The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1853-05-17 00:00:00

THE GREAT EXHIBITION AND

ITS OPENING.

[FROM OUR OWN REPORTER.]

THE VOYAGE FROM LIVERPOOL TO KINGSTOWN.
THE morning's snowfall has been succeeded by a most
un-Maylike Monday of sleet and wind, chilling market-
gardeners in the suburbs and the blue-tinted cheeks of
city pedestrians—making the " flags" as treacherous as
certain smart detectives whom Liverpool supports, and
causing every street-rivulet to play a noisy tune as har-
monious as the discontented talk spoken by everybody to
his neighbour, but especially rife, towards 7 p.m., at the
Prince's pierhead, where a well-drenched crowd are
wending their way on board the Iron Duke, bound for the
Irish metropolis. We are of the party who have daringly
determined to cross the troubled Channel even for such a
sight as this is, and, like our neighbours, think proper to
be decidedly glum until our stock of ill-humour is sent to
flight by the advent of a band of musical Liverpudlians,
with Mr. Sudlow at their head, each carrying a face as
sadly sombre as the big bass fiddle which brings up the
rear of the Philharmonic army. For a few minutes all is
excitement and bustle on board. No small difficulty has
occurred in getting the couple of monster fiddles safely
housed. A polite old lady in the cabin has in a state of
extraordinary excitement refused the acceptance of a
crownpiece proffered in change by the Company's clerk ;
she pronounces it a new coin of which she is determined
to know nothing, and is not happy till two half-crowns
have supplanted the larger disc, while some smiling coun-
tenances around seem to say—
" How happy could I be with either 1"
That favoured specimen of Young Liverpool—the envied
of all on board—has taken an affecting farewell of a
graceful and fair triumvirate, who are really the only
parties that seem oblivious of the weather : how much he
of the gold-girded fingers has to do with the said oblivion
is, we confess, the subject of our profound speculation
as we move away from the pier into the river, and
are suddenly awakened from our reverie by a gentle
rolling which is rife with dismal bodings of the future—
suggesting visions of midnight addresses to the great deep,
and the delivery of solid ejaculations to the fishes, as the
witty Sir Francis Head phrases it. The sky is dark
and cloudy, and is relieved only by a slight rim of light
on the northern horizon, sweeping like a streak of silver
round the Fort, and gradually extending along the Cheshire
shore. About eight o'clock those who have a mind to do
so go down for tea—always so excellently supplied on
board the vessels belonging to the City of Dublin Steam-
packet Company. When we ascend to the deck in an
hour or two, we find the night has undergone a reforma-
tion—the sky is now radiant with stars, and the lead-
coloured clouds have passed away. Albeit, now that we
are fairly in the Channel, the swell is apparently aggra-
vated, and it is as much as one can do to keep his per-
pendicular.
It is a feature of the English character to be very
familiar with strangers—in the dark. You share a cabin-
sofa with a gruff specimen of John Bull, and, as the small
hours wag wearily along, you grow wondrously commu-
nicative and friendly : in the morning there is a nod of
recognition, perhaps not even that, and you are, in the
light of day, silent as mummies. But, on board the Iron
Duke, we were a sociable, friendly company ; and the
evening talk of course related chiefly to the coming event.
The idea seemed to be that there is perhaps no tow❑ in
England than Liverpool whose duty it more decidedly is
to extend a ready and cheerful support to the great enter-
prise originated by the noble-minded William Dargan—
he of whom the genial Slingsby has sung as

" The man with his hand in his pocket,"

and who, in the erection of the Industrial Palace, which
now graces Merrion-square, has proved that he can put
his hand in his pocket to most excellent purpose, and
that, although the architect of his own fortune, he is
guided by a higher principle than that of self, and has at
heart the prosperity of his native land. The talk in our
cabin was, further, to the effect that there are a variety of
reasons why Liverpool should make a pilgrimage to
Dublin in the summer of 1553. In the first place, there
was the pecuniary benefit derived by the Queen of the
Mersey from the trade with Ireland, so well illustrated by
the significant fact that it is now nearly a score of years since
the value of the Irish cattle and sheep brought into our
port amounted annually to three millions sterling. Then,
secondly, a large number of the population are from the
sister country, and among their ranks are some of our
most useful citizens. Lastly, there is our proximity to
the Emerald Isle, and our position as the chief link in the
chain of communication between the two countries.

By midnight our talk was over, and all but one fast
young student, who was deep in the mysteries of Soapey
Sponge, were seeking, ineffectually, to snatch a little re-
pose. Sunrise and the beautiful Irish mountains came
with tidings of a glorious morning, and at seven o'clock
our party disembarked at Kingstown, and were conveyed
in a trice to Dublin by the nicely-appointed little railway,
running amidst the most delightful scenery, already fra-
grant with hawthown-blooms, and which provides second-
class carriages, almost equal to our English first, at
the rate of about a penny a mile. We have seen a more
troublesome crowd of loafters at an English port than
those by whom we were assailed at Kingstown ; and
altogether, both that town and the railway must impress
the stranger with the idea that the most of what composes
his first view of the Green Isle might with great advan-
tage be transferred to England— the railway, where no
accidents occur, and where elegant accommodation is
cheaply supplied, the attractive villas which skirt the sea-
shore, and the sweet hills in the back-ground, rising
gently against the sky.