had in my Pocket charged without a bullet; I drew it, presented, and pretended I would fire if they desisted not; for these stupid fellows apprehended not the danger: perceiving how stupidly senseless they were, I fir’d it full in the face of him that fronted me, who verily believ’d he had been shot, & so out of conceit (for they are naturally very timerous) fell down as dead; the other seeing that, ran away as swift as lightning, whereby I had leave to ride on, which I did (you may think) with no ordinary speed. Lovers may talk of their sufferings by their Mistress frowns, or obdurateness, but let any one judge of mine by the blows I received; sighing is nothing to fighting, and a few tears are not to come in competition with dry basting. Pox on them they made me out of conceit with love for six weeks after. I never thought of enjoying a woman since, but the remembrance of those three Bog-trotters converted the hot fit of my amorous Fever into a cold one. A little way from _Baltinglass_ I took up my quarters for that night. The Inn I lay in was one story high, about the height of an extraordinary Pigsty, and there was one Chimney in it too, more then there is to be found in one of an 100 such Hovils. The good man welcom’d me after his fashion, but I think an _Anthropophagus_ or _Indian_ Man-eater would have done it as civily. I bid him set up my Horse by signs, (for that was the language we converst in) but alass there was no other Stable but what was at the end of our Kitchin; our Dining-room, Bed-chamber, Pigsty, Pantry and Buttery, being all one, without distinction or separation. Some few Wattles (as they call them) were placed above, that was our Hay-loft. The onely door of our Inn was a large hurdle, much like a sheep-pen. The _Bannettee_ or good wife of the house, could speak a little broken _English_. I askt her what I should have for Supper? _Thou shalt have a Supper said she for St. _Patrick_ a gra._ I staid an half hour expecting when she would lay down something to the fire, but instead thereof she brings me in a Wooden Platter a great many Leeks, in the bottom whereof was a good quantity of Bay-salt, and withal a loaf as black as if the Meal had been wetted with Ink. _Seest tou tere, Chreest himself nor St. _Patrick_ did ever eat better ting._ I could not forbear smiling, which put her into a great passion: For if a man eats not what they set before him, they think themselves highly affronted. Because I would please them (not knowing but that I might find as bad sawce here) I pretended to eat, conveying it into my Boots. After supper I askt them for a clean Pipe; the woman brought me one about an inch long, telling me it was very clean, for her Husband had not smoakt in it above ten times. I judged it to be the ruines of the first Pipe that was made, which was conveyed from one of that family to another, conditionally they should constantly smoke in it without burning it.