ned the discontinuance of a
ceremony which was only productive of evil. To this day, it is an
opinion among the peasantry in many parts of Ireland, that there is
something unfortunate connected with all drinking bouts held upon
Christmas Eve. Such a prejudice naturally arises from a recollection
of the calamities which so frequently befell many individuals while
Midnight Masses were in the habit of being generally celebrated,
although it is not attributed to their existence.

None of Frank M'Kenna's family attended mass but himself and his wife.
His children having been bound by all the rules of courtesy to do the
honors of the dance, could not absent themselves from it; nor, indeed,
were they disposed to do so. Frank, however, and his "good woman,"
carried their torches, and joined the crowds which flocked to this scene
of fun and devotion.

When they had arrived at the cross-roads beside which the chapel was
situated, the first object that presented itself so prominently as to
attract observation was Darby More, dressed out in all his paraphernalia
of blanket and horn, in addition to which he held in his hand an immense
torch, formed into the figure of a cross. He was seated upon a stone,
surrounded by a ring of old men and women, to whom he sang and sold a
variety of Christmas Carols, many of them rare curiosities in their way,
inasmuch as they were his own composition. A littlee beyond them stood
Mike Keillaghan and Peggy Gartland, towards both of whom he cast from
time to time a glance of latent humor and triumph. He did not simply
confine himself to singing his carols, but, during the pauses of the
melody, addressed the wondering and attentive crowd as follows:--

"Good Christians--This is the day--howandiver, it's night now, Glory
be to God--that the angel Lucifer appeared to Shud'orth, Meeshach, an'
To-bed-we-go, in the village of Constantinople, near Jerooslem. The
heavens be praised for it, 'twas a blessed an' holy night, an' remains
so from that day to this--Oxis doxis glorioxis, Amin! Well, the sarra
one of him but appeared to thim at the hour o' midnight, but they were
asleep at the time, you see, and didn't persave him go--wid that he
pulled out a horn like mine--an', by the same token, it's lucky to wear
horns about one from that day to this--an' he put it to his lips, an'
tuck a good dacent--I mane, gave a good dacent blast that soon
roused them. 'Are yez asleep?' says he, when they awoke: 'why then,