police are opened by the Nationalist clerks in the Post-Offices. 'Tis a
way we've always had with us in Ireland!"

I had some difficulty in finding the local habitation of the "National
League." I had been told it was in O'Connell Street, and sharing the
usual and foolish aversion of my sex to asking questions on the highway,
I perambulated a good many streets and squares before I discovered that
it has pleased the local authorities to unbaptize Sackville Street, "the
finest thoroughfare in Europe," and convert it into "O'Connell Street."
But they have failed so ignominiously that the National League finds
itself obliged to put up a huge sign over its doorways, notifying all
the world that the offices are not where they appear to be in Upper
Sackville Street at all, but in "O'Connell Street." The effect is as
ludicrous as it is instructive. Oddly enough, they have not attempted to
change the name of another thoroughfare which keeps green the "pious and
immortal memory" of William III., dear to all who in England or America
go in fear and horror of the scarlet woman that sitteth upon the seven
hills! There is a fashion, too, in Dublin of putting images of little
white horses into the fanlights over the doorways, which seems to smack
of an undue reverence for the Protestant Succession and the House of
Hanover.

What you expect is the thing you never find in Ireland. I had rather
thoughtlessly taken it for granted the city would be agog with the great
Morley reception which is to come off on Wednesday night. There is a
good deal about it in the _Freeman's Journal_ to-day, but chiefly
touching a sixpenny quarrel which has sprung up between the Reception
Committee and the Trades Council over the alleged making of contracts by
the Committee with "houses not employing members of the regular trades."