the leaders, who galloped in advance for some distance with a view to the preservation of the mournful silence that had prevailed.  This was strictly enjoined, and the instruction was generally observed by the processionists.  The reverential manner in which the many thousands of the people passed the statue of the Liberator was very observable.  A rather heavy rain was falling at the time, yet there were thousands who uncovered their heads as they looked up to the statue which expressed the noble attitude and features of O’Connell.  As the procession moved along through Dame-street the footways became blocked up, and lines of cabs took up places in the middle of the carriageway, and the police exercised a wise discretion in preventing vehicles from the surrounding streets driving in amongst the crowds.  By this means the danger of serious accident was prevented without any public inconvenience being occasioned, as a line parallel to that which the procession was taking was kept clear for all horse conveyances.  Owing to the hour growing late, and a considerable distance still to be gone over, the procession moved at a quick pace.  In anticipation of its arrival great crowds collected in the vicinity of the Bank of Ireland and Trinity College, where the cortege was kept well together, notwithstanding the difficulty of such a vast mass passing on through the heart of the city filled at this point with immense masses of spectators.  Oil passing the old Parliament-house numbers of men in the procession took of their hats, but the disposition to cheer was suppressed, as it was at several other points along the route.  Turning down Westmoreland-street, the procession, marshalled by Dr. Waters on horseback, passed slowly along between the thick files of people on each side, most of whom displayed the mourning and national symbols, black and green.  The spacious thoroughfare in a few minutes was filled with the dense array, which in close compact ranks pressed on, the women, youths, and children, bearing bravely the privations of the day, the bands preceding and following the hearses playing the Dead March, the solemn notes filling the air with mournful cadence.  The windows of the houses on each side of the street were filled with groups of spectators of the strange and significant spectacle below.  With the dark masses of men, broken at intervals by the groups of females and children, still stretched lengthily in the rere, the first section of the procession crossed Carlisle-bridge, the footways and parapets of which were thronged with people, nearly all of whom wore the usual tokens of sympathy.  Passing the bridge, a glance to the right, down the river, revealed the fact that the ships, almost without exception, had their flags flying half mast high, and that the rigging of several were filled with seamen, who chose this elevated position to get a glimpse of the procession as it emerged into Sackville-street.  Here the sight was imposing.  A throng of spectators lined