The dinner was splendidly superb. The services of richly chased and embossed plate which this day decorated the nuptial table, were truly magnificent. One service was of gold, two others were of silver.
In the evening there was a grand ball, which was opened by Sir David Bruce and his beauteous bride; they were followed by the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel, who, (ah, good old-fashioned times!) upon this occasion, tripped it on the light fantastic toe; they were soon followed by a large group, who danced down the contrè-danse with great spirit; a smile of joy was evidently seen in the benevolent face of Bishop Bonhomme, and he was even seen to beat time with his head and foot.
Brilliant illuminations were observable throughout the domain, various coloured lamps were garlanded from tree to tree, and likewise across different avenues in the lawn.
A banquet was spread for the duke's tenantry, where most excellent and substantial fare was presented in abundance to all; and there was no lack of strong beer, which flowed forth in streams. Fire-works of various kinds were played off. And the duke's band of French horns, stationed in different parts of the park, played various tunes, which were sweetly echoed by the adjoining woods, and the responding waters of the Eske.
The tenants and peasantry did not omit the Irish dance, the Rinceadh-Fada, which was danced with great spirit and grace in front of the windows of the baronial hall. Old Cormac was now summoned to assist at the ceremonies and the gaiety of the hall. Upon command to attend, his remark was—"Weel, weel, 'twas anely as I expected!" He immediately hastened to the festive scene, and brought with him a Scotch harper, old Donald, who had been a retainer in the family of Bruce, and whom the intelligence of the nuptials that were that day to be solemnized had brought into the neighbourhood. Here a polite and courteous contest arose between the minstrels, each standing upon etiquette, and quite ready to award to the other the right of precedence; however, this posing point, d'embarras, was at length finally settled by Donald's declaring, that "he wad na pla' at a' afore maister Cormac." So, volens, nolens, old Cormac seized his harp, and thus began, accompanying his instrument with the following verses:—
May plenty, peace, long bless the isle
Where pity's tear can woe beguile!