“From the time they began to come that morning, you may be sartain that the glass was no cripple, any how—­although, for fear of accidents, we took care not to go too deep.  At eight o’clock we sat down to a rousing breakfast, for we thought it best to eat a trifle at home, lest they might think that what we were to get at the bride’s breakfast might be thought any novelty.  As for my part, I was in such a state, that I couldn’t let a morsel cross my throat, nor did I know what end of me was uppermost.  After breakfast they all got their cattle, and I my hat and whip, and was ready to mount, when my uncle whispered to me that I must kneel down and ax my father and mother’s blessing, and forgiveness for all my disobedience and offinces towards them—­and also to requist the blessing of my brothers and sisters.  Well, in a short time I was down; and my goodness! such a hullabaloo of crying as there was in a minute’s time!  ‘Oh, Shane Fadh—­Shane Fadh, acushla machree!’ says my poor mother in Irish, ’you’re going to break up the ring about your father’s hearth and mine—­going to lave us, avourneen, for ever, and we to hear your light foot and sweet voice, morning, noon, and night, no more!  Oh!’ says she, ’it’s you that was the good son all out; and the good brother, too:  kind and cheerful was your voice, and full of love and affection was your heart!  Shane, avourneen dheelish, if ever I was harsh to you, forgive your poor mother, that will never see you more on her flure as one of her own family.’

“Even my father, that wasn’t much given to crying’, couldn’t speak, but went over to a corner and cried till the neighbors stopped him.  As for my brothers and sisters, they were all in an uproar; and I myself cried like a Trojan, merely bekase I see them at it.  My father and mother both kissed me, and gave me their blessing; and my brothers and sisters did the same, while you’d think all their hearts would break.  ‘Come, come,’ says my uncle, ’I’ll have none of this:  what a hubbub you make, and your son going to be well married—­going to be joined to a girl that your betters would be proud to get into connection with.  You should have more sense, Rose Campbell—­you ought to thank God that he had the luck to come acrass such a colleen for a wife; and that it’s not going to his grave, instead of into the arms of a purty girl—­and what’s better, a good girl.  So quit your blubbering, Rose; and you, Jack,’ says he to my father, ’that ought to have more sense, stop this instant.  Clear off, every one of you, out of this, and let the young boy go to his horse.  Clear out, I say, or by the powers I’ll—­look at them three stags of huzzies; by the hand of my body they’re blubbering bekase it’s not their own story this blessed day.  Move—­bounce!—­and you, Rose Oge, if you’re not behind Dudley Pulton in less than no time, by the hole of my coat, I’ll marry a wife myself, and then where will the twenty guineas be that I’m to lave you?’

“God rest his soul, and yet there was a tear in his eye all the while—­even in spite of his joking!