I returned to Dublin in 1853, on the 10th of May, and had the pleasure of witnessing the opening of the Great Industrial Exhibition in Merrion Square on the 12th. It was a great success, and caused a very considerable influx of visitors to Dublin, not merely from other parts of the United Kingdom, but also from the continent of Europe, and even more distant regions. It is unnecessary to dilate on the beneficial tendency of such displays to awaken tastes and excite emulation in reference to artistic productions of beauty or utility, for it is almost universally acknowledged; but I am convinced that they produce very salutary effects by bringing each class of society into the view and under the observation of the others, approximating without confounding them, requiring no relinquishment of rank or undue familiarity. The building in which the exhibition was held was erected at the personal expense of William Dargan, and cost £26,000. A statue, on the pedestal of which "Dargan" is inscribed, now stands upon the scene of his patriotic liberality. No other inscription is requisite to have his generosity acknowledged and his memory revered by his countrymen. Previous to the opening in 1853, it was suggested in the public press and at the sittings of the committee, that as the inauguration of the English exhibition in 1851 had been accompanied by a prayer for the occasion, offered by a prelate of the highest rank, a similar course should be observed in Dublin. However, the opening here was not attended by any ecclesiastical demonstration, and some few of the spectators considered the omission culpable. At the close of the ceremony, three or four young men passed out at the same time that my brother magistrate, James Magee, and I were leaving. There was no indication as to the religious denomination to which they belonged, but we were greatly amused at the zealous and fervent piety of one who designated the omission of prayer, on such an occasion, as "a d----d shame." The Dublin Exhibition of 1853 continued open until the end of October, and during that time there was only one charge brought for magisterial investigation from within its limits, and it was preferred before me. There was a portion of the building termed the "Medieval Court," and a man was accused of stealing, in that place, a coat belonging to a person employed on the premises. He confessed his guilt, and I awarded him two months' imprisonment with hard labor for the unlawful possession of the article. This solitary offence would, perhaps, have lapsed from my memory but for the total ignorance of the term "medieval" evinced by the parties concerned, for they all spoke of the transaction as having occurred in the "_middle evil court_."