We are aware also that some of our Dublin readers, whose tastes are not uncultivated, but who have taken less trouble than ourselves to make themselves familiar with our suburban localities, may think that we speak too enthusiastically of the scenery of the Dodder river and its accompanying features. But if such readers would meet us at Miltown some sunny morning in May or June next, and accompany us along the Dodder till we reach its source among the mountains--a moderate walk--we are satisfied that we should be able to remove their scepticism, and give them an enjoyment more delightful than they could anticipate, and for which they would thank us warmly. We could show them not only a varied succession of scenes of picturesque or romantic beauty on the way, but also many contiguous objects of historic interest, on which we would discourse them much legendary lore, and which we should lead them to examine, offering as an excuse for our temporary divergence the beautiful sound of Wordsworth to his favourite Duddon:-- Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce Of that serene companion--a good name, Recovers not his loss, but walks with shame, With doubt, with fear, and haply with remorse. And oft-times he, who, yielding to the force Of chance-temptation, ere his journey end, From chosen comrade turns, or faithful friend, In vain shall rue the broken intercourse. Not so with such as loosely wear the chain, That binds them, pleasant River! to thy side:-- Through the rough copse wheel thou with hasty stride, I choose to saunter o’er the grassy plain, Sure, when the separation has been tried, That we, who part in love, shall meet again.