ed young lady by the tips of
the fingers; but whether this damsel was intended to represent the genius
of the west, or my wife, I did not venture to inquire.

If the welcome were rude, assuredly it was a hearty one. Kind wishes and
blessings poured in on every side, and even our own happiness took a
brighter coloring from the beaming looks around us. The scene was wild;
the lurid glare of the red torchlight, the frantic gestures, the maddening
shouts, the forked flames rising amidst the dark shadows of the little
hamlet, had something strange and almost unearthly in their effect; but
Lucy showed no touch of fear. It is true she grasped my hand a little
closer, but her fair cheek glowed with pleasure, and her eye brightened as
she looked; and as the rich light fell upon her beauteous features, how
many a blessing, heart-felt and deep, how many a word of fervent praise was
spoken.

"Ah, then, the Lord be good to you; it's yourself has the darling blue
eyes! Look at them, Mary; ain't they like the blossoms on a peacock's tail?
Musha, may sorrow never put a crease in that beautiful cheek! The saints
watch over you, for your mouth is like a moss-rose! Be good to her, yer
honor, for she's a raal gem: devil fear you, Mr. Charles, but you'd have a
beauty!"

We wended our way slowly, the crowd ever thickening around us, until we
reached the market-place. Here the procession came to a stand, and I could
perceive, by certain efforts around me, that some endeavor was making to
enforce silence.

"Whisht, there! Hould your prate! Be still, Paddy! Tear an' ages, Molly
Blake, don't be holding me that way; let us hear his reverence. Put him up
on the barrel. Haven't you got a chair for the priest? Run, and bring a
table out of Mat Haley's. Here, Father--here, your reverence; take care,
will you,--you'll have the holy man in the blaze!"

By this time I could perceive that my worthy old friend Father Rush was in
the midst of the mob with what appeared to be a written oration, as long as
the tail of a kite, between his hands.

"Be aisy, there, ye savages! Who's tearing the back of my neck? Howld me up
straight! Steady, now--hem!"

"Take the laste taste in life to wet your lips, your riverence," said a
kind voice, while at the same moment a smoking tumbler of what seemed to be
punch appeared on the heads of the crowd.

"Thank ye, Judy," said the father, as he drained the cup. "Howld the light
up higher; I can't read my speech. Ther