Castledaley's, near Macroom, County Cork,
and which, every time of its performance,
nearly killed an old man and woman from
laughter.

Two rows of chairs were placed back to
back down the room, just one less in number
than those playing; who, with hands
joined and their backs to the chairs,
walked slowly round and round, as Katey
played the piano. The instant the music
stopped every one was to fling himself or
herself into a seat; and, as there was one
short, one person was excluded and left
standing. Then sly Katey played her
strains in the most artful way, now feinting,
as it were, and affecting to be on the
point of stopping, when some one would be
betrayed into making a dive at the seat;
now hurrying on, so that the whole party
had to canter round and round till they
were out of breath. Then came the abrupt
silence of the music, and such a scuffling,
tumbling, and staggering; such a clatter of
chairs knocked together, such hysterical
screams from laughter and squeezing, such
frantic and convulsive struggling, and such
heat and fluster, it was really the most exhilarating
spectacle in the world—though, of
course, extremely " vulgar." Most comical
was it to see the long stooping figure of
Lord Shipton coursing round, and being
coursed round by one of the lively girls,
a little nervous about his corns, half
enjoying the romp, and treated with the most
profane disrespect. Billy Webber was the
leader; he had borrowed a pin from Miss
Katey, with which he had pinned back his
coat-tails for better freedom of action. At
the end of each round a fresh chair was
taken away, and a fresh person became
"out;" and it was amazing to see how
the excitement and the desperation of the
struggle increased, and one would have
thought a life was at stake. At last it was
reduced to two persons, the Reverend Mr.
Webber, a most grotesque figure, with his
clerical coat-tails pinned back, and his face
showing signs that would be accepted in a
court of law as certain evidence of heat,
and Miss Polly, walking round and round,
hands joined, and a single chair between
them. The young lady was proud of her
publicity; though her fine hair was all
tossed; coming down at the back, though
fixed up temporarily with a hasty hair-pin.
Her delicate cheek was covered with a
rich and glowing colour, and her collar
rather awry; so, too, was her dress " torn
off her back," through Lord Shipton's
stepping awkwardly on it in the mêlée
but with all, she was a fine and most
picturesque figure. Both danced round,
Polly falling into all manner of attitudes,
panting like some hunted fawn, hardly
able to stand from laughter; flustered,
heated, tumbled, Mr. Webber bent down,
his eyes fixed on Polly, " as if he was waiting
for a bird to rise," his collar very
limp, he also much out of breath, and both
slipping round watching each other's eyes,
as in a duel with daggers. Katey artfully
protracted the situation until it became
painfully "stretched," now affecting to be
on the verge of stopping, and causing the
excited clergyman to make a plunge at
the chair. "I'll back Polly," said the
father, eagerly. " Watch his eye, my girl!"
Instantly the music stopped; the chair
rocked and tottered with the attack made
on it; both are on it; or, at least, Polly
would seem to be almost in the lap of the
clergyman; when suddenly the seat slips
off, and down she slides, and sits on it on
the ground, not ungracefully, after all:
while the clergyman is triumphant on
the vacant frame. Shrieks of laughter
rise at this tableau. Vociferous tongues
are uplifted as both sides claim the victory,
which is given, as of course, by " Lord
Chief Justice Shipton," to whom the matter
is referred, in Polly's favour. She rises,
full of the wildest spirits, and bids her
sister, in scarcely a whisper, " Pin me up,
dear, for the love of Heaven, for I'm all
coming to pieces!"

Now, all this picture may seem low, and
possibly beneath the dignity of narrative,
such boisterous " vulgarians " not deserving
to have their doings reported; but
still it brings out the character of the
two girls, who, from their perfectly genuine
nature and love of Irish fun, were
not, by any means, low or vulgar. This
sheer "romping" was, of course, indiscreet;
but there was such thorough enjoyment
in the whole that we must be indulgent.
There can be no doubt a very
happy evening was spent, especially when
the cold " round " and some devilled bones
were brought in, and when the Reverend
Billy, who had the sweetest tenor in the
county, gave them My Love is Like a
Red, Red Rose, in so plaintive and amorous
a way, that a stranger must have set
him down as quite a shy and tender creature.
But then, like Timotheus, in the Ode, he
changed his measure, giving them The
Rigdum Doo, a most comic song, with a
chorus for all to the above words. Getting
still more into feather, as the genial tunes