eight o'clock
It is true that their senses are touched by more visible things ; but whoever understands our people will agree with me that no great theologian in his study , no philosopher in his rostrum , no sacred nun in her choir , realizes more distinctly the awful meaning of that continued miracle of love and mercy that is enshrined on our altars , and named _ Emmanuel _ . But all things come around , sooner or later , in their destined courses , and Monday dawned , fair and sunny and beautiful , as befitted the events that were to take place . There was a light summer haze on sea and land ; and just a ripple of a breeze blown down as a message from the inhospitable hills . Father Letheby said early Mass at eight o'clock ; and at half-past nine , the hour for the nuptial Mass , there was no standing or sitting-room in the little chapel . Of course , the front seats were reserved for the gentry , who , in spite of an academical dislike to Ormsby 's conversion , gathered to witness this Catholic marriage , as a rare thing in Ireland , at least amongst their own class . But behind them , and I should say in unpleasant proximity -LRB- for the peasantry do not carry handkerchiefs scented with White Rose or Jockey Club , -- only the odor of the peat and the bogwood -RRB- , surged a vast crowd of men and women , on whose lips and in whose hearts was a prayer for her who was entering on the momentous change in her sweet and tranquil life . And young Patsies and Willies and Jameses were locked by their legs around their brothers ' necks , and trying to keep down and economize for further use that Irish cheer or yell , that from Dargai to Mandalay is well known as the war-whoop of the race invincible .