were thrown out that it would surpass anything ever witnessed in London.
In this they were not far out of the way; for all who witnessed the
scene admitted that it could scarcely have been surpassed. My own idea
of an illumination, as I had seen it in the backwoods of my own native
land, dwindled into nothing when compared with this magnificent affair.

In company with a few friends, and a lady under my charge, I undertook
to pass through Sackville and one or two other streets, about eight
o'clock in the evening, but we found it utterly impossible to proceed.
Masses thronged the streets, and the wildest enthusiasm seemed to
prevail. In our attempt to cross the bridge, we were wedged in and lost
our companions; and on one occasion I was separated from the lady, and
took shelter under a cart standing in the street. After being jammed and
pulled about for nearly two hours, I returned to my lodgings, where I
found part of my company, who had come in one after another. At eleven
o'clock we had all assembled, and each told his adventures and
"hairbreadth escapes;" and nearly every one had lost a pocket
handkerchief or something of the kind: my own was among the missing.
However, I lost nothing; for a benevolent lady, who happened to be one
of the company, presented me with one which was of far more value than
the one I had lost.

Every one appeared to enjoy the holiday which the Royal visit had
caused. But the Irish are indeed a strange people. How varied their
aspect--how contradictory their character. Ireland, the land of genius
and degradation--of great resources and unparalleled poverty--noble
deeds and the most revolting crimes--the land of distinguished poets,
splendid orators, and the bravest of soldiers--the land of ignorance and
beggary! Dublin is a splendid city, but its splendour is that of
chiselled marble rather than real life. One cannot behold these