all the vessels within it, with the quays and buildings on either side-shortly afterwards demolished-were thronged.

Before the state coach drove up to Blackfriars-stairs, under the skilful guidance of Mr. Keck, the watermen who had marched in the procession with the Recorder and Chamberlain, the Sheriffs, the Aldermen, and the chief City officers, had entered the barge, so that the Lord Mayor experienced no delay, but on alighting, was ceremoniously conducted across a railed gangway to the stately vessel prepared for him.

Just as he stepped within it a salute was fired from Baynard's Castle, and another from the opposite bank of the river, while loud and reiterated cheers burst from the spectators on all sides, caught up and re-echoed by those on the river, who could not even see what was going on. At the same moment the bands of the different barges struck up, while the watermen looked out for the signal to start.

As soon as the Lord Mayor and his retinue were on board, the gorgeous vessel was pushed off; the barge-master telegraphed to the convoy around him, and in another moment the whole company was in motion and dropping into their places.

The Merchant Tailors took the lead, moving slowly and majesti cally along. The Skinners and Brewers followed, while in the midst of the dazzling squadron rode the City barge.

The whole river was now astir. Hundreds of boats accompanied the procession, which they could easily do, the progress of the barges being remarkably easy and dignified, while the lighter and more active craft threaded their way amongst them, or loitered to admire their decorations.

The spectacle was really magnificent. Moving six abreast, the barges stretched almost across the stream, and what with their splendour, the flags and banners with which they were adorned, the music, and the continuous shouts and acclamations from the occupants of the lesser craft, and the beholders on the banks of the river, the procession resembled some grand triumph.

In this manner the fleet passed the Temple Gardens, where the unemployed lawyers were collected to look at the show, old Somerset House-the present imposing edifice was not erected until some years later-Salisbury, York, and Hungerford Stairseach adding to the number of their attendant barks-and at length came in sight of Westminster Bridge, which had then been erected about ten or twelve years, and was pronounced one of the finest bridges in the world.

While the Lord Mayor's barge was passing Whitehall, his lordship, who was frequently obliged to show himself to his admirers and acknowledge their vociferous greetings, noticed amid the wherries thronging around him, a small boat rowed by a single waterman, in which sat his nephew, Herbert. He could not be

L

mistaken, for the young man, on perceiving his uncle, stood up and waved his hat. Though rather surprised at seeing him there, the Lord Mayor smiled and nodded in return, but his countenance almost instantly underwent a change. A little in advance of his nephew was another boat, pulled by two oarsmen, containing a stout elderly personage with his wife-a comely, middle-aged woman-and their daughter. This fat old fellow's name was Walworth. He was a respectable hosier, dwelling in St. Mary Axe, well enough to do in the world, and he and his wife were known to Sir Gresham. Alice Walworth, their daughter, was about nineteen, and possessed considerable personal attractions.

Mr. Walworth had got up to salute the Lord Mayor, and was in the act of bowing to him, when a collision took place between his boat and another which came suddenly and swiftly round the head of the barge. Losing his balance, owing to the force of the shock, the old hosier was precipitated into the stream with a tremendous splash, as if he had been taking a header. But this was only the commencement of the disaster. Mrs. Walworth and Alice shrieked aloud, and, in their endeavours to rescue him, overbalanced the boat, and in another instant they and its other occupants were in the water.

The Lord Mayor was greatly alarmed by the accident, and, with some of the aldermen, hastily quitted the saloon to procure as

sistance.

Aid was promptly found. Herbert Lorimer succeeded in catching Mrs. Walworth before she sank, and consigning her to the care of the waterman who pulled his boat, and who held her till further help could be obtained, he instantly plunged into the stream in search of the younger lady, who by this time had been swept away by the current, and, though many an arm had been put out to arrest her, had disappeared. Herbert, however, did not despair of saving her. He was an excellent swimmer, and noting the place where she had sunk, he dived, and presently returned to the surface sustaining her with one arm, while with the other he kept her from again sinking until a boat came to their aid.

Meantime, the other persons whose lives had also been placed in jeopardy met with a happy deliverance. The two watermen escaped with a ducking, as indeed did old Walworth himself, who was hooked up by the barge-master, and taken on board the City barge, where Mrs. Walworth was shortly afterwards brought by the Lord Mayor's directions.

