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clean. He said he understood, and started after it. He had only been gone a few moments when a knock came on our door, and upon opening, a dapper little Frenchman walked in, bowing and saying he had been sent to shampoo my hair. I told him a man had been engaged and had just gone after some things. He seemed reluctant to leave, insisting he had been engaged; but finally did so. The door was hardly closed when we heard voices in altercation just outside, which continued for a time, then came another knock. Gusty opened the door, and there stood both men, each one insisting he had been engaged. Gusty turned to me to know what to do. As I did not understand French, and she did, I told her to settle the difficulty as best she could. She went out into the hall, and returned before long with the Irishman following her, he being the victorious one. I was ready for him to commence work, but when he produced a bottle with some liquid stuff, I said “I do not want that; I want a dry shampoo.” He said “This is it, and it will soon dry.” I protested, he insisting, and finally I let him commence. He thoroughly saturated my hair, and then without even washing the stuff out, commenced drying it. I asked him if he was not going to wash it out. He replied, “Oh! no, it will soon dry.” It was without exception the vilest smelling stuff possible. By this time I was too out of patience to do anything but submit, and get through with the operation as quickly as possible, determining meanwhile to give my hair a good washing with soap and water as soon as he left. Gusty persuaded me that it would take so long, if wet with water, to dry, and besides the room was cold. So I let it alone. I will say here that I carried that awful odor all through Wales, Scotland and England till we returned to London, where I finally had it washed out.
The next morning, June 10, we took a carriage for a drive through the city, which is handsome, with splendid public buildings. We visited a few of these, driving by others. We went into St. Patrick's Cathedral and Christ Church Cathedral. It is a rare thing for one city to have two cathedrals. The reason for this was owing to political and ecclesiastical quarrels back in the middle ages. Christ Church being the older, is the diocese cathedral, while St. Patrick's is the national one. Both belong to the Protestant Church of Ireland.
were going down the steps leading into the yard of Christ Church Cathedral a number of beggar boys met us and were so very insistant on our giving them money that one of them almost threw me down in his eagerness. Needless to say, they received nothing. We visited Trinity College library. This library contains very rare and valuable old books, among which is the Book of Kells (the Gospel) and said to be the most beautiful book in the world. It is all hand work, beautifully illustrated in colors. These are as clear, lovely, and bright as when first made in the seventh century. As
we entered the building, two gentlemen entered with us, and we found from their conversation with the custodian that they were American-Irish gentlemen, visiting their country after an absence of many years. The old custodian was as proud of his books and rare old relics as if they were his own personal property, taking the greatest pride in showing them. Like all Irishmen, he was full of native wit, and these two gentlemen by their questions brought out this wit fully, which added much to the pleasure of our visit. Among the relics, we saw a harp, said to have belonged to Brian Boru, the great Irish leader in the eleventh century. In the center of the entrance court is the campanile, and on either side of the steps are fine statues of Burk and Goldsmith. From here we drove to the courtyard of the Science and Art Museum and National Library. We did not go in. A statue of Queen Victoria stands just inside the entrance. We drove from here to the castle, where the viceroy of Ireland resides when in Dublin. We saw the chapel only. The fine wood carving here was taken from the old chapel which stood on this site.
With all its fine buildings, Dublin is full of powerful odors, and the lower classes are uncleanly. We had a glimpse of Phoenix Park, driving in through one gate and out of another. Had time permitted, we would gladly have taken a drive through, as this is considered one of the finest parks in the world. We left the city at 1:00 P. M., going by train to Kingston, and taking the steamer from here to Holyhead. Our passage over was as quiet as our crossing to Ireland had been rough, the water being like a mill pond. Gusty was not ill, for a wonder. We had a long wait at Holyhead for our train, and were on our way to Carnarvon, North Wales.
We improved the time by taking tea—at least Gusty did. I think I had cake. Holyhead being on an island, we crossed to the mainland on the Menai suspension bridge over the Menai Straits, changing cars at the Menai bridge station. From here we saw another bridge. This is tubular and is called Britannia bridge. Both of these are noted for their wonderful construction. Carnarvon is only a short distance, and we arrived at 7:30, going to the Royal Hotel. After dinner, it still being daylight, we sat by the window in a little parlor (for this is a very little house if it is called by a royal name). I called Gusty's attention to a very long cannon being drawn past the house by men and boys. We were unable to find out what was the occasion. It grew dusk in this little Welsh town, and we retired to our rooms and our beds.
The next morning, June II, we had an early breakfast, took a carriage and drove to Carnarvon Castle, the famous old Welsh stronghold and one of the finest in the United Kingdom. It was in this castle, in the Eagle tower, so called from the eagle carved over one of the windows, high up in the tower, that the first Prince of Wales, Edward II, was born. At least this is what the Welsh people persist in saying,