THE OPENING or LONDON BarnoE.—The preparations for this fete were

not entirely completed until mid-day on Monday. We shall endeavour to describe the whole as distinctly as possible, so that our readers in the country, or at least such of them as happen to know Lon- don, may be able to form a tolerably correct notion of it.

First, of the bridge itself. On the square space at the northern ex- tremity of the roadway, was pitched a very lofty marquee, for the ac- commodation of the Royal Family and the more distinguished of the guests. From the front of this marquee, a very long tent, or awning, stretched along the bridge, covering and protecting the tables arranged for the visitors of custom and the less noticeable throng. The square at the northern end was given up to the indefatigable Mr. Green and his balloon; and, when he had ascended, it was left open to allow the Sove- reign and his brilliant suite to inspect the massive pile ; strong barriers being placed at the extremity, to prevent the populace from intruding upon it. The preparations at the other end of the line were less ambitions: they consisted merely of a gangway under the large archway at the west end of Somerset House, covered with baize, and, where it was topped by the arch, canopied with flags. The gangway reached, on the land side, to the up- per part of the slope leading down to the archway, and projected, on the water side, a few yards beyond the low-water line. About midway down the outer portion, a recess was formed on each side, where sentries were placed ; and there were a couple of policemen at the same spot, whose position was to the spectators the subject of equal envy and mystery. Sir Byam Martin had charge of the River; and his arrangements were simple and effectual: One hundred and fifty barges were first of all moored head and stern in a line with the North shore ; a space of one hundred and fifty feet was then measured off in the middle of the stream, and a second line of one hundred and fifty barges moored parallel to the first. In this way, from Waterloo Bridge to London Bridge, the river was divided into three channels,—one on the north side, which, being the deeper, wasalso the narrower, formed by the wharfs and the first line of barges; one on the south, formed in a similar way by the wharfs and the second line ; and the central channel between thb two. A very large space was thus left on each side for the passage of small boats up and down the river— the passage was stopped,for the day, to large boats—without trespassing on the fair-way down which the procession was to move. The barges which formed the line for the procession, we ought to premise, were of a very different kind from those that formed the procession itself. The former were the common hacks of the river,—the bearers of casks and coals, and baser matters. They were indeed emptied of their ordinary cargoes, and covered with scaffolds, and not a few accommodated with awnings and decorated with flags : but their finery was in marked sub- ordination to their utility; and for their charms, we might parody the compliment that Sir John Denham has paid to the stream on whose breast they reposed, and say- " Search not the vessels, but survey the crew."

And indeed it would not have been easy, out of England or out of England's capital, to assemble so bright a combination of youth and beauty and joyousness as the decks of these hulks presented throughout the long but not wearisome length of their gay and glittering lines. The double range of barges was, however, the smallest part of the won- derful sight.

In-shore of these, there flitted thousands and tens of thousands of wher- ries, each freighted with happy human beings : on the banks on each side, in the warehouses and dwelling-houses, from top to bottom, windows and roofs, nay in the very slimy bed of the river itself—wherever a peep could be obtained, there were men and women and children clustering and crowding like bees at hiving-time. To those who surveyed the river from Waterloo Bridge to Blackfriars, it appeared as if the Thames could suffer no addition to the burden that pleasure had imposed upon him. His waters appeared to shrink under the violence with which they were embraced. But when the eye was directed to the space between Blackfriars and Southwark Bridges, the multitudes which before seemed too great to be augmented, dwindled into insignificance ; while yet far. ther on, between Southwark Bridge and London Bridge, " the files still deepened and the heads still grew," defying enumeration and perplexing belief. There were here and there, along the banks, some " coignes of vantage," which stood out from the rest. Among these, the most conspi- cuous was the slope of the Temple Gardens, and next to it the terrace at Somerset House, both covered with an array of beauty such as no man might gaze on who meant to pass a night of unbroken slumber during the rest of his earthly pilgrimage.

For the Bridges themselves—we have spoken of the Bridge which was

about to he opened on Monday—but how are we to describe those that were open the day before ? As early as four o'clock in the morning, some of the more enthusiastic had taken their place by the eastern para- pet of Waterloo ; by six o'clock, there were hundreds assembled ; by nine o'clock, the hundreds had swelled to thousands. The least provi- dent brought materials for breakfast ; some for both breakfast and din- ner ; and not a few of the more persevering breakfasted, dined, and drank tea, on the bencheS and balustrades of the bridge. From the gate to the centre, vehicles of every kind that ready occasion offered were ranged close to the footway, on which, according to their means and the degree of the accommodation, those who chose to pay the fare, stood or sat, •

" The livelong day with patient expectation To see good William pass along the Thames."

