ly Rooms of the capital city of
the Sister Island there was a public Ball, to celebrate the return
to Erin of a British hero of Irish blood, after his victorious Indian
campaign; a mighty struggle splendidly ended; and truly could it be said
that all Erin danced to meet him; but this was the pick of the dancing,
past dispute the pick of the supping. Outside those halls the supping
was done in Lazarus fashion, mainly through an excessive straining of
the organs of hearing and vision, which imparted the readiness for more,
declared by physicians to be the state inducing to sound digestion. Some
one spied the figure of the hero at the window and was fed; some only to
hear the tale chewed the cud of it; some told of having seen him mount
the steps; and sure it was that at an hour of the night, no matter when,
and never mind a drop or two of cloud, he would come down them again,
and have an Irish cheer to freshen his pillow. For 'tis Ireland gives
England her soldiers, her generals too. Farther away, over field and
bogland, the whiskies did their excellent ancient service of watering
the dry and drying the damp, to the toast of 'Lord Larrian, God bless
him! he's an honour to the old country!' and a bit of a sigh to follow,
hints of a story, and loud laughter, a drink, a deeper sigh, settling
into conversation upon the brave Lord Larrian's deeds, and an Irish
regiment he favoured--had no taste for the enemy without the backing of
his 'boys.' Not he. Why, he'd never march to battle and they not handy;
because when he struck he struck hard, he said. And he has a wound on
the right hip and two fingers off his left hand; has bled for England,
to show her what Irishmen are when they're well treated.

The fine old warrior standing at the upper end of the long saloon, tall,
straight, grey-haired, martial in his aspect and decorations, was worthy
to be the flag-pole for enthusiasm. His large grey eyes lightened from
time to time as he ranged them over the floating couples, and dropped a
word of inquiry to his aide, Captain Sir Lukin Dunstane, a good model of
a cavalry officer, though somewhat a giant, equally happy with his chief
in passing the troops of animated ladies under review. He named as
many as were known to him. Reviewing women exquisitely attired for
inspection, all variously and charmingly smiling, is a relief after the
monotonous regiments of men. Ireland had done her best to present the
hero of her blood an agreeable cha