Their anxiety respecting their daughter was speedily relieved by the shouts that hailed the successful issue of Herbert's gallant attempt, and in another minute Alice was delivered to them by her preserver.

162

SOCIAL SCIENCE AND SUNNY SCENES IN IRELAND.

AMONGST the usual "Scarlet Letter" announcements of cheap trips to most parts of the world, with which railway managers so good naturedly encourage the travelling taste of Englishmen and women during the summer and autumn months, perhaps the most numerous this year were those which invited tourists to meet, what a sister magazine has facetiously called "Lord Brougham and his troupe of charitable spinsters," at the Social Science meetings in Dublin; or to rush to Killarney with a hope, grounded on the presence of our fair-weather Queen, that the sun might be induced to shine upon its exquisite though somewhat showery loveliness.

Invited by kind friends living near Dublin to spend with them the week of the Social Science meetings, we started-without, however, availing ourselves of return tickets-on the 13th of August, by the 7.35 A.M. train from Euston-square, and after a delightful drive through the rich and romantic scenery of the centre of England and the north of Wales, rushing across the Menai Straits, through the tube of Mr. Stephenson's wonderful bridge, we reached Holyhead soon after two o'clock. The noble steamer the Connaught, one of four named after the four provinces of Ireland, which have been employed since October, 1860, in the mail service between England and Ireland, was lying alongside the pier, and impatiently puffing out her steam in token of her readiness to start when we arrived; nor were we long in obeying her summons, passengers and luggage were soon on board, and in less than half an hour we were steaming with a fair wind and smooth sea to Kingstown Harbour. It would be difficult to say too much of the luxury and comfort of the arrangements on board this steamer, or of the civility and kindness of those who are connected with her; indeed, a voyage in the Connaught on such a day as we had must have been enjoyed by all, even the most squeamish. In about three hours and a half the beautiful Bay of Dublin appeared, and soon after six o'clock we ran into Kingstown Harbour; the train for Dublin was in readiness, and in a quarter of an hour we found ourselves at the terminus in Harcourt-street, having travelled from London to Dublin with all possible comfort and with little or no fatigue, in eleven hours! Hitherto, our luggage had been "from us a thing apart," but now we were told to claim our own-no easy task, when, as it seemed to me, every lady travelled with a black leather bag, and had a scarlet braided cover to her box exactly like my own. However, by adopting the plan of leaving others to select while I merely watched that their choice did not fall on what belonged to me, I managed with no trouble and with but little delay to secure my own property.

The scene outside an Irish railway terminus must ever be an amusing one; inside cars looking like thin slices of worn-out omnibuses, with horses to match; outside cars with their seats folded up and their drivers in every variety of shabby costume, brandishing their long whips and vociferating in the richest brogue for passengers; stout porters bearing nearly as heavy burdens as the far-famed hammals of Turkey; little boys, innocent of shoes, stockings, or hat, and with the rest of their apparel in

such a tattered condition that the only reasonable way of accounting for its clinging to them is, that, when once put on it is never taken but allowed to drop off as it pleases, and yet looking as rosy and merry as if they "walked in silk attire ;" penny newspaper sellers, bawling out the names and contents of their stock in trade; women carrying advertising boards, and proving that, in one particular at any rate the great movement for the employment of women is responded to in Dublin;-all this greeted us while our luggage was being packed in the car which was to convey us to Dundrum, an arrangement greatly impeded by the number of helpers, one of whom, as we drove off, refusing to pay him for doing nothing and saying we had no more change, bawled out, "Sure, and your honour will send it back by the driver."

During this week the Four Courts in Dublin were the great scene of attraction of a morning, while the evenings were generally devoted to a visit to some of the soirées given to the members of the Social Science Association. Many a drive through the handsome streets of Dublin, and along its fine quays, did I take to those courts, and often, I fear, was I among those whose "flounced petticoats were seen fluttering along corridors, mounting with impetuous haste flights of stairs, and alighting at last in giddy galleries"-to listen to papers on all imaginable subjects, or to be interested by discussions on these papers from Lord Brougham, Mr. Napier, Mr. Whiteside, and others, whose eloquence is not generally drawn forth in places where ladies congregate. Bravely did Lord Brougham bear the fatigue and excitement of the six days, and I may add nights, that the meeting lasted; from its opening-when he spoke for two hours and a half, tiring his listeners no more than he appeared to do himself to his farewell rejoinder, after Sir Robert Peel had offered him the thanks of the Association, at its close, his energy never failed. Did Miss Bessie Parkes gracefully draw his attention to the employment of women in foreign countries, deducing thence how best to provide work for them in our own; or Miss Emily Faithfull with plain good sense describe the working of the Victoria Press, by which so many females are employed in a trade hitherto believed to be only fitted for men; or again, were the papers to which he listened those of learned lawyers who spoke of jurisprudence, raising questions on the laws of evidence, of marriage and divorce; or, once more, was it the Solicitor-General, with his learned and interesting paper on Ireland's special produce, pigs,-to all and each of these subjects did Lord Brougham give a pleased and earnest attention, ever ready to seize the best points of the argument, and constantly relieving the dulness of a discussion by the liveliness of his own fancy.

