"Faith, it's not putting me off ye'd be if ye knew but all." The traveller's curiosity was excited. "What do you mean?" "Oh, faix! that ud be telling." Another shilling was tendered. "And now," asked the gentleman, "what do you mean by saying if ye knew but all?" "That I driv yer honour the last three miles without a linchpin!" "Will I pay the pike or drive at it, plase yer honour?" was the exclamation of a driver to his passenger as he suddenly drew up a few yards from the turnpike gate. When an Assistant Poor-Law Commissioner first visited Cork, the coach by which he arrived set him down next door to the "Imperial Hotel," his place of destination. Not being aware of this fact, he ordered a car and gave his direction to the driver. The fellow conducted him round the town and through the various streets and lanes, and, after an hour's driving, placed him at the hotel entrance, demanding and receiving a sum of five shillings, which his victim considered a reasonable charge. A few minutes afterwards he discovered the trick that had been played upon him. One of the richest characters of the class we encountered on the road from Ross to Wexford; he told us how he got his first situation. "The masther had two beautiful English horses, and he wanted a careful man to drive them; he was a mighty plisant gentleman, and loved a joke. Well, there was as many as fifteen after the place, and the first that wint up to him was examined as follows:-- "'Now, my man,' says he, 'tell me,' says he, 'how near the edge of a precipice would you undertake to drive my carriage?' "So the boy considered, and he says, says he, "'Within a foot, plaze your honour, and no harm.' "'Very well,' says he, 'go down, I'll give ye yer answer, by-and-by.' "So the next came up, and said he'd be bound to carry 'em within half a foot; and the next said five inches; and another--a dandified chap intirely--was so mighty nice that he would drive it within 'three inches and a half, he'd go bail.' "Well, at last my turn came, and when his honour axed me how nigh I would drive his carriage to a precipice, I said, says I, "'Plaze, yer honour, I'd keep as far off it as I could.' "'Very well, Misther Byrne,' says he, 'you're my coachman,' says he. "Och! the roar there was in the kitchen whin I wint down and tould the joke!" I heard a good story of the philanthropic Peabody, who, though princely in his liberality, did not like to be imposed upon. Upon one occasion he resisted an exorbitant demand, and only gave the car-driver his proper fare! "Bedad!" said the man; "they may call you Mr. Paybody, but I call you Mr. Paynobody." Another instance will suffice. As Sir Walter Scott was riding with a friend in the neighbourhood of Abbotsford, he came to a field-gate, which an Irish beggar, who happened to be near, hastened to open for him. Sir Walter was desirous of rewarding this civility by the present of sixpence, but found that he had not so small a coin in his purse.