Acclamations rent the sky as the procession advanced, and showers of roses were rained down upon the Queen and her general from the balloons above; from which, also, flags waved in graceful folds, and flapped in the wind, as the balloons floated along the sky. Every one seemed delighted with the grandeur of this splendid pageant; but no one experienced more pleasure than the occupiers of the balloon of Mr. Montagu. Even that oblivious gentleman himself was moved to exclaim, that he never was more enchanted in his life; whilst the raptures of his spouse were so excessive, that, like the spectators of the stag-hunt on the lake of Killarney, she was in imminent danger of throwing herself overboard in her ecstasy: and Clara clasped her hands together, in all the transports of childish delight, her sparkling eyes and animated looks bearing ample witness to her gratification. "What shouting! what a noise!" exclaimed Mr. Montagu; "I declare it puts me in mind of the acclamations in the time of Nero, when the Romans shouted in concert, and birds fell from the skies with the noise!" "La! papa, is that true?" asked Clara. "Och, and that's a strange kind of a question," said Father Murphy, "and one I wouldn't like a child of mine to be putting." "And why not?" asked Mr. Montagu, somewhat indignantly. "Because a child ought always to belave what his father says, before he hears him open his mouth." "How well the Queen looks!" observed Mrs. Montagu, to whom the reverend father's remark was far from agreeable. "It was said a short time since, that she had lost her appetite and could get no rest; but I think she doesn't seem to have much the matter with her now." "My nurse says she's being poisoned," cried Clara, "and that it would be no great matter if she was, for then the people would have to choose a Queen for themselves, and they might make what terms they pleased with her." "And is this the kind of servant you suffer to attend on my daughter, Mrs. Montagu?" demanded the indignant father, roused from his usual lethargy by the importance of the occasion; "Clara shall go to a boarding-school to-morrow, and her nurse shall be dismissed. My child shall not be taught to utter treason." "Dear me! Mr. Montagu," replied the wife, "what a serious matter you make of a little harmless gossip!" "Gossip do you call it?" repeated her husband; "it is such gossip as might cost me my head, and you your fortune, if it were to reach unfriendly ears." An awkward pause followed this speech, which no one seemed inclined to break, till Clara exclaimed, "Dear me! what a pretty horse my cousin Edmund rides!" "I think that's a prettier that comes after him," said Father Murphy. "What, that one with his head hanging down and his mane sweeping the ground?" asked Mrs. Montagu. "Yes.--And it's a very handsome young man also, that walks by the side of him," replied Father Murphy.