Before the camp at the Curragh was instituted, the soldiers stationed in Dublin were drilled and reviewed in Phoenix Park, on the outskirts of the city. This park, for a public one, is the largest and most natural in the kingdom. It is not many years ago since races were held there, but they are now done away with, and it is seldom that troops are reviewed in the park now. There is a splendid monument erected to the Duke of Wellington, a sort of obelisk with the names of all the actions in which he was engaged, reaching from base to summit. The base all around is relieved by bronze castings, representing scenes in the various battles, something after the fashion of Nelson's monument in Trafalgar Square. One peculiar feature in Phoenix Park is the vast number of very old hawthorn trees, and their red and white bloom has a very pretty effect in the month of May. The viceregal lodge--the residence of the Lord-Lieutenant--is situate in a lovely spot in Phoenix Park. The Chief Secretary's lodge is also in this park. The space of ground set apart for the drilling of cavalry is called the "fifteen acres," and it was more of a treat than a toil to be drilled on such ground. The Dublin citizens pay great respect to soldiers generally; they do not, however, like the foot guards, a battalion of whom is generally stationed there--for what reason I cannot understand, as they never leave the city without having a riot with the civilians or the men of some other corps. There is, however, a way to account for this ill-feeling. The Irish are a very impulsive race, and, as a rule, hate everything English, solely because they are for the most part taught to do so from their childhood. The guards, horse and foot, are mostly English; but other regiments are composed of English, Irish, and Scotch. The Irish agree better with Englishmen in barrack, camp, or on the line of march, than they do among themselves; because, if the one is hot and impulsive, the other will reason: but, knowing the guards to be all English, and never having an opportunity to converse soberly and rationally with them, there is neither time nor inclination to reason, and so they never meet or part without either high words or blows--oftener the latter than the former-- and Paddy mostly gets the worst of it. To foreigners visiting this country, there are no more interesting sights than the camps of Aldershot and the Curragh; and the arsenal at Woolwich has been visited by thousands of distinguished individuals from every country and clime. CHAPTER TWENTY. A triple mounted row of pillars laid On wheels (for like to pillars most they seem'd, Of hollow'd bodies made of oak or fir, With branches lopp'd in wood or mountain fell'd): Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouths With hideous orifice gaped on us wide, Portending hollow truce. Milton. ------------------------------------------------------------------------