anc-manger_ standing--but to sit down with
well-prepared appetite to hot joints--ham and chicken, veal pies,
potatoes, and bottled porter. And then the songs that were sung!
It would have done your heart good to hear young Fitzpatrick sing
the "Widow Machree;" and then all the punch that was mixed! and the
eloquence that was used, not in vain, to induce the fairer portion of
the company to taste it!

This state of things was not, however, allowed to remain long. It
was not at all the thing that men--at any rate unmarried men--should
waste their time in drinking when they had come there to dance; and
after the ladies had left them about ten minutes, messages came hot
and thick from the ball-room, desiring their immediate presence;
nor were they so bold as to neglect these summonses, excepting some
few inveterate sinners, who, having whiskey and hot water in their
possession, and looking forward to a game at loo, neglected the
commands which were brought to them.

Soon again the fiddles sounded, and quick feet flew round the floor
with more rapidity than before. The tedium of the quadrille was found
to be too slow, and from three till six a succession of waltzes,
reels, and country dances, kept the room in one whirl of confusion,
and at last sent the performers home, not from a feeling of satiety
at the amusement, but because, from very weariness, they were no
longer able to use their feet.

Feemy, early in the evening, had danced with Ussher, and received his
final instructions respecting their departure on the morrow. He was
to leave Brown Hall early for Mohill, and Fred's gig and horse were
to be sent over to him there. He was to send his heavy luggage on by
the car, and leaving Mohill about seven, when it would be dusk, drive
by the avenue at Ballycloran and pick Feemy up as he passed, and
they would then reach Longford in time for the mail-coach during the
night.

Ussher calculated that Feemy would not be missed till he had had
two hours' start, and that then it would be impossible to catch him
before he reached Dublin.

"But, Myles," said Feemy, "how am I to get home? You know I am at
Mrs. McKeon's now."

"Why how helpless you are," replied he; "can't you easily make some
excuse to get home? say you are ill--and sick--and want to be at
home. Or if it must come to that, say you will go home; who's to stop
you?"

"But I wouldn't like to quarrel with them, Myles; just now, too, when
they've been so kind to m