Legends say that one day the good Bishop got severely chilled by remaining in his bath too long, and young Asaph, not having any shovel or tongs, took up some live coals in his hands, and carried them to his master, without burning himself at all. People said this was a very fair beginning for a Saint, and as he continued to improve, the church canonized him when he died, and the city and diocese were named for him. Near St. Asaph is Rhyddlan Castle--the place where Edward I. outwitted the Welsh nobles, by proposing that they should be ruled by a _native_ Prince, whose character nobody could say a word against. All joyfully agreed, and then he presented to them his infant son, born at Carnarvon Castle, and whom he had made Prince of Wales. At Conway, we passed close by a grand old castle, still very strong and imposing, though it was built by Edward I. Here we crossed the Tubular Bridge--a great curiosity--but far from equal to the Britannia Bridge, across the Menai Straits, which lie between Wales and the Island of Anglesea. I cannot describe this to you--but it is one of the most wonderful works in all the world. Holyhead is a small town, on an island of the same name--divided by a narrow strait from the west coast of Anglesea. Here we took a steamer to cross the Irish channel. We made the trip in about four hours; but they seemed to me no less than twelve--for I was mortally sick. I thought at one time that I was surely dying. I did not care much; people never do when they are sea-sick; still, I thought I should prefer a more romantic sort of a death, and I was heartily glad when I found myself on shore, at Kingstown, seven miles below Dublin, where we took the railway for that city. We arrived late at night, and drove to our hotel on a regular Irish jaunting car. This is a very funny looking vehicle--low and broad, with two wheels, concealed by the seats, which run lengthwise. There is another kind, called the _inside car_. An Irishman once explained the difference to an English traveller, in this way: "An outside car, yer honor, has the wheels _inside_, and an inside car has the wheels _outside_." All Irish carmen drive furiously, and the cars go jumping and hopping along, and spinning round the corners, at such a rate that one feels rather nervous at first, and has no little difficulty in keeping on. But like many other things, it's easy enough, when you get used to it. We found Gresham's Hotel a very comfortable, pleasant place, and we soon felt at home, though we saw none but Irish faces, and heard only the Irish brogue around us; for those faces were smiling and cordial, and that rich, musical brogue seemed bubbling up from kindly hearts.