Nor were there wanting on this
occasion some vivid glances that were burthened, as they passed aslant,
their fair faces, with pithier feelings than those that originated from
a simple desire of victory. If truth must be told, baleful flashes,
unmeasured both in number and expression, were exchanged in a spirit
of true defiance between the interested and contending parties, as the
close of the contest approached. At length, by the proclamation of the
reelers, the great body of the competitors were thrown out, and they
consequently gave up the contest. It was now six o'clock, and the
first sound of seven o'clock by Captain Millar's bell was to close the
proceedings, and enable the reelers to proclaim the victor. Only four
names now remained to battle it out to the last; to wit, a country
farmer's daughter, named Betty Aikins, Dora M'Mahon, Hanna Cavanagh, and
a servant-girl belonging to another neighbor, named Peggy Bailly. This
ruck, as they say on the turf, was pretty well up together, but all
the rest nowhere. And now, to continue the metaphor, as is the case
at Goodwood or the Curragh, the whole interest was centered upon these
four. At the commencement of the last hour the state of the case was
proclaimed as follows: Betty Aikins, three dozen and eight cuts; Dora
M'Mahon, three dozen and seven cuts; Hanna Cavanagh, three dozen and
five cuts; and Peggy Bailly, three dozen and four cuts.
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