e postillion, 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 linch-pin out of the
hedge, for this one won't go far.'

Whilst Larry was making the linch-pin, 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, Saturday night, before the assizes, sure; so we must see
and get it finished anyway, 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 Colambre.

'The RAEL saint!' said the postillion, 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 postillion, 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 is a sinner. He lives just by
here, in the country, under-agent to Lord Clonbrony, as old Nick is
upper-agent--it's onl