RACE led him on to the Fine Arts Hall, where the original thoughts of a
thousand painters, new and old, glowed upon him from walls which the
DEVONSHIRES, and LANSDOWNES, and TALBOTS, and PORTARLINGTONS, and
YARBOROUGHS, and CHARLEMONTS, and others, had joined to enrich with the
choicest treasures of their castles and mansions. And amid the priceless
display, _Mr. Punch_ felt justly proud of his aristocratic friends, who
could at once trust and teach the people.

HONORA bade him look from her, and they passed from an exquisite
Mediaeval Court, its blue vault studded with golden stars, crossed the
hall, and observed a long range of machinery doing its various restless
work, and doing it noiselessly, thanks to a silent system and a
tremendous rod, sent from Manchester by FAIRBAIRN, through whose Tubular
Bridge _Mr. Punch_ had flown at dawn. And HONORA showed him where
Ireland had put forth her own strength, and thrown down her linens and
her woollens in friendly challenge, and with her hardware, her minerals,
her beautiful marbles, and her admirable typography. They ascended, and
passing through long lines of galleries, _Mr. Punch's_ adorable guides
pointed out, amid a legion of wares, things more graceful and useful
than he had seen assembled since the bell (on that 11th of October last
but one) tolled for the fall of Paxtonia.

"And now, dear _Mr. Punch_," said HONORA, "you have looked round our
Dublin Exhibition, and--and--"

"And," said GRACE, "you know that you sometimes say rather severe things
about Ireland--"

"Never," said _Mr. Punch_, dropping upon his knees. "Never. But here I
register a vow."

The whole assembly was suddenly hushed, and had _Mr. Punch's_ words been
literal, instead of only metaphorical, pearls and diamonds, you might
have heard them fall on those boards.

"That for your sakes here present, and for the sake of all the wise, and
energetic, and right-hearted men of Ireland who have to do with this
building, and with your roads, and railways, and schools, and the like,
I will henceforth wage even more merciless and exterminating war than
hitherto with the humbug Irish patriots (dupes or tools), who tarnish
the name of a nation which can rear and fill an edifice like this."

A shout which made the good SIR JOHN BENSON'S broad arches ring again
and again. And, as it subsided, there came forth from the crowd of
ladies, whose eyes all turned affectionately on the new comer, a
stalwart presence.