as Rathfillan, the notion of one had never entered their heads.  All around the country, however, even for many miles, the bonfires were blazing, and shone at immense distances from every hill-top.  We have said before that Lindsay was both a popular landlord and a popular magistrate; and, on this account alone the disposition to do honor to any member of his family was recognized by the people as an act of gratitude and duty.

The town of Rathfillan presented a scene of which we who live in the present day can form but a faint conception.  Yet, sooth to say, we ourselves have, about forty years ago, witnessed in remote glens and mountain fastnesses little clumps of cabins, whose inhabitants stood still in the midst even of the snail’s progress which civilization had made in the rustic parts of Ireland; and who, upon examination, presented almost the same rude personal habits, antiquated social usages, agricultural ignorance, and ineradicable superstition as their ancestors did in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.  Lindsay, knowing how unpopular his wife was, not only among their own tenantry, but throughout the country at large, and feeling, besides, how well that unpopularity was merited, very properly left her and Maria to his son Charles, knowing that as the two last named shared in the good-will which the people bore him, their mother would be treated with forbearance and respect so long as she was in their company.  He wished, besides, that Harry should seem to partake of the honor and gratitude which their enthusiasm would prompt them to pay to himself.

The whole town was one scene of life, bustle, and enjoyment.  It was studded with bonfires, which were surrounded by wild groups of both sexes, some tolerably dressed, some ragged as Lazarus, and others young urchins with nothing but a slip of rag tied about their loins “to make them look jinteel and daicent.”  The monster bonfire, however—­that which was piled up into an immense pyramid in honor of the stranger—­was not ignited until the arrival of the quality.  The moment the latter made their appearance it was set in a flame, and in a few minutes a blaze issued up from it into the air that not only dimmed the minor exhibitions, but cast its huge glare over the whole town, making every house and hut as distinctly visible as if it were broad daylight.  Then commenced the huzzaing—­the bells rang out with double energy—­the drums were beaten more furiously—­the large bullocks’ horns were sounded until those who blew them were black in the face, and every manifestation of joy that could be made was resorted to.  Fiddles and pipes were in busy requisition, and “The Boys of Rathfillan,” the favorite local air, resounded in every direction.  And now that the master and the quality had made their appearance, of course the drink should soon follow, and in a short time the hints to that effect began to thicken.

“Thunder and turf, Jemmy, but this is dry work; my throat’s like a lime-burner’s wig for want of a drop o’ something to help me for the cheerin’.”