frantic with ardour, waving green flags, shouting national songs, cheering the various demagogues who harangued them from platforms, improvised on the tops of vehicles, bands playing, and processions forming, surging along the thoroughfares toward the Queenstown road and railway, and swaying against the pedestal of the placid statue of Father Mathew near the bridge—all this hubbub, which at another time would have been an uproar in itself, was now overwhelmed by a far mightier sound; for all day long the crackling thunder pealed, and tore, and shook the earth, from the awful scene of carnage only a few miles away.
To return to our friends at Bude.
‘They’re engaged by sea and land, you say,’ observed Mr Whyte. ‘I shouldn’t have thought any landing could be effected until our fleet had first been beaten off.’
‘Or surprised,’ answered Lesbia. ‘The enemy has forced entrance to Cork Harbour, and the two fleets are pounding away at each other inside the great basin, which no doubt makes a tremendous echo to heavy ordnance; while the armies are engaged in the valley between the long hills which extend northward from the ocean coast to the southern shore of the basin. I know all about it—I’ve been over the ground; and my mother had a dream or vision of this battle long ago.’
‘Gracious! have I been harbouring a witch all this time?’ said Mr Whyte, with a very forced laugh.
‘Witch or not, you’ll see the accounts will confirm what I say,’ answered Lesbia positively. ‘And now, dear friends,’ she added, ‘with your consent, I must run once more into Stratton to get the earliest news of the result—thanks, no, I couldn’t eat or drink now, I couldn’t fancy it, while death and wounds are sounding in my ears.’
‘Won't you be over fatigued, dear?’ said Mrs Whyte, in faint remonstrance.
