wide circuit of the country. With a wild luxury of triumph they seized
O'Rorke, placed him on their shoulders, and bore him in triumph through
every street in the town. All kinds of mad but good-humored excesses
were committed. The public houses were filled with those who had
witnessed the fight, songs were sung, healths were drank, and blows
given. The streets, during the remainder of the day, were paraded by
groups of his townsmen belonging to both factions, who on that occasion
buried their mutual animosity in exultation for his victory.

The worthy burghers of the corporation, who had been both frightened
and disgusted at the dark display made by the Dead Boxer previous to
the tight, put his body in the coffin that had been intended for Lamh
Laudher, and without any scruple, took it up, and went in procession
with the black flag before them, the death bell again tolling, and the
musicians playing the dead march, until they deposited his body in the
inn.

After Lamh Laudher had been chaired by the people, and borne throughout
every nook of the town, he begged them to permit him to go home. With a
fresh volley of shouts and hurras they proceeded, still bearing him in
triumph towards his father's house, where they left him, after a last
and deafening round of cheers. Our readers can easily fancy the pride of
his parents and friends on receiving him.

"Father," said he, "my name's' cleared. I hope I have the Lamh Laudher
blood in me still. Mother, you never doubted me, but you wor forced to
give way."

"My son, my son," said the father, embracing him, "my noble boy! There
never was one of your name like you. You're the flower of us all!"