"He's a very arch donkey for a lady to be dhrivin', and mebbe he'd lay down and not get up for you." "Arrah! shut yer mouth, Pether.

Give him a couple of belts anondher the hind leg, melady, and that'll put the fear o' God in him!" said Dinnis.
"I'd rather not go at all," urged Salemina timidly; "it's too late, and too extraordinary." "I'm not going to have it on my conscience to make you lose this dinner-party,--not if I have to carry you on my back the whole way," said Benella doggedly; "and this donkey won't lay down with me more'n once,--I can tell him that right at the start." "Sure, melady, he'll go to Galway for you, when oncet he's started wid himself; and it's only a couple o' fingers to the Castle, annyways." The four-mile drive, especially through the village of Ballyfuchsia, was an eventful one, but by dint of prodding, poking, and belting, Benella had accomplished half the distance in three-quarters of an hour, when the donkey suddenly lay down 'on her,' according to Peter's prediction.
This was luckily at the town cross, where a group of idlers rendered hearty assistance.

Willing as they were to succour a lady in disthress, they did not know of any car which could be secured in time to be of service, but one of them offered to walk and run by the side of the donkey, so as to kape him on his legs.

It was in this wise that Miss Peabody approached Balkilly Castle; and when a gilded gentleman-in-waiting lifted her from Rooney's 'plain cart,' she was just on the verge of hysterics.

Fortunately his Magnificence was English, and betrayed no surprise at the arrival in this humble fashion of a dinner guest, but simply summoned the Irish housekeeper, who revived her with wine, and called on all the saints to witness that she'd never heard of such a shameful thing, and such a disgrace to Ballyfuchsia.