rior to O'Donoghue's or mine. Lalage, so I heard
afterward, spent an hour and a half denouncing us and devoted about
two-thirds of the time to Vittie. His aunts must have had a trying
time with him that night unless McMeekin came to their rescue with an
unusually powerful sleeping draught.

What Lalage said did not keep me awake; but the immediate results of her
meeting broke in upon a sleep which I needed very badly. My nurse left
me for the night and I dropped off into a pleasant doze. I dreamed, I
recollect, that the Archdeacon was bringing me bottles of whiskey in
Titherington's bag and that Hilda was standing beside me with the key. I
was roused, just as I was about to open the bag, by a terrific noise
of bands in the streets. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and even during
elections, bands at that hour are unusual. Besides, the bands which I
heard were playing more confusedly than even the most excited bands do.
It occurred to me that there might possibly be a riot going on and that
the musicians were urging forward the combatants. I crawled out of bed
and stumbled across the room. I was just in time to see a torchlight
procession passing my hotel. The night was windy and the torches flared
most successfully, giving quite enough light to make everything plainly
visible.

At the head of the procession were two bands a good deal mixed up
together. I at once recognized the uniform of the Loyal True Blue Fife
and Drums, whose members were my supporters to a man, and who possess
many more drums than fifes. The bright-green peaked caps of the other
players told me that they were the Wolfe Tone Invincible Brass Band.
It usually played tunes favourable to O'Donoghue. Vittie did not own
a band. If his supporters had been musical, and if there had been any
tunes in the world which expressed their political convictions, there
would, no doubt, have been three bands in the procession. The True Blues
and the Wolfe Tones were, when they passed me, playing different tunes.
In every other respect the utmost harmony prevailed between them. The
chief drummer of the True Blues and the cornet player of the Wolfe
Tones stopped just under my windows to exchange instruments, an act of
courtesy which must be unparalleled in Irish history. I was not able
to hear distinctly what sort of attempt my supporter made at the cornet
part of "God Save Ireland." But O'Donoghue's friend beat time to
"The Protestant Boys" on the drum with an accuracy q