the neighboring gentry, made his appearance, preceded by the flag.  From another point, the faction of Lamb Laudher fluttering in blood-red ribbons, marched at a solemn pace towards the church-yard.  On arriving opposite his aunt’s, his mother wept aloud, and with one voice all the females who accompanied her, raised the Irish funeral cry.  In this manner, surrounded by all the solemn emblems of death, where none was dead, they slowly advanced until they reached the platform.  The Dead Boxer, attended by his own servant, as second, now ascended the stage, where he stood for a few minutes, until his repeater struck twelve.  That moment he began to strip, which having done, he advanced to the middle of the stage, and in a deep voice required the authorities of the town to produce their champion.  To this no answer was returned, for not a man of them could account for the disappearance of Lamh Laudher.  A wavy motion, such as passes over the forest top under a low blast, stirred the whole multitude; this was the result of many feelings, but that which prevailed amongst them was disappointment.  A second time the Dead Boxer repeated the words, but except the stir and hum which we have described, there was not a voice heard in reply.  Lamh Laudher’s very friends felt mortified, and the decaying spirit of Lamh Laudher More rallied for a moment.  His voice alone was heard above the dead silence,—­

“He will come, back,” said he, “my son will come; and I would now rather see him dead than that he should fear to be a man.”

He had scarcely spoken, when a loud cheer, which came rapidly onward, was heard outside the church-yard.  A motion and a violent thrusting aside, accompanied by a second shout, “he’s here!” gave intimation of his approach.  In about a minute, to the manifest delight of all present, young Lamh Laudher, besmeared with blood, leaped upon the platform.  He looked gratefully at the crowd, and in order to prevent perplexing inquiries, simply said—­

“Don’t be alarmed—­I had a slight accident, but I’m not the worse of it.”

The cheers of the multitude were now enough to awaken the dead beneath them; and when they had ceased, his father cried out—­

“God support you, boy—­you’re my true son; an’ I know you’ll show them what the Lamh Laudher blood an’ the Lamh Laudher blow is.”

The young man looked about him for a moment, and appeared perplexed.

“I’m here alone,” said he; “is there any among you that will second me?”

Hundreds immediately volunteered this office; but there was one who immediately sprung upon the stage, to the no small surprise of all present—­it was Meehaul Neil.  He approached Lamh Laudher and extended his hand, which was received with cordiality.

“Meehaul,” said O’Rorke, “I thank you for this.”

“Do not,” replied the other; “no man has such a right to stand by you now as I have.  I never knew till this mornin’ why you did not strike me the last night we met.”