The German, setting aside his beard and his pipe (which last is not easily set aside) is also little distinctive in conversational or personal habit. You will detect him easiest at table, and by his curious questionings.

The Italian learns easily and quickly to play the cosmopolite in dress, speech, action, and in conversation, too-so long as there is no mention of art. Touch only this source of his passion, and he reveals in a twinkling his southern birth.

The American-and here I hesitate long, knowing that my observation will be submitted to the test of a more rigorous examination— is in disposition least wedded to distinctiveness of all. In lack of aptitude he betrays himself. His travel being hasty, and not often repeated, he has not that cognizance of general form which the Russian and Italian gain by their frequent journeyings.

Nor in point of language will he have the adaptiveness of the Russian, both from lack of familiarity with conversational idiom, and lack of that facility in acquisition which seems to belong peculiarly to the holders of the Sclavonic tongue.

Again, in the way of adaptation to European life, there is something harder yet for the American to gain: it is the cool, half-distant, world-like courtesy, which belongs to a people among whom rank obtains, and which is the very opposite to the free, open, daredevil, inconsiderate manner that the Westerner brings over the ocean with him.

Nor is the American, in general, so close an observer of personal habit as the European. Those things naturally attract his attention, to which he is most unused; he can tell you of the dress of royalty, of the papal robes, and of the modes at an imperial ball; but of the every-day dress and manner of gentlemen, and their after-dinner habit and topics, he may perhaps know very little.

Still, in disposition he is adaptive: what he detects he adopts. He is not obstinate in topic or dress like the Englishman, nor wedded to his speech or his dinner, like the Frenchman. He slips easily into change. In England he dines at six, on roast beef and ale. At Paris, he takes his café, and fricandeau, and vin ordinaire, and thinks nothing can be finer. At Rome he eats maccaroni al burro, and sets down in his note-book how to cook it. At Barcelona he chooses rancid butter, and wonders he ever loved it fresh; and on the Rhine he takes a bit of the boiled meat, a bit of the stew, a bit of the tart, a bit of the roast, a bit of the salad, with a bottle of Hocheimer, and the memory of all former dinners is utterly eclipsed.

In Vienna he will wear a beard, in France a moustache, in Spain a cloak, and in England a white cravat. And if he but stay long enough to cure a certain native extravagance of manner, to observe thoroughly every-day habit, and to instruct himself in the idioms of speech, he is the most thorough Worlds-man of any.

It has occurred to me, while setting down these observations, that their faithfulness would be sustained by an attentive examination of the literary habit of the several nations of which I have spoken. Thus, Russia, careless of her own literature, accepts that of the world. England, tenacious of British topic, is cautious of alliance with what ever is foreign.

But I have no space to pursue the parallel further. The curious

reader can do it at his leisure, while I go back to our floating bateau on the Elbe.

A day and a night we were floating down the river. The banks were low and sedgy,-not worth a look. A chattering little Frenchman detailed to us his adventures in Russia. A clumsy Englishman was discoursing with a Norwegian merchant upon trade.

It was the sixteenth day of June, and the air as hot as hottest summer. Night came in with a glorious sunset. For every thing that we could see of the low country westward was gold-yellow; the long sedge-leaves waved glittering, as if they had been dipped in golden light, and fields following fields beyond them. And eastward, save where the black shadow of our boat, and its clouds of smoke, stretched a slanted mile over the flat banks, the colour of grass, and shrub, and everything visible, was golden,-golden grain-fields, and fields far beyond them,-golden and golden still,-till the colour blended in the pale violet of the east-far on toward northern Poland; the pale violet, clear of clouds, rolled up over our heads into a purple dome. By and bye, the dome was studded with stars; the awning of our boat was furled, and we lay about the deck, looking out upon the dim, shadowy shore, and to the west, where the red light lingered.

Morning came in thick fog; but the shores, when we could see them, were better cultivated, and farm-houses made their appearance. Presently Dutch stacks of chimneys threw their long shadows over the water; and, with Peter Parley's old story-book in my mind, I saw the first storks' nests. The long-legged birds were lazing about the house-tops in the sun, or picking the seeds from the sedgy grass in the meadow.

The Frenchman had talked himself quiet. Two or three Dutchmen were whiffing silently and earnestly at their pipes, in the bow of the boat, looking-out for the belfries of Hamburg. To relieve the tedium, I thought I could do no better myself. So I pulled out my pipe that had borne me company all through France and Italy and begged a little tobacco and a light;-it was my first pipe with the Dutchmen.

Cameron would not go with me to Bremen; so I left him at Hamburg- at dinner, at the table of the Kronprinzen Charles, on the sunny side of the Jungfernstieg.

