sclosing in the act the ever-memorable features
of Master Frank Webber!

"What! Eh! Can it be?" said I.

"It is surely not--" said Lucy, hesitating at the name.

"Your aunt, Miss Judy Macan, no more than the Rev. Peter Nolan, I assure
you; though, I confess, it has cost me much more to personate the latter
character than the former, and the reward by no means so tempting."

Here poor Lucy blushed deeply at the remembrance of the scene alluded to;
and anxious to turn the conversation, I asked by what stratagem he had
succeeded to the functions of the worthy Peter.

"At the cost of twelve tumblers of the strongest punch ever brewed at the
O'Malley Arms. The good father gave in only ten minutes before the oration
began, and I had barely time to change my dress and mount the barrel,
without a moment's preparation."

The procession once more resumed its march; and hurried along through the
town, we soon reached the avenue. Here fresh preparations for welcoming us
had also been made; but regardless of blazing tar-barrels and burning logs,
the reckless crowd pressed madly on, their wild cheers waking the echoes as
they went. We soon reached the house; but with a courtesy which even
the humblest and poorest native of this country is never devoid of, the
preparations of noise and festivity had not extended to the precincts of
the dwelling. With a tact which those of higher birth and older blood might
be proud of, they limited the excesses of their reckless and careless
merriment to their own village; so that as we approached the terrace, all
was peaceful, still, and quiet.

I lifted Lucy from the carriage, and passing my arm around her, was
assisting her to mount the steps, when a bright gleam of moonlight burst
forth and lit up the whole scene. It was, indeed, an impressive one. Among
the assembled hundreds there who stood bare-headed, beneath the cold
moonlight, not a word was now spoken, not a whisper heard. I turned from
the lawn, where the tall beech-trees were throwing their gigantic shadows,
to where the river, peering at intervals through the foliage, was flowing
on its silvery track, plashing amidst the tall flaggers that lined its
banks,--all were familiar, all were dear to me from childhood. How doubly
were they so now! I lifted up my eyes towards the door, and what was my
surprise at the object before them! Seated in a large chair was an old man,
whose white hair, flowing in straggling masses upon his neck and