Blackfriars Bridge was crowded on both sides ; but the increased thoroughfare consequent on the temporary shutting up of London Bridge tended to keep down the crowd of gazers. What Blackfriars lacked in this respect, Southwark amply supplied. It, as well as London Bridge, had been shut to vehicles of every kind ; and it was in conse- quence loaded with human beings, until its very heart of cast iron was moved within it, and every joint quaked and groaned under the burden that it bore. The New Bridge, with all its stateliness and bravery— with its towering dome, and its long-drawn aisle of tent-work, and its flags flaring in the breeze—was the only joyless-looking piece of nature or art in the whole of the gaudy show. The lack of human beings, while every spot below, around, beside, was instinct with life and motion, made von blind, for the moment, to the elegance and power displayed in the mighty fabric • and its nicely-chiselled granite masses, in their cold- ness and stillness, inspired more lively emotions than they would have done in the rugged solitude of their native quarries. It might have been imagined that all London had taken to the water; but the myriads of London are not easily exhausted. Tens of thousands of eager individuals, who came to see, but could not, flowed back into the line of the Strand, of Cockspur Street, and Pall Mall ; and, ranging themselves in long and dense files, took comfort for the loss of the pro- cession, by gazing on the benevolent faces of that good and gracious pair who were to form its chiefest attraction.

About twelve o'clock, the various barges and boats which were de- signed to convey the Ring and his brilliant cortege began to assemble. The waving flags and glittering canopies and gilded prows, and the; mingling of gay colours in the exteriors and interiors, together with the picturesque dresses of the rowers, rentleted the gathering of these skim- mers of a summer sea an exceedingly pretty sight ; and the more so, from the lively contrast that they formed to the sombre and shapeless and inert masses that marked out their line of march. About one o'clock, the earliest party were seen tripping down the gangway, to which we have already alluded, and the headmost barge received her cheerful freightage. From one to two, the company arrived in quick succession, and by the latter hour they had all embarked. They remained, some idly floating

on the water, some hanging on by one or other of the stationary vessels,

some slowly paddling up and down the fair-way waiting for his Majesty's arrival. Three o'clock drew near, and every eye was turned upwards to

the dome of Somerset House, watching for the moment when the hoist-

ing of the standard of England should give the signal of the Royal ap- proach. The clock struck, and by and by there was a sound heard in

the far distance ; it gathered as it advanced ; and now it roared like the rushing of many waters—the flag sprung to the top of the staff— William the Fourth was come ! In a minute. two gentlemen were seen

emerging from the archway ; they had stars on their breasts—could either be the King ?They advanced, and showed the bluff, good- natured countenance of. the Duke of Sussex, and the grey moustache of the Duke of Cumberland. In half a minute more, a shout from the crowd at the foot of the stairs, who had caught a glimpse of their per. sons while yet hidden by the archway from those that were perched on the Bridge, heralded the Royal pair ; and, at that instant, the King came forth into the light, the Queen leaning on his right arm, and Earl Grey walking uncovered on his left.

Their Majesties were evidently much gratified—how, indeed, could

they otherwise be ? lire speak moderately, when we say that at that mo- nient, two hundred thousand eyes were turned towards them, and not one " aspect malign" in all the number. The pathway by which the King approached the river was well contrived for effect. The low. browed arch slopes rapidly downward ; and until the party emerged from beneath it, the river was almost hidden from the view; so that the immense chain of boats and barges, with their flags and pennons waving• in the wind, and crowded from. stem to stern with smiling faces— the farther shores of the stream—the parapets of the bridge, with its overhanging thousands—the whole of this living picture glittering under a dazzling sun, shooting down its rays through a bright blue summer sky—burst at once on their sight ! The King, as soon as he came for- ward, took off his hat ; nor did he resume it until he was about to step into the boat. When the whole party had embarked, the royal barge set forth, slowly, peacefully, and orderly, like the progress of the beneficent Monarch whom it bore. Why need we tell of the waving of white handkerchiefs and whiter arms that accompanied his progress, and of the merry tinkle of a hundred chimes, and of the booming of guns, and the alternate rise and fall of human voices, like the roar of the ocean after a storm ; or of the brad and concentrated shout that broke on the ears of the listeners, like a solitary peal of distant thunder, and told of the King's arrival at the termination of his brief and brilliant voyage) ? And why need we tell how Mr. Routh handed on shore the King, and Mr. Jones the Queen ; and how Mr. Green, a loftier aspirant than

