an ancient
buggy--the lining of a bright scarlet, a little faded and dimmed
by time, bordered by a lace of the most gaudy pattern; a flaming
coat-of-arms, with splendid blazonry and magnificent quarterings,
ornamented each panel of this strange-looking tub, into which, for
default of steps, you mounted by a ladder.

'Eh, father,' said I, 'what have we here? This is surely not the----'

'Ay, Captain,' said the good priest, as a smile of proud satisfaction
curled his lip, 'that's "the convaniency"; and a pleasanter and an
easier never did man sit in. A little heavy, to be sure; but then one
can always walk up the hills; and if they're very stiff ones entirely,
why it's only throwing out the ballast.'

'The ballast! What do you mean?'

'Just them,' said he, pointing with his whip to some three or four huge
pieces of limestone rock that lay in the bottom of the gig; 'there's
seven, maybe eight, stone weight, every pound of it.'

'And for heaven's sake,' said I, 'why do you carry that mass of rubbish
along with you?'

'I'll just tell you then. The road has holes in it you could bury your
father in; and when the convaniency gets into one of them, she has a way
of springing up into the air, that, if you 're not watching, is sure
to pitch you out--maybe into the bog at the side, maybe on the beast's
back. I was once actually thrown into a public-house window, where
there was a great deal of fun going on, and the bishop came by before
I extricated myself. I assure you I had hard work to explain it to his
satisfaction.' There was a lurking drollery in his eye, as he said
these last few words, that left me to the full as much puzzled about
the accident as his worthy diocesan. 'Bu