I could have stayed at Hamburg myself. It is a queer old city, lying just where the Elbe, coming down from the mountains of Bohemia, through the wild gaps of Saxony and everlasting plains of Prussia, pours its muddy waters into a long arm of the Mer du Nord.

The new city, built over the ruins of the fire, is elegant, and almost Paris-like; and out of it one wanders, before he is aware, into the narrow alleys of the old Dutch gables. And blackened cross-beams and overlapping roofs, and diamond panes, and scores of smart Dutch caps, are looking down on him as he wanders entranced. It is the strangest contrast of cities that can be seen in Europe. One hour, you are in a world that has an old age of centuries;- pavements, sideways, houses, every thing old, and the smoke curling in an oldfashioned way out of monstrous chimney-stacks, into the murky sky: -five minutes' walk will bring you from the midst of this into a region where all is shockingly new:-Parisian shops, with Parisian plate-glass

in the windows--Parisian shopkeepers, with Parisian gold in the till. The contrast was tormenting. Before the smooth-cut shops that are ranged around the basin of the Alster, I could not persuade myself that I was in the quaint old Hanse town of Jew brokers, and storks' nests, that I had come to see; or when I wandered upon the quays that are lined up and down with such true Dutch-looking houses, it seemed to me that I was out of all reach of the splendid hotel of the Crown Prince, and the prim porter who sports his livery at the door. The change was as quick and unwelcome as that from pleasant dreams to the realities of morning.

Quaint costumes may be seen all over Hamburg :-chiefest among them, are the short, red skirts of the flower-girls, and the broadbrimmed hats, with no crowns at all, set jauntily on one side a bright, smooth mesh of dark brown hair, from which braided tails go down half to their feet behind. They the girls-wear a basket hung coquettishly on one arm, and with the other will offer you roses, from the gardens that look down on the Alster, with an air that is so sure of success, one is ashamed to disappoint it.

Strange and solemn-looking mourners in black, with white ruffles and short swords, follow coffins through the streets; and at times, when the dead man has been renowned, one of them with a long trumpet robed in black, is perched in the belfry of St. Michael's,-the highest of Hamburg,-to blow a dirge. Shrilly it peals over the peaked gables, and mingles with the mists that rise over the meadows of Heligoland. The drosky-men stop, to let the prim mourners go by; the flower-girls draw back into the shadows of the street, and cross themselves, and for one little moment look thoughtful;—the burghers take off their hats as the black pall goes dismally on. dirge dies in the tower; and for twelve hours the body rests in the sepulchral chapel, with a light burning at the head, and another at the feet.

The

There would be feasting for a commercial eye in the old Hanse houses of Hamburg trade. There are piles of folios marked by centuries, instead of years-correspondences in which grandsons have grown old, and bequeathed letters to grandchildren. As likely as not, the same smoke-browned office is tenanted by the same respectablelooking groups of desks, and long-legged stools that adorned it, when Frederic was storming the South kingdoms-and the same tall Dutch clock may be ticking in the corner, that has ticked off three or four generations past, and that is now busy with the fifth,-ticking and ticking on.

I dare say that the snuff-taking book-keepers wear the same wigs, that their grandfathers wore; and as for the snuff-boxes, and the spectacles, there is not a doubt but they have come down with the ledgers and the day-books, from an age that is utterly gone.

I was fortunate enough to have made a Dresden counsellor my friend, upon the little boat that came down from Magdebourg; and the counsellor took ice with me at the café on the Jungfernstieg, and chatted with me at table; and after dinner, kindly took me to see an old client of his, of whom he purchased a monkey, and two stuffed birds. Whether the old lady, his client, thought me charmed by her treasures, I do not know; though I stared prodigiously at her and her counsellor; and she slipped her card coyly in my hand at going out

and has expected me, I doubt not, before this, to buy one of her longtailed imps, at the saucy price of ten louis-d'or.

But my decision was made; my bill paid; the drosky at the door. I promised to meet Cameron at the Oude Doelen at Amsterdam, and drove off for the steamer for Harbourg.

I never quite forgave myself for leaving Cameron to quarrel out the terms with the valet-de-place at the Crown Prince; for which I must be owing him still one shilling and sixpence; for I never saw him afterward, and long before this, he must be tramping over the muirs of Lanarkshire in the blue and white shooting-jacket we bought on the quay at Berlin.

