DUBLIN . . . For the first time since the Committee of Management decided to open the Art Gallery and Concert Hall on Sunday afternoons visitors were admitted yesterday from two o'clock till seven. The attendance in the early part of the afternoon was not encouraging, but from five o'clock on till the closing hour, the number of visitors greatly increased. The Art Gallery was the chief resort.

It was well filled by interested spectators, who admired the works of some of the great masters. The Irish section had special attraction for many, and the ancient Irish manuscripts and uniforms were carefully examined, and revived memories of events which have found an abiding place in the history of the country.

In the Concert Hall the fine band of the Royal Engineers performed from two o'clock till half past four, and again from five o'clock till seven.

The first performance was not very largely attended, but the later one drew together a number sufficient to crowd the hall. It seems that the idea of opening on Sunday was mainly to afford the working classes who are unable to visit the Exhibition on the other days of the week an opportunity of at least seeing a portion of it on Sunday afternoons. The new departure is in the nature of an experiment, which yesterday's attendance of that class may not be regarded as fully justifying.

Workingmen there were, no doubt, among the visitors, but nothing at all probably like the number it was anticipated would take advantage of the facilities offered to them. From the point of view of the Committee of Management, it is not hopeful to find the Sunday opening is meeting with general approval.

Protests have, it is understood, been lodged against it by clergymen in the neighbourhood. To what extent these may affect the experiment is a matter of uncertainty at present, but doubtless they will receive careful consideration.

Freeman's Journal
3 June 1857

MANIA POTU . . . An unfortunate victim of this terrible disease was sent to the City Hospital yesterday.
He was a stranger, and his name could not be ascertained. He was found in the streets, with his hat, boots, and pockets full of snakes, which he was endeavouring to shake off, at the same time uttering the most unearthly shrieks. He was taken at first to the calaboose, and put in a dark room, whereupon the snakes all left him, but his brain still teemed with horrid images.

At one time he imagined himself in the hold of a ship which was sinking, and nearly tore the nails from his fingers in his frantic efforts to climb out. Next he imagined himself roasting before a slow fire, with the Indians dancing their wardance and singing their death songs around him.

Anon, he fancied that the American eagle had clutched him in his talons, and to prevent being borne away and devoured, he grasped the bars of his prison like a vice, and screamed for help. When the calaboose keeper went in to bring him out, for the purpose of sending him to the hospital, he again imagined himself confined in the hold of a ship, and complained grievously that he could not get ashore. On being brought out into the light he was immediately infested by snakes again, and the officers, for the purpose of being able to carry him along quietly, had to tie a handkerchief over his head.

This unfortunate victim to alcohol is quite a young man, scarcely 20 years of age.

St Louis Leader