With this mixed confidence in a special providence, and in his own good luck, Paddy went on, much to my amusement. It was his glory to keep before us; and he rattled on till he came to a narrow part of the road, where they were rebuilding a bridge. Here there was a dead stop. Paddy lashed his horses, and called them all manner of names; but the wheel horse, Knockecroghery, was restive, and at last began to kick most furiously. It seemed inevitable that the first kick which should reach the splinter-bar, at which it was aimed, must demolish it instantly. My English gentleman and my Frenchman both put their heads out of the only window which was pervious, and called most manfully to be let out. “Never fear,” said Paddy. To open the door for themselves was beyond their force or skill. One of the hind wheels, which had belonged to another carriage, was too high to suffer the door to be opened, and the blind at the other side prevented their attempts, so they were close prisoners. The men who had been at work on the broken bridge came forward, and rested on their spades to see the battle. As my carriage could not pass, I was also compelled to be a spectator of this contest between man and horse. “Never fear,” reiterated Paddy; “I’ll engage I’ll be up wid him. Now for it, Knockecroghery! Oh, the rogue, he thinks he has me at a _nonplush_, but I’ll show him the _differ_.” After this brag of war, Paddy whipped, Knockecroghery kicked; and Paddy, seemingly unconscious of danger, sat within reach of the kicking horse, twitching up first one of his legs, then the other, and shifting as the animal aimed his hoofs, escaping every time as it were by miracle. With a mixture of temerity and presence of mind, which made us alternately look upon him as a madman and a hero, he gloried in the danger, secure of success, and of the sympathy of the spectators. “Ah! didn’t I _compass_ him cleverly then? Oh, the villain, to be browbating me! I’m too cute for him yet. See there, now, he’s come to; and I’ll be his bail he’ll go _asy_ enough wid me. Ogh! he has a fine spirit of his own, but it’s I that can match him: ‘twould be a poor case if a man like me cou’dn’t match a horse any way, let alone a mare, which this is, or it never would be so vicious.” After this hard-fought battle, and suitable rejoicing for the victory, Paddy walked his subdued adversary on a few yards to allow us to pass him; but, to the dismay of my postilions, a hay-rope was at this instant thrown across the road, before our horses, by the road-makers, who, to explain this proceeding, cried out, “Plase your honour, the road is so dry, we’d expect a trifle to wet it.” “What do these fellows mean?” said I. “It’s only a tester or a hog they want, your honour, to give ‘em to drink your honour’s health,” said Paddy. “A hog to drink my health?” “Ay, that is a thirteen, plase your honour; all as one as an English shilling.”