• ' either, left the Bridge and the banquet to Aldermen and Councilmen,

••1, • and soared aloft to take tea with Miss Moon, in his way to sup with General Mars ? Neither must we speak of turtle, chickens, hams, jellies, custards. If we have fail !d, as we fear we have, to give an adequate description of the outer show, how shall we approach the inner ? If Father Thames and his water have proved too potent for us, how shall we grapple with Father Leech and his wine? We abandon to our more ambitious brethren the description of the feats of the congregated worthies of the Guildhall on the glorious 1st of August. For ourselves, we have, for many weeks past, been so be:. . mend with the forty-jaw-power of Mr. Croker and Sir Charles ° Wetherell, in another way, that we have lost all relish' for jaw ex- ploits, even of the most distinguished individuals, in any way. As, however, the procession, though in reality the great feature of the ffite, was, after all, but a means to an end—lest cur description might be looked on as a speech of Mr. Alexander Baring, but a long passage lead. e ing to nothing, we give the following account of the mere business part •

of the ceremony, from the Leading Daily Journal.

Upon reaching the top of the Bridge stairs, the sword and keys of the City were /mitred to his Majesty by the Lord Mayor. His Majesty was graciously pleased e. • to return them to the Lord Mayor, and to signify his wish that they should remain is ' in his Lordship's bands. The Chairman of the Committee then presented his Ma- jesty with a gold medal, commemorative of the opening of the Bridge, having on we. one side an impression of the King's bead, and on the other, a well-executed view et) of the hew Bridge, with the dates of the present ceremony, and of the laying of the si /first stoae As to su as these formalities were completed, and the whole of the Royal party had assembled in the Pavilion, their Majesties proceeded to the end of the Bridge. -Their Majesties were attended by 'their :loyal Highnesses the Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex, and by the principal members of the Royal Family. The officers of the Royal Household, nearly all the Ministers, and a vast number of the nobility, and $ of the members of the House of Commons, composed the Royal procession. In going to and returning from the Sorry end of the Bridge, their Majesties threw medals to the spectators on each side of them. His Majesty's progress from one end of the Bridge to the other was, we sup- pose, considered as the opening of the Bridge. After the conclusion of this cere- enony, their Majesties and the Royal suite returned to the Pavilion, where a cold collation was laid out. A similar repast was served up to the guests at all the other tables. This banquet was conducted upon a scale of profu;eness that was remarkable even in civic feasts; which, as every body knows. are notorious, even to a proverb, for their magnificent display of abundance of good things. The wine, which was extremely good, flowed more freely even than the guests desired; and although ca- terers for the palate work at manifest disadvantage when their inventive powers have only cold materials to work upon, yet Mr. Leech of the London Coffeehouse, 'silo furnished this collation, proved himself yesterday to be an artiste of no ordi- nary stamp. On the right of the King were seated the Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke of Sussex, the Duchess of Cambridge, the Duchess of Saxe Weimar, and Prince George of Cumberland. On the left of his Majesty sat the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland, and Prince George of Cambridge. Mr. Jones was in attendance be- hind the King's chair, and Mr. Routh stood behind that of the Queen. As soon as their Majesties had concluded their repast, the Lord Mayor said—

His Most Gracious Majesty has condescended to permit me to propose a toast. I therefore do myself the high honour to propose that we drink hie Most Gracious Majesty's health with four times four."

The company rose, and after cheering in the most enthusiastic manner, sang the =time anthem of "God save the King." Sir C. S. Hunter then said—" I am honoured with the permission of his Majesty to propose a toast. I therefore beg all his good subjects here assembled to rise and to drink' Una health and every blessing may attend her Majesty the Queen." The Lord Mayor then presented wine in a gold cup of great beauty to the King; who said, taring the cup—"I cannot but refer on this occasion to the great work -which has been accomplished by the citizens of London. The city of London has been renowned for its magnificent improvements, and we are commemorating a most extraordinary instance of their skill and talent. I shall propose the source from whence this vast improvement :prune, 'The trade and commerce of the city of London.' " The King then drank of what is called the Loving Cup ; of which every other member of the Royal Family partook.