It was a fête-day at Hamburg; and the steamer that went over to Harbourg was crowded with women in white. I was quite at a loss among them, in my sober travelling trim, and I twisted the brim of my Roman hat over and over agin, to give it an air of gentility, but it would not do; and the only acquaintance I could make, was a dirtylooking, sandy-haired small man, in a greasy coat, who asked me in broken English, if I was going to Bremen. As I could not understand one word of the jargon of the others about me, I thought it best to secure the acquaintance of even so unfavourable a specimen. It proved that he was going to Bremen too, and he advised me to go with him in a diligence that set off immediately on our arrival at Harbourg. As it was some time before the mail carriage would leave, I agreed to his proposal.

It was near night when we set off, and never did I pass over duller country, in duller coach, and duller company. Nothing but wastes on either side, half covered with heather; and when cultivated at all, producing only a light crop of rye, which here and there flaunted its yellow heads over miles of country. The road, too, was execrably paved with round stones,-the coach, a rattling, crazy, half-made and half-decayed diligence. A shoemaker's boy and my companion of the boat, who proved a Bremen Jew, were with me on the back seat, and two little windows were at each side, scarce bigger than my hand. Three tobacco-chewing Dutch sailors were on the middle seat, who had been at Bordeaux, and Jamaica, and the Cape; and in front was an elderly man and his wife-the most quiet of all,-for the woman slept, and the man smoked.

The little villages passed, were poor, but not dirty, and the inns despicable on every account but that of filth. The sailors at each, took their schnapps; and I, at intervals, a mug of beer or dish of coffee.

The night grew upon us in the midst of dismal landscape, and the sun went down over the distant rye-fields like a sun at sea. Nor was it without its glory:-the old man who smoked, pulled out his pipe, and nudged his wife in the ribs; and the sailors laid their heads together. The sun was the colour of blood, with a strip of blue cloud over the middle; and the reflections of light were crimson-over the waving grain tops, and over the sky, and over the heather landscape.

Two hours after it was dark, and we tried to sleep. The shoemaker smelt strong of his bench, and the Jew of his old clothes, and the sailors, as sailors always smell, and the coach was shut up, and it was hard work to sleep; and I dare say it was but little after midnight when I gave it up, and looked for the light of the next day.

ANNE BOLEYN AND SIR THOMAS WYATT.

THE hour of midnight had just passed away, when four women and four men, singly and stealthily crept into St. Peter's church, in the Tower. When there, grouped together, one explained to the rest the proposed course of proceeding: all then bent their steps to the same point, and were presently engaged, some in lifting up a huge flag-stone from the pavement, others in spreading a very large cloth by the side of it; and, two wooden shovels being produced, two of the men proceeded instantly to throw out upon it the earth from a newly-made grave. This was the grave of Anne Boleyn, whose headless body had been rudely and hurriedly thrown into it, only twelve hours previously.

In all possible silence the men worked, and with no other light than was thrown on the soil by a small dark-lantern, most carefully held; but, although silently, they yet worked resolutely, and with great vigour and dispatch cast forth all that was found between them and the object of their search; which was an old elm-chest, that had been used for keeping the soldiers' arrows in. In this were deposited the remains of their late queen; and, the lid being removed, the body, which had on the scaffold been most carefully folded in a thick winding-sheet, was then lifted out, and laid on a large black cloak. The lid replaced, and the earth, with great caution and speed, being again thrown in, and the large flag-stone again laid down, the party hastened to the church door. A gentle signal from within having been answered by the opening of the door from without, and the assurance given that all was well, that no one was stirring, or in sight, the whole party passed hurriedly away with their burden into a house near at hand. Very shortly after the men separately retired to their respective temporary lodgings, to ponder rather upon their plans for the ensuing day, than to reflect upon the dangers they had incurred in their proceedings.

The four women, to whose care the body of the queen had been thus confided, were the four faithful, and attached, and chivalrous maids of honour, who had attended upon Anne in the Tower, and accompanied her to the scaffold. These, when her head was severed from the body, took charge of both, suffering no one to touch them but themselves, and having wrapped them carefully in a covering they had provided, and placed them in the old chest, which had been brought thither to receive them, they went with those who were appointed to bear away the body to the church, and did not leave it till they saw it completely enclosed in the grave which had been so hastily opened to admit it.

One of these four was Mary Wyatt, and one of the four men was her brother, Sir Thomas Wyatt, who could not endure the thought that one whom he had once so fondly loved, whom he had always admired and esteemed, should be buried like a dog, and thrust into the grave, as a thing dishonoured and despised; and, when a messenger brought him word, that Anne, but a moment before she knelt down on the block, whispered to his sister to implore her brother to bear off, if possible, her remains from the Tower, and to give her the rites of Christian burial in a place she named, he