eep, rain-flooded asphalte, they narrowly escaped an
accident. The coachman, however, steadied his horses, and soon the long
colonnades of the Bank of Ireland were seen on the left. From this point
they were no longer alone, and except when a crash of thunder drowned
every other sound, the rattling of wheels was heard behind and in front
of them. Carriages came from every side: the night was alive with
flashing lamps; a glimpse of white fur or silk, the red breast of a
uniform, the gold of an epaulette, were seen, and thinking of the block
that would take place on the quays, the coachmen whipped up their
horses; but soon the ordering voices of the mantled and mounted
policemen were heard, and the carriages came to a full stop.

'We are very late; hundreds will pass before us,' said Mrs. Barton
despairingly, as she watched the lines of silk-laden carriages that
seemed to be passing them by. But it was difficult to make sure of
anything; and fearful of soiling their gloves, they refrained from
touching the breath-misted windows.

Despite the weather the streets were lined with vagrants, patriots,
waifs, idlers of all sorts and kinds. Plenty of girls of sixteen and
eighteen came out to see the 'finery.' Poor little things in battered
bonnets and draggled skirts, who would dream upon ten shillings a week;
a drunken mother striving to hush a child that cries beneath a dripping
shawl; a harlot embittered by feelings of commercial resentment; troops
of labourers; hang-dog faces, thin coats, torn shirts; Irish-Americans,
sinister faced, and broad-brimmed. Never were poverty and wealth brought
into plainer proximity. In the broad glare of the carriage lights the
shape of every feature, even the colour of the eyes, every glance, every
detail of dress, every stain of misery were revealed to the silken
exquisites who, a little frightened, strove to hide themselves within
the scented shadows of their broughams; and in like manner the bloom on
every aristocratic cheek, the glitter of every diamond, the richness of
every plume, were visible to the wondering eyes of those who stood
without in the wet and the cold.

'I wish they wouldn't stare so,' said Mrs. Barton; 'one would think they
were a lot of hungry children looking into a sweetmeat shop. The police
ought really to prevent it.'

'And how wicked those men in the big hats look,' said Olive; 'I'm sure
they would rob us if they only dared.'

At last the order came that the car