which he had been seated, exclaimed--

'We're come to the bad step, now. The bad road's beginning upon us,
please your honour.'

'Bad road! that is very uncommon in this country. I never saw such fine
roads as you have in Ireland.'

'That's true; and God bless your honour, that's sensible of that same,
for it's not what all the foreign quality I drive have the manners to
notice. God bless your honour! I heard you're a Welshman, but whether or
no, I am sure you are a gentleman, anyway, Welsh or other.'

Notwithstanding the shabby greatcoat, the shrewd postillion perceived,
by our hero's language, that he was a gentleman. After much dragging at
the horses' heads, and pushing and lifting, the carriage was got over
what the postillion said was the worst part of THE BAD STEP; but as
the road 'was not yet to say good,' he continued walking beside the
carriage.

'It's only bad just hereabouts, and that by accident,' said he, 'on
account of there being no jantleman resident in it, nor near; but only
a bit of an under-agent, a great little rogue, who gets his own turn out
of the roads, and of everything else in life. I, Larry Brady, that
am telling your honour, have a good right to know, for myself, and my
father, and my brother. Pat Brady, the wheelwright, had once a farm
under him; but was ruined, horse and foot, all along with him, and cast
out, and my brother forced to fly the country, and is now working in
some coachmaker's yard, in London; banished he is!--and here am I,
forced to be what I am--and now that I'm reduced to drive a hack, the
agent's a curse to me still, with these bad roads, killing my horses and
wheels and a shame to the country, which I think more of--Bad luck to
him!'

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

'Oh, God 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 passed 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 th