line, and colour, equal
some of the most celebrated spots of continental beauty.

One of these is the view from Bray Head over the wide expanse of the Bay of
Dublin, with Howth and Lambay in the far distance. Nearer at hand lies the
sweep of that graceful shore to Killiney, with the Dalky Islands dotting
the calm sea; while inland, in wild confusion, are grouped the Wicklow
Mountains, massive with wood and teeming with a rich luxuriance.

When sunlight and stillness spread colour over the blue mirror of the
sea--as is essential to the scene--I know of nothing, not even Naples or
Amalfi, can surpass this marvellous picture.

It was on a terrace that commanded this view that Walpole and Atlee sat
at breakfast on a calm autumnal morning; the white-sailed boats scarcely
creeping over their shadows; and the whole scene, in its silence and
softened effect, presenting a picture of almost rapturous tranquillity.

'With half-a-dozen days like this,' said Atlee, as he smoked his cigarette,
in a sort of languid grace, 'one would not say O'Connell was wrong in his
glowing admiration for Irish scenery. If I were to awake every day for a
week to this, I suspect I should grow somewhat crazy myself about the green
island.'

'And dash the description with a little treason too,' said the other
superciliously. 'I have always remarked the ingenious connection with which
Irishmen bind up a love of the picturesque with a hate of the Saxon.'

'Why not? They are bound together in the same romance. Can you look on the
Parthenon and not think of the Turk?'

'Apropos of the Turk,' said the other, laying his hand on a folded letter
which lay before him, 'here's a long letter from Lord Danesbury about that
wearisome "Eastern question," as they call the ten thousand issues that
await the solution of the Bosporus. Do you take interest in these things.'

'Immensely. After I have blown myself with a sharp burst on home politics,
I always take a canter among the Druses and the Lebanites; and I am such
an authority on the "Grand Idea," that Rangabe refers to me as "the
illustrious statesman whose writings relieve England from the stain of
universal ignorance about Greece."'

'And do you know anything on the subject?'

'About as much as the present Cabinet does of Ireland. I know all the
clap-traps: the grand traditions that have sunk down into a present
barbarism--of course, through ill government; the noble instincts depraved
by gross usage; I