This was our first Sunday on land, April 28, and we decided that we would attend worship here in the forenoon. The Bishop of Dublin, and his canons, curates, and robed adult choir, were in attendance, and the cathedral was about one third filled. The service, as we afterwards found to be the universal custom in England, was intoned instead of read. It was disturbed, too, by the constant echoes; and, being unfamiliar with an intoned service, we were but poorly interested, and hoped for better things in the sermon, which was by one of the canons. It proved to be a weak statement of common things, a labored effort to prove what all admitted at the start. We would, however, speak lightly of no religious work, and were thankful for the treat we had enjoyed of seeing this time-honored sanctuary in use, and that we had listened to its grand music, and also to even a poor rendition of its beautiful service. At 2 P. M. we are out again for a ramble, this time to visit the fine grounds and buildings of the Royal Hospital, built by the celebrated architect of St. Paul's Cathedral at London, Sir Christopher Wren, in 1669. The building is large, though but two stories in height, and has ample grounds, and two-hundred-year-old avenues, well shaded by large trees. The institution is now used as a military station. We were freely admitted to the principal parts, were delighted with the old and good portraits in the ancient dining-hall,--and inexpressibly so with the chapel, for here are to be seen transcripts of the mind of Wren. He appears to best advantage as a designer, when he undertook to make pulpits and altar-pieces; and here, about the large circular-headed altar-window, he has almost excelled himself. This, like all the stall work, is finished in oak, and is as elaborate and as perfect as though of modern construction, though it is more than two hundred years old. Reluctantly we left these hallowed premises for a walk in the great Phoenix Park near by, and in the Zoölogical Garden. On our walk home to the hotel, we made it in our way to pass the companion church of St. Patrick, the other cathedral; for, incredible as it may seem, Dublin has another Protestant Episcopal cathedral-church, one scarcely inferior to St. Patrick's in renown. It is the venerable Church of the Holy Trinity, more commonly known by the name of Christ Church Cathedral. As is well known, a cathedral is so called because it is the seat of a bishop. Of course Dublin has but one bishop, and he is at St. Patrick's. The edifice we are to describe has, in turn with St. Patrick's, been the bishop's church, and from that circumstance the name has obtained its present use.