"Think o' that, sir! Ye might be as brave as Julyus Sayzer in the English army, and sorra a rise would ye get, except ye'd be sated on a powdher magazine whin it exploded."
The legend is, that this church was originally built by St. Patrick, and the sexton took me into a little old crypt at the end of one of the aisles of the nave—all that remains of that portion of the church, which it is averred was built A. D. 540. This crypt was floored with curious old tiles, over a thousand years old, put down and the fragments matched together with great labor and expense, and the flooring worth more money than a covering of an "aven layer o' guineas" upon it.
The old stone font, A. D. 1190, the old carved chest for vestments, and the curious stone coffins, relics of the old church, were interesting. Among the monuments in the church, Archbishop Whately's magnificently-carved marble sarcophagus, surmounted by his full-length effigy, was particularly noticeable; Swift's monument, Stella's tablet, and the economical tablet put up in memory of Duke Schomberg by Swift.
Here in St. Patrick's Cathedral are displayed the stalls, arms, and banners of the Knights of St. Patrick, the army "memorials" of the India and China British regiments, with the flags they carried from 1852 to 1857 in their campaigns. Upon the wall was suspended the cannon shot that killed Schomberg at the memorable battle of the Boyne in 1690, and the spurs that he wore at the time. Schomberg's remains are interred at Westminster Abbey.
My first ride in an old country park was in the Phœnix Park, Dublin a—beautiful pleasure-ground of over eighteen hundred acres in extent. I imagined how laughable it must have seemed to the Prince of Wales, when, at the review he attended on Boston Common, he politely assented to the remark of a militia officer, that "this great area" (the Common parade ground) "was well adapted for displays of large bodies of troops," as I sat looking at the parade ground of this park, a clear, unbroken greensward of six times the size.
Think of riding over drives or malls fifty feet wide, and from three to five miles in length, lined with gas-lights to illuminate it at night, herds of hundreds of deer sporting on the open sward, or under the great, sturdy trees, which are grouped in twos, threes, or clusters, for landscape effect, and the turf beneath them thick, green, and luxuriant; and then, again, there are rustic, country-like roads, shady dells, and rustic paths in the beautiful park; a great monument erected to Wellington by his countrymen at a cost of one hundred thousand pounds, will attract attention, and so will the numerous fashionable turnouts that roll over the well-kept roads every pleasant spring afternoon.
From Dublin to Kingston is a pleasant little ride by rail. Kingston is on St. George's Channel, or the lower part of the Irish Sea, and directly opposite Holyhead, Wales. At Kingston we took steamer for the passage across. The steamers of this line carry the royal mail, are built for strength and speed, and are splendid boats, of immense power, said to be the strongest and swiftest in Great Britain, and run at the rate of sixteen miles an hour. Fortunately, the passage was comparatively a smooth one, and we disembarked in good condition upon the opposite shore, where we took train for Chester. An English railway carriage—its form is familiar to all from frequent description; but think of the annoyance of having to look after your luggage, to see it safely bestowed on the top of the car, or in a luggage van, and to be obliged to look out that it is not removed by mistake at any of the great stations you do not stop at, or that it is removed when you do stop.
A few words on railway travelling in England: it differs from ours essentially. First, the cars on English roads are not so convenient, comfortable, or even so private as the American car. In the English first-class carriage, four persons must sit facing four persons; consequently four must perforce ride backwards, and the four are placed so as to stare directly at their opposite neighbors,—sometimes unpleasant, if all are not acquainted, especially at lunch time, &c. Then, in the English carriage, four persons only of the eight can get a fair view of the scenery, and two of these are riding backwards. These four "govern" the windows, and lower or close at their pleasure. I have been nearly smothered, as well as thoroughly chilled, by happening to have people of adverse temperaments get the window seats, till I learned how to travel by rail in England, of which, hints anon.
There are no means of heating the English railway carriage, and they are not tightly joined, especially the second-class ones. Hence the "railway rugs," &c., one hears so much about. But then, it must be confessed, the danger of the American stove renders it a rather unpopular affair. The second-class car is a plain, substantial carriage, and the larger portion of the passengers travel in it. The first-class car is more luxurious, upholstered more plentifully, supplied with racks for light baggage, and curtains at the windows. The English have not even reached the improvement of the sliding blind, which we have in America, so useful in excluding the sun's rays and admitting the air, the substitute being a flapping silk curtain. The second-class car has no curtain or shade to the window whatever. The absence of the signal rope is noticeable, and no man nowadays will remain in an English railway carriage, if one or two other men come in that he does not know. Is it not singular that so simple an arrangement as the signal rope to the engine driver should not have been applied, after all the murders, and assaults, and casualties, that have occurred on English railway trains, and proved its necessity?
Not at all. It is an American invention—a novelty. An Englishman does not believe in novelties, in innovations, or in American inventions. After he has tried every other thing he can think of as a substitute, and finds he can get nothing so simple and effectual, he will adopt it; and then it will be claimed as an English invention—invented by an Englishman; just as they claim the invention of the revolver, steamboat, and I don't know but the sewing-machine.