We may suppose it to be the beginning of the
season, and the night of the first drawing-room;
for levees and drawing-rooms have been going
here for centuries; and, with a sensible eye to
picturesque effect, the drawing-rooms are always
held at night. Towards ten o'clock carriages
are converging to the little hill from half a dozen
different points, and form into one line; inside
of which, fluttering young girls, all trains and
lappets, are folded up somehow. A crowd is at
the gates, laughing, jesting, criticising, half
satirically, but mostly with respect, the charms
that pass them by. Inside, in the court-yard,
all the tall windows are lit up in long files, and
the soldiers and police are drawn up; and
afar off under the arcade, where there is a blaze
of light, the carriages are " setting down," and
driving away. Inside, there are great halls lined
with soldiers, and a grand staircase, and long
galleries lined with servants and soldiers, and
the long, long room where the company wait
their turn, and crush on— as genteel crowds
always will crush, even at places of yet better
quality— to the barrier of the Pen. Under the
brilliant light is seen a curious crowd, like the
chorus at the opening of an opera, a variety of
uniform that would delight an Aulic councillor.
For to say nothing of the dreadful " court suit,"
still from necessity in universal favour, there are
soldiers of every " arm," sailors, privy
councillors, in the rude rasping high collars, with
coats of the "robin redbreast" cut, and a host
of other varieties that would " intrigue " the
Queen's chamberlain; for Ireland, like France
and Germany, is a uniform-ridden country. The
police uniform is a uniform infinitely more showy
than that of the Queen's rifles. The inspectors
of this and that government office have their
special dress. Even the Clerks of the Crown,
legal officers, are resplendent in blue and silver,
and "run" French senators very closely. Mixed
up with all these are the stately matrons and
the fresh young girls from the country, the
special " Irish " faces, the " violet eyes,"
placed beside the established reigning belles of
the city itself. There is an endless chatter going
on. Beyond, is a second room and another
barrier; and beyond that is the Throne-room, where
what we may hear a country gentleman call " the
sermony" takes place. Here we are at the
barrier, kept sternly but not unkindly by a
gigantic dragoon serjeant; and now, fluttering,
blushing, round-cheeked Miss Glorvina, you
may get ready.

For a " sham," and a thing that we are taught
is Brummagem, the matériel for a "sermony" is
very complete. Peeping into this Throne-room,
which is all a-blaze with gold, with a coved
ceiling, which has rich amber hangings and
furniture to match, and which recals a state-room
in the palace of St. Cloud, we can see a throne
with a handsome canopy, and for a matter of
spectacle, a very glittering pageant indeed. In
front of the throne the Viceroy himself, who may
be assumed to be that genial, gracious, pastime-
loving and Irish-loving nobleman, the late
Earl of Carlisle, whose strangely heavy white
hair, rosy full face, and gartered knee make
a picture that will be long recollected. On
each side, in a semicircle, are his "staff,"
the dozen or so of "aides," the "master
of the horse," " comptroller," " chamberlain,"
"gentlemen at large, " " state stewards,"
"private secretaries," "physicians to the house-
hold," " surgeons to the household," make up a
respectable and showy gathering. But opposite
them, thus making a sort of semicircular lane,
is a yet more effective crowd, the dignitaries
and persons of quality of "the Court," who
have been privileged with what is called the
"private entrée." Here we have archbishops
and primates, and lord chancellors and lords
justices, chief justices, lord mayors, deans,
chaplains, heralds in gorgeous tabards, knights
of St. Patrick, commanders of forces, privy
councillors in profusion, earls, marquises,
barons, and all the " ladies " of these illustrious
persons. When we think that every one looks
their best and wears their best, and that every
family diamond is put on to the best advantage,
the whole must be a rather dazzling sight. But
for them the whole spectacle must be a show of
great interest and amusement. For here, now,
the pages are letting down the agitated little
Glorvina' s train, and the dreadful moment
is at hand. Her stately mamma, well accustomed
to such a process, has stalked on
majestically, undismayed if a whole regiment were
drawn up there. Already the officials have got
the little girl's card, and are passing it on from
hand to hand, and the last has chanted it aloud:
"Miss GLORVINA SARSFIELD!" with the addition,
"TO BE PRESENTED!" which, translated into
English, means a vice-regal privilege consecrated
by immemorial usage. The deputy king has
his tenths, as it were, strictly levied on every
first presentation. The charming little Glorvina
—a Connemara rosebud— now making her
curtsey (practised again and again in Merrion-
square for many nights, and last night with
papa standing up as viceroy on the rug, and the
brothers doing the " staff"), is drawn over, and
the osculatory tribute exacted in a half paternal
fashion. Sometimes the confusion and maiden
modesty are so intense, that Caesar can only obtain
his tribute by a sort of game of hide and seek.
But when a new Viceroy arrives, everybody is

presented, and the saluting of some six hundred
Irish ladies, however agreeable an occupation
for a preux chevalier, is not without its alloy, for
the process becomes wholesale and indiscriminating,
and in the long female procession the
most courageous might be occasionally appalled.
This ordeal passed through, Miss Glorvina's
train is carefully gathered up and restored to
her, and she emerges into the long room or
gallery, where there is the crowd who have
successfully passed through. One of the most
entertaining things in the world is to stand at
this door and study the play of human female
expression as each emerge— the satisfaction,
shyness, and complacency, which all struggle in
the one face. This room is a fine picture, and
has its own interest besides its architectural