His Majesty next drank the health of the Lord Mayor and the Lady Mayoress.

Soon after this toast was drunk, the King rose, and, bowing to the company, in- timated his intention to bid farewell. The Chairman and the whole of the Commit- tee followed the King to the Royal barge.

At six o'clock, the Monarch left the Bridge. His progress up the River was as loudly cheered as his progress down ; not less than half a million of the sons and daughters of great London welcoming the one, as they had welcomed the other, with greetings that came from the heart and went to it; for they were the greetings of honest sincerity bestowed upon a patriot King. The procession homeward was even more brilliant than that which accompanied his Majesty to the Bridge, the various barges of the City Companies having then left their positions near the New Bridge, and joined in the gay train. The multitudes that still lingered in the Strand cheered loud and long as the cavalcade passed rapidly along, and then withdrew to their homes, with recollections treasured up for the amusement of the winter evenings of the next score of years.

There was no rain during the continuance of the long bright days from the morning down to the period of the Royal party's returning to the Palace,—once, and once only, it threatened a shower. Neither, ex. cept in one instance, did any accident happen to mar the enjoyment of a single individual. One young man was killed by falling from a wharf; but the accident was the result of the wantonness or wickedness of another spectator, and had not the slightest necessary connexion with the events of the day.

The New Bridge was opened on Tuesday to the public, about two hundred thousaed of whom passed over (rem the London side. Officers, were stationed. in the neighbourhood, and no depredation was attempted. The awning and the tables were in tht•ir places, but the tables were stripped of all their decorations. On Wednesday the external ornaments were still allowed to remain,, and the public passed over the bridge as on the preceding clay. It was fully and finally opened on Thursday.

The following particulars of the new bridge are abridged from Thomp- son's Chronicles.

" The elevation of the bridge consists of five elliptical arches, of which the cen-

tral one is 152 feet in span, and feet 6 inches in height. 'The piers on each side of this arch are 24 feet in width. The arches on each side of the centre arch are 140 feet span, and 27 feet 6 inches rise. The piers between these and the land arches are ad feet each. The extreme arches nearest to the shores are 130 feet each, and 2-I feet 6 inches rise. The abutments of the bridge are 73 feet each at the base. At each extremity, and on both sides of the new bridge, are two straight flights of stairs 22 feet wide, leading to and from the water. " The total width of the water-way is 692 feet ; the length of the brides including the abutments 928 feet ; the length within the abutments 78e feet; the width of the bridge from outside to outside of the parapet 16 feet ; the width of the carriage way 36 feet, and of each footpath nine feet ; and the total height of the bridge, on the eastern side, above low-water mark, 55 feet.

" The foundations of the piers are formed of pile.s, which are chiefly of beech- wood, pointed with iron, and driven to a depth of nearly twenty fret into the stiff blue clay that forms the bed of the river. On the hea:Is of these piles are laid two rows of horizontal sleepers, about twelve inches square, which are covered with beech planking six inches thick, on which is constructed the lowermost coarse of masonry.

"According to Hawksmoor, who surveyed it with And for Sir Christopher Wren, the width of the river at the old bridge was 9e0 feet across, and that of the water- way was only 190 feet of this width below the starlings, and 450 feet above at the time of high tides. A more recent survey, however, made by ;'dr. NV111411.11 Knight, the assistant engineer to the bridge, in 1624, previous to the ednunencement of the new works, gives the water-way between the piers above the starlings as 524 feet, the solids occupied by the piers 407 feet, the water-way between the starlings at low water 231 feet, and the space occupied by the piers and starlings 700 feet; the water-way of the new bridge will be e9a feet at any time of the tide."

The first stone of the New Bridge was laid on the 15th June 1825 ;- the undertaking having been commenced in March 1824. The en. tire cost of the bridge, with the approaches, will be about 1,700,0001. The King is made to say, that the Bridge sprang from the commerce and trade of the City of London. This must be a mistake of the re- porter : the greater part of the expense is defrayed by an infamous tax on coals, to which the half of the surrounding country contributes, and the rest by the Bridge-house estates. The commerce and trade of Lon- don are barely sufficient for its banquets; its bridges must be supported from other sources.

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