We were running along at a fair gait--Ruth says racing!--when suddenly, at a turn in the road I found myself under the feet of a team of horses, which loomed up like elephants. It was too late to turn, so I acted automatically, certainly without conscious volition, and threw the car into a hedge. It was a stout one, and the car rose like a hunter and came to rest on the top, which held it! No, this is not an "Irish" story, only a story of Ireland. A gentleman was walking across the field and ran to our assistance. Gallant Irishman that he was he asked no questions, but assisted Ruth to descend. She was deathly pale, but, I am proud to say, neither screamed nor indeed spoke. Some laborers gathered and helped to drag the car back onto the road, none the worse, so far as I could see, for its strange adventure, save for a few scratches. I now turned my attention to the driver of the cart, who all this time had remained upon his high perch, gazing at our efforts like a god upon Olympus, "careless of mankind." "My friend," I began, in as quiet a voice as I could control, "that came near being a nasty accident." "It did that, your honor." "You came near having both those horses killed." "That would have cost your honor a pretty penny, for the likes of them can't be found in the county. Sure the gentleman standin' there will tell you they took the first prize at Dublin not a year ago." "Well, you are pretty cool about it. The lady might have been killed, too." "That would have been a pity, for it's a sweet face she has. I was wondering she'd risk her life with you." "Risk her life with me! Why, you impudent fellow," I cried, being by this time thoroughly angry, "the fault was all yours. You were on the wrong side of the road." "Well, as for that, your honor," replied this incorrigible fellow, "this road's that narrer, _it ain't properly got two sides_!" I could think of nothing better to say than that I would report him to the police in the next town, and took the name of the owner of the cart, which was painted in large letters on the side. I did stop and report the matter to a policeman who was directing the traffic in a town near by. He was sympathetic, and said: "I know that man well, and the next time he comes to market, I will _represent him to himself_!" This was all the satisfaction I got. Indeed, I suspect it is as much as could be expected in Ireland. After all, it was worth something to increase one's stock of phrases. To represent a man to himself is no small feat!