‘Is it my enemy—sure he is every body’s enemy, and anything that Dennis could say or do, would not change him for better or worse. Don’t you remember the death of poor H—b—s—n, how could any body like him after that? I wouldn’t have his conscience for worlds.[14] But come, comrade, let’s into the city—By the powers, I had almost forgot myself, I promised to call on Peggy Doyle. Let me see, what will I buy for Peggy?’—but that moment a carriage came rattling down the street, filled outside and inside with our comrades, and ribbons and handkerchiefs streaming from all parts of it. ‘By the hokey!’ cried Dennis, in a yell of transport, ‘let’s scale the garrison.’ In a moment we were mounted, and poor Peggy Doyle was consigned to oblivion. The town was now in an uproar; carriages, sociables, and jaunting cars were in requisition, flying past in every direction, with our men clinging to the outside of them, to the manifest danger of their necks and limbs. Every thing seemed to have received an impulse unusual to it, and participated in the flying motion,—the old women shouted, the children capered, the dogs barked, and the very pigs, instead of lying lazily before the doors, were galloping about the streets with their tails cocked. Some of the boys had tarried so long at the whisky, that all the vehicles of any speed had been taken up; but their invention was soon at work; common cars were hired by them, and driven furiously along, to the great torment of the poor hacks. One fellow, who had been too late for even a common car, and determined at all events to ride, jumped into an empty buttermilk churn[15] up to the neck, and paid the woman handsomely to drive him along. ‘Och, it’s yourself that has the taste, Slobber-daddy,’ cried Dennis, ‘you were always fond of the slurry.’[16] He had scarcely spoke the word, when the wheel of the carriage came in contact with that of the car, and in a twinkling we were all sprawling in the mud, in glorious confusion. Nobody was hurt, however, the buttermilk hero excepted, who had broken his nose when emptied out of the churn. Up we were again in a moment, dashing along, regardless of old women, children, and corners, until the poor horses were so jaded that they actually stood still. It was now near evening, all the public-houses soon filled, and drinking and boisterous mirth of every description was kept up during the night.