Perhaps one of the most striking sights connected with the Social Science meetings in Dublin was the gathering of the Young Men's Christian Societies in the Round Room at the Mansion House, a meeting presided over by Lord Brougham, and to which all connected with the Social Science Association were invited. This room was built as a banqueting-hall when George IV. paid his visit to Dublin, and holds from fifteen hundred to two thousand people. On this night its capabilities were put to the test; every available part of it was full of those who listened with undisturbed silence to Lord Brougham and others who addressed the ten different societies of Young Irishmen congregated in the centre of the building. On another night the Lord Lieutenant opened

the Castle for the reception of the Association, and walked, with his sister, Lady Lascelles, on his arm, followed by his two fair nieces, through the rooms, blandly smiling on and bowing to his guests. All Dublin seemed on the qui vive to welcome the association; the Lord Mayor invited its principal members to a banquet; judges gave dinners; literary and scientific societies gave soirées; museums and public gardens opened with free admission to those connected with it; in fact, as Lord Brougham, in his farewell speech, said, "every class seemed to vie with and rival each other in kindness and usefulness, and activity of co-operation."

But the week passed away; the four courts were again resigned to their rightful owners; crinolines no longer sought for room in the narrow seats intended for silk or stuff gowns of less ample dimensions; the solicitor's room had lost the bright eyes which at the "ladies' meeting" had drawn from Lord Brougham the flattering assertion that it was as easy to doubt that the ladies of Ireland were as charitable as their EngFish sisters as that they were as handsome; "and no one," added his lordship, with an emphatic stroke of his umbrella on the floor, "would venture, with what I see before me, to do that."

Cars, which during the week had almost instinctively found their way to the four courts, now as naturally conveyed their occupants to the Kingsbridge terminus, whence all were rushing towards Killarney, in anticipation of meeting the Queen there. Very early on the morning of Thursday, the 22nd of August, the Carlisle pier at Kingstown was crowded by those who had obtained tickets for places overlooking the harbour, and who were waiting anxiously for some signs of movement on board the royal yacht, which had come to anchor in the harbour the night before. Soon after ten o'clock the Queen, in deep mourning, but looking well and cheerful, appeared on deck. Loud and warm were the cheers with which she was greeted by her Irish subjects; and when, about an hour later, she landed, leaning on the arm of Prince Albert, and followed by her young sailor son Prince Alfred, and her two fair daughters the Princesses Alice and Helena, a deafening and enthusiastic cheer rose again and again from those who had waited long to welcome her. Both the Queen and her husband appeared to feel and appreciate the warmth of their reception. The Queen looked happy; she smiled and bowed her thanks as she walked slowly to the train which was waiting to convey her to Dublin. She little thought then how soon the strong arm on which she so lovingly leaned would be taken from her; she was but recovering from the deep grief of a child sorrowing over the death of a beloved mother, and now, as I write on this 23rd of December, but four months later, the guns boom and the sad bells toll the knell of death, while the husband whose sympathy had been her consolation in this sorrow, whose wisdom has guided and whose love has blessed her with so many years of wedded happiness, is being laid in the dark vaults at Windsor, and our Queen, weeps, a widow, at Osborne for him.

But all this sorrow was little thought of when, on the 23rd of August, crowds of loyal Irish stationed themselves along the line of the Kingstown Railway, anxious to catch a glimpse of their Queen as she passed rapidly by them. Various were the salutations offered to her, full of love, by these warm-hearted people-who, whether in Dublin, where in wellordered crowds they stood patiently, from nine in the morning till six