A friendly citizen let us perch on his outside car.
The procession presently came in sight, and a grand show it made--not of the strictly popular and political sort, for it was made up of guilds and other organised bodies on foot and on horseback, marching in companies--but imposing by reason of its numbers, and of the flaring torches.

Of these there were not so many as there should have been to do justice to the procession.

The crowd cheered from time to time, with that curious Irish cheer which it is often difficult to distinguish from groaning, but the only explosive and uproarious greeting given to the visitors in our neighbourhood came from a member of "the devout female sex," a young lady who stood up between two friends on the top of a car very near us, and imperilled both her equilibrium and theirs by wildly waving her hand-kerchief in the air, and crying out at the top of a somewhat husky voice, "Three cheers for Mecklenburg Street! Three cheers for Mecklenburg Street!" This made the crowd very hilarious, but as Lord Ernest's local knowledge did not enable him to enlighten me as to the connection between Mecklenburg Street and the liberation of Ireland, I must leave the mystery of their mirth unsolved till a more convenient season.
At Rutland Square the crowd was tightly packed, but perfectly well-behaved, and the guests were enthusiastically cheered.

But even before they had entered the house of Mr.Walker it began to break up, and long files of people wended their way to see "the carriages" hastening with their lovely freight to the Castle.

Thither Lord Ernest has just gone, arrayed in a captivating Court costume of black velvet, with cut-steel buttons, sword, and buckles--just the dress in which Washington used to receive his guests at the White House, and in which Senator Seward, I remember, insisted in 1860 on getting himself presented by Mr.Dallas to Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace..