When these arrangements had been satisfactorily made, they were guided towards the river-meadow, on a slope overlooking which the homestead and outbuildings were situated. Here was clustered an encampment of tents and booths, of every size and shape, and apparently devoted to as many various classes of amusement and recreation.
The short grass of the river flat, as it was generally called, was admirably adapted for the present purposes and intentions. The propitious season, with its frequent showers, had furnished a fair imitation of English turf, both in verdure and in thickness of sward, the latter quality much assisted by the stud flock of the famed Badajos merinoes.
The concluding day of the memorable Badajos Revels, the unrivalled and immortal performance, had arrived. The last act was about to be called on. All the arrangements had been more than successful. The sports and pastimes had gone through without hitch or contention. The populace was enthusiastic in praise of the liberality which had ministered so lavishly to their amusement. The aristocracy were no less unanimous in their approbation. That battues, the picnics, the costume ball, had been, beyond all description, delightful, fascinating, well carried out, in such perfect taste—extraordinary good form—intoxicating—heavenly—utterly, indescribably delicious; the adjectives and superlatives varying with the age, position, sex, or character of the speaker.
And now the modern miracle-play was to finish with a presentment, unique and marvellous beyond belief. The main body of guests and revellers had departed soon after daylight. ‘Conclamatum est, Poculatum est,’ said a young Irish priest. ‘I shall have to go into “retreat” if Father Mahony gets word of me at the ball. Wasn’t I Lord Edward Fitzgerald to the life? But I durstn’t stay away an hour longer from my flock.’ Many were the half-repentant, homeward-bound wayfarers who held similar opinions. And the continuous passage of the fords of the Yass River might have suggested to the Scots, by birth or extraction, King James’ army after Flodden—
Tweed’s echoes heard the ceaseless plash,
While many a broken band,
Disordered through her currents dash,
To gain the Scottish land.
There was not, it is true, such need for haste, but the pace at which the shallower fords were taken might have suggested it.