mouth in melting appreciation of the sanctity of her party cause and her own enviable destiny as the wife of an American Congressman.  She held in one hand a flag which she waved from time to time at the conspicuous features of the procession, and she stationed herself so that the Bengal lights and other fireworks set off by Mr. Parsons’s hired man should throw her figure into conspicuous relief.  The culminating interest of the, occasion for her was reached when the James O. Lyons Cadets, the special body of youthful torch-bearers devoted to advertising the merits of her lover, for whose uniforms and accoutrements he had paid, came in sight.

They proved to be the most flourishing looking organization in line.  They were preceded by a large, nattily attired drum corps; their ranks were full, their torches lustrous, and they bore a number of transparencies setting forth the predominant qualifications of the candidate for Congress from the second district, the largest of which presented his portrait superscribed with the sentiment, “A vote for James O. Lyons is a vote in support of the liberties of the plain people.”  On the opposite end of the canvas was the picture of the king of beasts, with open jaws and bristling mane, with the motto, “Our Lyons’s might will keep our institutions sacred.”  In the midst of this glittering escort the candidate himself rode in an open barouche on his way to the hall where he was to deliver a final speech.  He was bowing to right and left, and constant cheers marked his progress along the avenue.  Selma leaned forward from the balcony to obtain the earliest sight of her hero.  The rolling applause was a new, intoxicating music in her ears, and filled her soul with transport.  She clapped her hands vehemently; seized a roman-candle, and amid a blaze of fiery sparks exploded its colored stars in the direction of the approaching carriage.  Then with the flag slanted across her bosom, she stood waiting for his recognition.  It was made solemnly, but with the unequivocal demonstration of a cavalier or knight of old, for Lyons stood up, and doffing his hat toward her, made a conspicuous salute.  A salvo of applause suggested to Selma that the multitude had understood that he was according to her the homage due a lady-love, and that their cheers were partly meant for her.  She put her hand to her bosom with the gesture of a queen of melodrama, and culling one from a bunch of roses Lyons had sent her that afternoon threw it from the balcony at the carriage.  The flower fell almost into the lap of her lover, who clutched it, pressed it to his lips, and doffed his hat again.  The episode had been visible to many, and a hoarse murmur of interested approval crowned the performance.  The glance of the crowds on the sidewalk was turned upward, and someone proposed three cheers for the lady in the balcony.  They were given.  Selma bowed to either side in delighted acknowledgment, while the torches of the cadets waved tumultuously, and there was a fresh outburst of colored fires.