We arrived at Kingstown in the early morning, and anchored in the
harbour, but, by a polite fiction, the Munster was supposed to be
absolutely invisible to ordinary eyes, for the new Lord-
Lieutenant's official time of arrival from England was 11 a.m.
Accordingly, every one being arrayed in their very best for the
State entry into Dublin, the Munster got up steam and crept out of
the harbour (still, of course, completely invisible), to cruise
about a little, and to re-enter the harbour (obviously direct from
England) amidst the booming of twenty-one guns from the guardship,
a vast display of bunting, and a tornado of cheering.

Unfortunately, it had come on to blow; there was a very heavy sea
outside, and the Munster had an unrivalled opportunity for showing
off her agility, and of exhibiting her unusual capacity for
pitching and rolling. My youngest brother and I have never been
affected by sea-sickness; the ladies, however, had a very
unpleasing half-hour, though it must be rather a novel and amusing
experience to succumb to this malady when arrayed in the very
latest creations of a Paris dressmaker and milliner; still I fear
that neither my mother nor my sisters can have been looking quite
their best when we landed amidst an incredible din of guns,
whistles and cheering.

My father, as was the custom then, made his entry into Dublin on
horseback. Since he had to keep his right hand free to remove his
hat every minute or so, in acknowledgment of his welcome, and as
his horse got alarmed by the noise, the cheering, and the waving
of flags, he managed to give a very pretty exhibition of
horsemanship.