“Any how, it’s easy knowing that there wasn’t sorrow at the bottom of their grief:  for they were all now laughing at my uncle’s jokes, even while their eyes were red with the tears:  my mother herself couldn’t but be in a good humor, and join her smile with the rest.

“My uncle now drove us all out before him; not, however, till my mother had sprinkled a drop of holy water on each of us, and given me and my brothers and sisters a small taste of blessed candle, to prevent us from sudden death and accidents.* My father and she didn’t come with as then, but they went over to the bride’s while we were all gone to the priest’s house.  At last we set off in great style and spirits—­I well mounted on a good horse of my own, and my brother (On one that he had borrowed from Peter Dannellon), fully bent on winning the bottle.  I would have borrowed him myself, but I thought it dacenter to ride my own horse manfully, even though he never won a side of mutton or a saddle, like Dannellon’s.  But the man that was most likely to come in for the bottle was little Billy Cormick, the tailor, who rode a blood-racer that young-John Little had wickedly lent him for the special purpose; he was a tall bay animal, with long small legs, a switch tail, and didn’t know how to trot.  Maybe we didn’t cut a dash—­and might have taken a town before us.  Out we set about nine o’clock, and went acrass the country:  but I’ll not stop to mintion what happened some of them, even before we got to the bride’s house.  It’s enough to say here, that sometimes one in crassing a stile or ditch would drop into the shough;** sometimes another would find himself head foremost on the ground; a woman would be capsized here in crassing a ridgy field, bringing her fore-rider to the ground along with her; another would be hanging like a broken arch, ready to come down, till some one would ride up and fix her on the seat.  But as all this happened in going over the fields, we expected that when we’d get out on the king’s highway there would be less danger, as we would have no ditches or drains to crass.  When we came in sight of the house, there was a general shout of welcome from the bride’s party, who were on the watch for us:  we couldn’t do less nor give them back the chorus; but we had better have let that alone, for some of the young horses took the stadh,*** others of them capered about; the asses—­the sorra choke them—­that were along with us should begin to bray, as if it was the king’s birthday—­and a mule of Jack Urwin’s took it into his head to stand stock still.  This brought another dozen of them to the ground; so that, between one thing or another, we were near half an hour before we got on the march again.  When the blood-horse that the tailor rode saw the crowd and heard the shouting, he cocked his ears, and set off with himself full speed; but before he had got far he was without a rider, and went galloping up to the bride’s house, the bridle hangin’ about his feet.  Billy, however, having taken a glass or two, wasn’t to be cowed:  so he came up in great blood, and swore he would ride him to America, sooner than let the bottle be won from the bridegroom’s party.