t, his spirit broke, and he entered his father's
house pallid, trembling, his eyes suffused with bitter tears.

CHAPTER XX.

THE DEMONSTRATION.

And thus it came to pass that the chief characters of this story found
themselves in Ballybay again on its closing day, on exactly the same
spot as they were on the day when it opened.

The Land League demonstration was not prepared with any particular care
or organization, the Irish people being still, even in the matter of
political demonstration, in a state of childish immaturity. It turned
out to be better so, for the spontaneous inventiveness of the moment
suggested a programme far more dramatic and picturesque than could have
occurred to the mind of the most ingenious political stage-manager. The
platform had been erected on the spot where the cabin had stood which
the son of the Gombeen man had overthrown so many years ago. The field
now was laid in grass, which, before the demonstration waved long and
green; but as the hours went on and the thousands of feet passed over
it, the grass was all crushed and torn. There were half a dozen
bands--two of them dressed in the showy uniform which descends from the
pictures of Robert Emmet in the dock--and they played continuously and
for the most part discordantly. There were also many banners, there was
a long procession of men on horseback, and the heads of the horses were
covered with green boughs. Green, indeed, was everywhere; there were
green banners, green scarves, green neck-ties, and the greater part of
the men displayed the green ticket of the Tenant League in their hats.
The air of the crowd was in no way serious, the whole affair was rather
like a _fete_ than a grave political demonstration. The multitudes, too,
had the absence of self-control which characterizes popular
demonstrations; their feelings seemed to express themselves without
thought or premeditation, speech overflowed rather than fell from their
lips. The result was that the cheering was continuous; now it was the
arrival of a band; then the erect walk of a sturdy contingent from a
distant point; sometimes it was simply the exchange of a look, that,
though mute, spoke volumes, between the people in the procession and
those on the sidepaths, that brought forth a wild cheer, in short the
temper of the crowd was bright and electrical--the mood for unusual
ideas and passionate scenes.

The good humor was hearty rather than inventive or articulate,