Before the 1st of May, 1851, it was impossible to form an adequate idea of the magnificence of the scene which was to render its opening memorable for all time. Those who the day before had made the journey of the avenues from end to end, above and below, could not have believed it possible that in so few hours so great a change could have been wrought. There was the glass fountain in the centre of the building, shining, as the sun’s rays came slanting down upon it through the crystal roofs, as if it had been carved out of icicles, or as if the water streaming from the fountain had been made suddenly solid, and transfixed into beautiful forms. In the machine-room, with its seeming infinity of engines puffing and twirling away, were the “self-acting mules” at work, drawing out almost spontaneously their long lines of threads, as if from a thousand spiders; the huge Jacquard lace machines were busy weaving the finest embroidered “edgings;” the pumps were throwing up their huge cascades of water, while the steam printing-press was whirling its vast sheets through a maze of tapes, and then pouring them forth, one after another, impressed with a whole firmament of “signs and symbols;” the envelope machine, with its magic “finger”—the power-looms—the model locomotives—the centrifugal pumps—the horizontal and vertical steam-engines—were each and all at work—snorting, whirring, and clattering. There was the canopy above the royal seat, and adorned with its golden cornice and fringe, and with a small plume of blue and white feathers at each of its angles. The floors were no longer strewn, but clean and matted, and at each corner of the central square, stages had been raised for the most illustrious visitors. As you glanced down the avenues, objects of exquisite texture, form, or colour, everywhere saluted the eye. From the top of the galleries were hung huge carpets and pieces of tapestry, gorgeous in their tints, and exquisite in their designs. Here was reared, high towards the crystal roof, the “Spitalfields trophy,” from the top of which hung the richest silks, with their glossy colours variegated with tints and forms of surpassing beauty; and looking still farther down the nave, the eye could just catch sight of the colossal mirror, set in its massive gilt frame, and mounted on crimson cloth. At every corner were statues, made doubly white by the scarlet drapery arranged behind them, while immediately at the back of the throne were two equestrian statues of the Prince and Queen, one on either side. Behind these was another fountain, that made the stream, as it rushed up from the centre and divided itself into a hundred drops, flashing in the sun as they fell, look like a shower of silver sparks—a kind of fire-work of water; and beside this rose the green plumage of the palm-trees embedded in moss, while close at their feet was ranged a bed of flowers, whose tints seemed to have been dyed