unlike America: there are linnets, that pipe beautifully; finches, thrushes, and others, that fill the air with their warblings; skylarks, that rise in regular circles high into the air, singing beautifully, till lost to vision; rooks, that caw solemnly, and gather in conclaves on trees and roofs. Nature seems trying to cover the poverty and squalor that disfigures the land with a mantle of her own luxuriance and beauty.

Blarney Castle is a good specimen of an old ruin of that description for the newly-arrived tourist to visit, as it will come up to his expectation in many respects, in appearance, as to what he imagined a ruined castle to be, from books and pictures. It is a fine old building, clad inside and out with ivy, situated near a river of the same name, and on a high limestone rock; it was built in the year 1300. In the reign of Elizabeth it was the strongest fortress in Munster, and at different periods has withstood regular sieges; it was demolished, all but the central tower, in the year 1646.

The celebrated Blarney Stone is about two feet below the summit of the tower, and held in its place by iron stanchions; and as one is obliged to lie at full length, and stretch over the verge of the parapet, having a friend to hold upon your lower limbs, for fear an accidental slip or giddiness may send you a hundred feet below, it may be imagined that the act of kissing the Blarney Stone is not without its perils. However, that duty performed, and a charming view enjoyed of the rich undulating country from the summit, and inspection made of some of the odd little turret chambers of the tower, and loopholes for archery, we descended, gratified the old woman who acts as key-bearer by crossing her palm with silver, strolled amid the beautiful groves of Blarney for a brief period, and finally rattled off again in our jaunting-cars over the romantic road.

The Shelborne House, Dublin, is a hotel after the American style, a good Fifth Avenue sort of affair, clean, and well kept, and opposite a beautiful park (Stephens Green). Americans will find this to be a house that will suit their tastes and desires as well, if not better, than any other in Dublin. Sackville Street, in Dublin, is said to be one of the finest streets in Europe. I cannot agree with the guide-books in this opinion, although, standing on Carlisle Bridge, and looking down this broad avenue, with the Nelson Monument, one hundred and ten feet in height, in the centre, and its stately stores on each side, it certainly has a very fine appearance. Here I first visited shops on the other side of the water, and the very first thing that strikes an American is the promptness with which he is served, the civility with which he is treated, the immense assortment and variety of goods, and the effort of the salesmen to do everything to accommodate the purchaser. They seem to say, by their actions, "We are put here to attend to buyers' wants; to serve them, to wait upon them, to make the goods and the establishment attractive; to sell goods, and we want to sell goods." On the other hand, in our own country the style and manner of the clerks is too often that of "I'm just as good, and a little better, than you—buy, if you want, or leave—we don't care whether we sell or not—it's a condescension to inform you of our prices; don't expect any attention."

The variety of goods in the foreign shops is marvellous to an American; one pattern or color not suiting, dozens of others are shown, or anything will be made at a few hours' notice.

Here in Dublin are the great Irish poplin manufactures; and in these days of high prices, hardly any American lady leaves Dublin without a dress pattern, at least, of this elegant material, which can be obtained in the original packages of the "Original Jacobs" of the trade, Richard Atkinson, in College Green, whose front store is a gallery of medals and appointments, as poplin manufacturer to members of royal families for years and years. The ladies of my party were crazy with delight over the exquisite hues, the splendid quality, the low prices—forgetting, dear creatures, the difference of exchange, and the then existing premium on gold, and sixty per cent. duty that had to be added to the rate before the goods were paid for in America. Notwithstanding the stock, the hue to match the pattern a lady had in her pocket was not to be had.

"We can make you a dress, if you can wait, madam," said the polite shopman, "of exactly the same color as your sample."

"How long will it take to make it?"

"We can deliver it to you in eight or ten days."

"O, I shall be in London then," said the lady.

"That makes no difference, madam. We will deliver it to you anywhere in London, carriage free."

And so, indeed, it was delivered. The order was left, sent to the factory by the shopman, and at the appointed time delivered in London, the lady paying on delivery the same rate as charged for similar quality of goods at the store in Dublin, and having the enviable satisfaction of showing the double poplin that was "made expressly to her order"—one dress pattern—"in Dublin."

I mention this transaction to show what pains are taken to suit the purchaser, and how any one can get what he wants abroad, if he has the means to pay.

This is owing chiefly to the different way of doing business, and also to the sharper competition in the old countries. For instance, the Pacific Mills, of Lawrence, Mass., would never think of opening a retail store for the sale of their goods on Washington Street, Boston; and if an English lady failed to find a piece of goods of the color that suited her, of manufacturing sixteen or eighteen yards to her order, and then sending it, free of express charge, to New York.

The quantity and variety of goods on hand are overwhelming; the prices, in comparison with ours, so very low that I wanted to buy a ship-load. Whole stores are devoted to specialities—the beautiful Irish linen in every variety, Irish bog-wood carving in every conceivable form, bracelets, rings, figures, necklaces, breast-pins, &c. I visited one large establishment, where every species of dry goods, fancy goods, haberdashery, and, I think, everything except eatables, were sold. Three hundred and fifty salesmen were employed, the proprietors boarding and lodging a large number of them on the premises.

The shops in Dublin are very fine, the prices lower than in London, and the attendance excellent.

"But Dublin—are you going to describe Dublin?"

Not much, dear reader. Describing cities would only be copying the guide-book, or doing what every newspaper correspondent thinks it necessary to do. Now, if I can think of a few unconsidered trifles, which correspondents do not write about, but which tourists, on their first visit, always wish information about, I shall think it doing a service to present them in these sketches.

The Nelson Monument, a Doric column of one hundred and ten feet high, upon which is a statue eleven feet high of the hero of the Nile, always attracts the attention of visitors. The great bridges over the Liffey, and the quays, are splendid pieces of workmanship, and worth inspection, and of course you will go to see Dublin Castle.

This castle was originally built by order of King John, about the year 1215. But little of it remains now, however, except what is known as the Wardrobe Tower, all the present structure having been built since the seventeenth century. Passing in through the great castle court-yard, a ring at a side door brought a courteous English housekeeper, who showed us through the state apartments. Among the most noteworthy of these was the presence-chamber, in which is a richly-carved and ornamental throne, frescoed ceilings, richly-upholstered furniture, &c., the whole most strikingly reminding one