of the Parliament being restored, but found, rather to my surprise, that the attendant was by no means disposed to regard such a step with unqualified approval.  It would be a blessing if the country was fit to govern itself, he said, or words to that effect, but looking at the religious dissension and political bitterness existing in the country, he feared that it wouldn’t do yet a while; and I suspect he’s right.  Ireland is a house divided against itself:  fifty years hence it may resemble Scotland.  Meanwhile, there is no doubt whatever that a measure giving both Ireland and Scotland something in the nature of State legislatures would find favor with many English M.P.s, who greatly grudge having the valuable time of the imperial legislature wasted over a gas-bill in Tipperary or a water-works scheme for Dundee.  The bank seemed to me to be guarded with extraordinary care.  I went all over the roof, on which a guard is mounted at night.  At “coigns of vantage” there is a bullet-proof palisading, with peepholes through which a volley of musketry might be poured.  I should fancy that extra precautions have probably been taken since the Fenian emeutes of the last ten years.

Dublin swarms with soldiers, constabulary and police.  The metropolitan police is divided into six divisions, each two hundred strong.  Its men are, I believe, beyond a doubt the very finest in the world in point of physique.  Numbers of them are six feet two or three inches high, and they are broad and athletic in proportion.  Indeed, the magnificence of some of them who are detached for duty at certain “great confluences of human existence” is such that you see strangers standing and gaping at the giants in sheer amazement.  The metropolitan police is quite distinct from the constabulary, and under a different chief.

Outside the bank, in College Green, is the celebrated statue of William III.  Its location has been more than once changed, and it is now placed where the officer on guard at the bank can keep an eye upon it.  This fearful object, which would make a Pradier or Chantrey shudder, is painted and gilt annually.  It has long served as a bone of contention between Protestant and Papist, and has come off very badly several times at the hands of the latter—­a circumstance which probably accounts for one of the horse’s legs being about a foot longer than the rest—­half of that limb having been renewed after it had been lost in one of the many free fights in which this remarkable quadruped has seen service.  The greatest proprietor of real estate in Dublin is the young earl of Pembroke, son of the late Right Hon. Sidney Herbert, so well known in connection with the Crimean war, who was created, shortly before his death, Lord Herbert of Lea.  His estate, which is the most valuable in Ireland, comprises Merrion Square and all the most fashionable part of the Irish metropolis, and extends for several miles along the railway line running from Kingstown, the landing-place