face, and all the iron strips and bolts open to
examination; and the curious little wooden
bolts—square morsels studding the inside of
the roof and sides, to divide and equalise the
strain, and prevent "springing." To have
caught a family of carriages thus en deshabille
was quite an event. Then we saw them
dressed. There was lining upon lining, before
the last silk and lace were put in. We felt
the curly, elastic hair with which the cushions
are stuffed. We noted the windows: how
the inner edge of the frame is made higher
than the outer, to prevent the rain oozing
in, as it used to do in the days of our
grandmothers for want of this simple precaution.

Other changes there are since the days of
our grandmothers—one of which we think
very striking. Formerly, the keeping a
carriage signified the keeping a certain
number of servants; and the servants were
considered the most important part of the
equipage and exhibition. Now, it is plain
that carriages are kept, much more than of
old, for their mere convenience: and some of
the most valued improvements in a
coach-manufactory are those which enable the
occupant of the carriage to dispense with all
service but that of the driver. There are
newly-invented handles, to open the door
from within with a touch; and the opening
of the door lets down the step, which is folded
under the carriage when the door is shut.
There are various screens of recent invention,
for keeping the entire doorway and window
clear of mud. The medical man in moderate
practice, the elderly lady of moderate income,
—various people of moderate means—may
now have a carriage who could not formerly
dream of such a thing. Carriages cost much
less than of old; they wear longer; and they
can be used without the attendance of a footman.
This increased use of carriages may
set against their increased durability and
lessened cost. Such has been the faith of
this firm, while paying high for the best
work, and exercising all possible ingenuity in
strengthening the structure, and bringing
down the cost of its carriages. In its showrooms
may be seen from forty to fifty different
kinds of carriages, at prices rising from thirty
pounds (if we remember right) to one
hundred and thirty pounds. There were no
Lord Mayor's equipages, nor great lumbering
vehicles, such as old prints show us, with
room for several grand footmen behind; but
there were some as handsome as any carriages
of our own time; and a gradual descent from
these to the useful, humble, neat family car,—
the genuine Irish car, which may, according
to tradition, carry the parson and his wife and
thirteen children. Against the walls of these
work-rooms hang large black boards, whereon
are chalked ideal carriages, as new notions
enter any brain on the premises. Some
suggestions obtained in this way have been
honoured by the testimony of successive
Lord Lieutenants, as may be seen by the
diplomas which adorn the walls of the room
appropriated to them. From the Exhibition
there could be no testimonial, as Mr. Hutton
was one of the jurors.

We saw here, applied to carriage-windows,
the curved and bent plate-glass which is
oftener seen used for lamps. This comes from
London. The plated work is chiefly purchased;
as are the laces and fringes. One room is gay
with the colours used by the painters; and
many were the polishers whom we saw at
work. The diversity of employments is
indeed very great, though Mr. Hutton
declines making railway carriages; and the
public cars, now so numerous in Ireland
and so great a blessing to her population, are
made by the successors of the inventor, the
late Mr. Bianconi. There are, on Mr. Hutton's
premises, about one hundred and eighty men
employed, besides the women who make the
carriage linings: and their wages are high for
Ireland. The labourers in the yards have
eight shillings per week; and the highest
wages paid are three pounds per week.
These are the two extremities of the scale.

There are no heart-burnings there now;—
no dispute—no mistrust. The principle of
the firm is, at length, understood, so as never
to be mistaken again. To make the best
possible carriages, in order to secure this
fine business to Dublin, is the aim; and to
use their own judgment as to how this is to
be done, is the determination of these gentlemen.
Their fellow-townsmen now see what
a blessing it is that they have been so resolute
in holding to their determination. Any
stranger in Dublin, who mentions their
names, is sure to hear what is now thought
of them and their kindly victory.

          THE TOPMOST CITY OF THE
                          EARTH.

THIRTEEN thousand, seven hundred and
twenty feet above the level of the sea! At a
perpendicular elevation of upwards of two
miles and a half, nearly on the snow line of
the Andes, stands the topmost city of the
earth, Ceno de Pasco. It is the capital of
the richest silver district in Peru. At the
before-named height, the Andes spread
themselves out into vast plains or table-lands.
Such table-lands—Punas, the Indians call
them—sometimes extend hundreds of miles,
and, on one of them—that of Pasco stands
the before-named city of Ceno de Pasco, which
I took care to visit when I was a dweller in
Peru

Through the Palace Square of Lima—not
forgetting to look up for the fortieth time at
its magnificent cathedral—over the Rimac by
a handsome bridge, which connects the city
with the suburb of San Lazaro, I got out
with my friends into the open country. The
plain on which Lima stands gradually
contracts as it approaches the Sierra, until it
becomes a narrow track between great walls