graceful and appropriate that they constituted a distinction by themselves, greater than the distinction of knighthood. I was afterwards told that this was the first instance in which a person had been knighted by a Lord Lieutenant, either for scientific or literary merit. The dinner was in the great hall for public examinations, and was abundant and beautiful, in better order, and more quiet, than any public dinner I ever witnessed. It was even recherche in the food, wines, ices, and fruits, among which last they had the costly luxury of peaches and pine-apples, grown of course entirely under glass, and furnished in great profusion. . . . . A Latin grace and thanks were sung, with great beauty and sweetness, by the College choir, which has the reputation of being the best in the three kingdoms. August 16.—I dined with the Lord Lieutenant, driving again through that magnificent park, two or three miles, to reach the Lodge. It was a small party, consisting only of two ladies, who seemed to be connections of Lord Mulgrave; the usual proportion of aidesde-camp and secretaries; Mr. Harcourt of York; Mr. Stanley of the Derby family; Mr. Vignolles, one of the chaplains; Wilkie, the painter; and myself. . . . . When Lord Mulgrave came in he spoke to every one, not ceremoniously, as he did the other day, but very familiarly. He sat down first, asked us to be seated, and talked very agreeably; was evidently pleased to find that his books had been printed and read in America, and said that he still had a particular liking for his old title of Lord Normanby, under which he wrote them. . . . . After the ladies had left the table he became very pleasant in conversation, telling amusing stories,. . . . and talking about the present condition of Dublin and its progressive improvement with apparently much knowledge of facts and a deep interest. He certainly talked uncommonly well. . . . We came away bringing with us all, I believe, the impression he seems to leave everywhere, that of a highbred nobleman and an intellectually accomplished gentleman. August 17.—We left Dublin this morning for an excursion into the county of Wicklow,. . . . and in about an hour reached the hospitable mansion of Mr. Isaac Weld, the former traveller in America, now the Secretary of the Dublin Society, which his labors have chiefly made what it now is, and one of the most efficient persons in all the arrangements and proceedings of the last busy and exciting week. He is, I suppose, above sixty years old, with a quiet but rather earnest look and manner, and belongs to the old Catholic family of Welds in England, of which the present Cardinal Weld is a leading member.
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