every corner of the civilised world--and his efforts
were rewarded. On May 1, 1851, the Great Exhibition was opened by the
Queen before an enormous concourse of persons, amid scenes of dazzling
brilliancy and triumphant enthusiasm.

Victoria herself was in a state of excitement which bordered on
delirium. She performed her duties in a trance of joy, gratitude, and
amazement, and, when it was all over, her feelings poured themselves out
into her journal in a torrential flood. The day had been nothing but
an endless succession of glories--or rather one vast glory--one vast
radiation of Albert. Everything she had seen, everything she had felt
or heard, had been so beautiful, so wonderful that even the royal
underlinings broke down under the burden of emphasis, while her
remembering pen rushed on, regardless, from splendour to splendour--the
huge crowds, so well--behaved and loyal-flags of all the nations
floating--the inside of the building, so immense, with myriads of people
and the sun shining through the roof--a little side room, where we left
our shawls--palm-trees and machinery--dear Albert--the place so big
that we could hardly hear the organ--thankfulness to God--a curious
assemblage of political and distinguished men--the March from
Athalie--God bless my dearest Albert, God bless my dearest country!--a
glass fountain--the Duke and Lord Anglesey walking arm in arm--a
beautiful Amazon, in bronze, by Kiss--Mr. Paxton, who might be justly
proud, and rose from being a common gardener's boy--Sir George Grey in
tears, and everybody astonished and delighted.

A striking incident occurred when, after a short prayer by the
Archbishop of Canterbury, the choir of 600 voices burst into the
"Hallelujah Chorus." At that moment a Chinaman, dressed in full national
costume, stepped out into the middle of the central nave, and, advancing
slowly towards the royal group, did obeisance to Her Majesty. The Queen,
much impressed, had no doubt that he was an eminent mandarin; and,
when the final procession was formed, orders were given that, as
no representative of the Celestial Empire was present, he should be
included in the diplomatic cortege. He accordingly, with the utmost
gravity, followed immediately behind the Ambassadors. He subsequently
disappeared, and it was rumoured, among ill-natured people, that, far
from being a mandarin, the fellow was a mere impostor. But nobody ever
really discovered the nature of the comments that had