As we approach the Bay, the Carlingford Hills can be seen on the right, and a little more southwards Lambay and Ireland's Eye. The latter island is rugged and precipitous, seaward, in the extreme--a barren and desolate-looking spot, possessing an unenviable notoriety on account of the murder of a lady by her husband having been committed there a few years ago: Howth, the light-house, and the Bailey Rock, where the _Queen Victoria_ steamer was wrecked, now attract our attention. And, as nearly as we can remember, these are the most striking features on the north side of the Bay. On the south the Harbour of Kingstown is distinctly visible, and we saw the mail steamer which crosses from Holyhead to Kingstown, a distance of sixty miles, in three and a half hours, blowing off her steam. By paying a little extra you can cross in the mail steamers, if you wish, but it is not worth while paying the difference, as the ordinary steamers cross from Holyhead to Dublin in about five and a half hours. All round the south side of the Bay we could trace the Kingstown and Dublin railway, which is the oldest line but one in the United Queendoms of Great Britain and Ireland. An obelisk commemorates the visit of the last of the four Georges to Ireland in 1821. Right over Kingstown the Killinny Hills are to be seen, and all along the water-line the Bay is studded with pretty little villas, and the scene is truly beautiful. If possible, arrange your entrance into the Bay of Dublin in the early morning, for then the sun, rising in the east, lights up the subjects to the very best advantage, and throws a charm about them which they do not exhibit at any other time of the day. By waiting at Holyhead for the early morning boat you can easily manage this. But now we are at the North Wall, and on landing are besieged by Carmen to have a "rowl," and jumping on to one of those light, odd-looking, jaunting cars which are one of the institutions of the country, we are "rowled" up the North Wall for nearly a mile, past the Docks, over the drawbridges, and past the Custom House--a large stone building, too large for the business of the port--along Carlisle Bridge, down Westmoreland Street, past the Bank of Ireland--once the Houses of Parliament--and up Dame Street, leaving the College on our left, and passing King William's statue, representing a mounted Roman with _gilded_ laurels and ornamental toga, we arrive at Jury's Hotel, a commercial and family house of superior arrangements which was well recommended to us before we left London; and here we rest.