an Irish
festival of the eighteenth century; and some such memory will long
cling to many a family or historic banquet, which--like the tragic one
depicted in "Macbeth," where the ghost of the murdered Banquo makes
its uncanny appearance, or that remarkable feast described by Lord
Lytton, where Zanoni drinks with impunity the poisoned cup, remarking
to the Prince, "I pledge you even in this wine"--has been the scene of
some unusual, or extraordinary occurrence.

At one time or another, the wedding feast has witnessed many a strange
and truly romantic occurrence, in some instances the result of
unrequited love, or faithless pledges, as happened at the marriage
feast of the second Viscount Cullen. At the early age of sixteen he
had been betrothed to Elizabeth Trentham, a great heiress; but in the
course of his travels abroad he formed a strong attachment to an
Italian lady of rank, whom he afterwards deserted for his first
betrothed. In due time arrangements were made for their marriage; but
on the eventful day, while the wedding party were feasting in the
great hall at Rushton, a strange carriage, drawn by six horses, drew
up, and forth stepped a dark lady, who, at once entering the hall and,
seizing a goblet--"to punish his falsehood and pride"--to the
astonishment of all present, drank perdition to the bridegroom, and,
having uttered a curse upon his bride, to the effect that she would
live in wretchedness and die in want, promptly disappeared to be
traced no further.

No small consternation was caused by this unlooked-for _contretemps_;
but the young Viscount made light of it to his fair bride, dispelling
her alarm by explanations which satisfied her natural curiosity. But,
it is said, in after days, this unpleasant episode created an
unfavourable impression in her mind, and at times made her give way to
feelings of a despondent character. As events turned out, the curse of
her marriage day was in a great measure fulfilled. It is true she
became a prominent beauty of the Court of Charles II., and was painted
with less than his usual amount of drapery by Sir Peter Lely. It is
recorded also, that she twice gave an asylum to Monmouth, in the room
at Rushton, still known as the "Duke's Room"; but, living unhappily
with her husband, she died, notwithstanding her enormous fortune, in
comparative penury, at Kettering, at a great age, as recently as the
year 1713.

A curious tale of love and deception is told of Bulgaden