Some one told a story of a fellow who, on grumbling at the shilling gratuity at his journey's end, said, in a sly undertone,
"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.