Steamers leave Dublin every week-night for Liverpool, as they do Fall River for New York, and the distance is about the same. It involves a trip of a few miles out of Dublin harbor and bay, across St. George's channel, and four miles up the River Mersey at the other end. It is an English custom to put the name of the river last, while Americans put it first. It would sound very odd to an American to hear the remark River Ohio or River Mississippi; and so it would to an Englishman, to hear the expression Thames River. Every wise tourist, on visiting New York for the first time, is on deck early to see the approaches to the harbor, and the scenery below the city. One visiting Liverpool will do likewise; for this is to be his first view of the Mother Country. We were on our steamer's deck at 5 o'clock A. M., on Friday morning, May 3. In the distance, on our right, towered up, though somewhat obscurely, the bold headland of Holyhead, a part of Wales. As we approach it we discover the great gorge in the rock, and the bridge over it, and also the white lighthouse and long, substantial breakwater for the defence of the harbor. Sweeping in a curved course to the southeastward we see the Welsh high uplands, with their thrifty farms and many windmills. Behind these, as a splendid background, the Welsh mountains loom up, and the peaks of Snowden and other highlands show themselves. We now pass an interesting object,--an assemblage of rocks called the Skerries, three miles or so distant from the Welsh shore. They are very dangerous, and are lighted, being directly in the way of passage to the River Mersey. Next we arrive at Point Lynas, the pilot-station for Liverpool. Near it is Orme's Head, a rough promontory on which is a lighthouse, having a Fresnel light, one of the most powerful in the world. To add to the picturesqueness of the scenery, here and there are little Welsh villages, cosily situated, and nestling at the base of the hills. Among them is Llandudno and the watering-places; and so we anticipate a higher type of civilization, signs of which are on every hand. Not far from the mouth of the Mersey, fresh evidences of commercial life present themselves. Steamers, pilot-boats, and tugs thicken, and we know we are nearing a port of no ordinary importance. We pass the Northwest Lightship, and soon after hear the bell-buoy on the bar sending out its plaintive warning as it pitches and rolls. Like faithful sentinels are Formby and Crosby lightships; and at the right is Rock Light, at New Brighton.