of the old Royal Exchange of London. It ought, indeed, to interest any one who is interested in that, which is one of the most important of things connected with social progress and decline, and the philosophical history of which is yet to be written commerce. In this history Antwerp must have an important chapter; for its days of greatness, when it had more than two hundred thousand inhabitants, more than two thousand vessels in its harbour, when its river was covered by ships of all nations, are in strange contrast with what it is now. Yet, it is far from appearing sunken, or even humbled; it is like a stately dame, who has become old, is less sought than she was, but who yet retains her pride and her respectability. We had in the evening a pleasant walk on the quay along the Scheldt, a fine river, but offering no more of beauty at that point than the Mersey does at Liverpool.

We visited, also, a museum, which is kept in what was formerly a monastery; it is surrounded by a neat garden containing some tombs and busts-among the latter that of Rubens is conspicuous; indeed, the great painter seems to be the great man of Antwerp-reminiscences of him are to be met with on all hands. The picture galleries here are much more interesting, and in much better order, than those of Brussels. There are two modern pictures which seemed to me very well done; one is the death of Rubens, the other is a siege of Antwerp, not its late one; in this the beautiful airy tower of the cathedral is seen rising above the smoke and slaughter of battle with a fine effect.

It seems to me that, in some of the buildings in Antwerp, there are traces of Moorish forms and designs in the architecture, indicating the sway of Spain in former times. The fashion adopted by almost all the women of the lower ranks, of wearing the black silk scarf over the head, has, no doubt, also a Spanish origin. One fine afternoon, promenading before our hotel, we saw all the beau monde of Antwerp; and even to persons coming from Paris it was by no means con

temptible. Many of the ladies were very distinguishedlooking, and the men by no means undistinguished. But the military pleased me the most; the dark green frock and tall steeple-crowned hat set on side, with its black plume, has a most charming bandit look. Entre nous, these very genteel-looking soldiers are, it is said, extremely poor fighters. We saw many more of them as we passed through the gates of this finely fortified town. The ramparts, drawbridges, and ditches, are all once more in complete repair, and look very formidable indeed.

Our other most important excursion was to Waterloo; and I can at length say, that I have trodden a field of fame, for the other fields of which I spoke to you, I only saw in passing. I cannot, in truth, say that I have measured the length and breadth of this great field on foot, but I have mounted the pile of earth on which stands the lion of Holland, and I have looked abroad on that country, over which the eyes of Napoleon looked with the intensest anxiety which ambition ever awoke. Yet, in spite of all I wrote to you lately about battles, I am much changed on the subject of heroes; I think less of men and more of man now, and in a battle gained or lost, I see not the gain or loss of some great leader, but what is gained or lost by a people. There was a time when Alexander, Cæsar, and Napoleon, were names more dear to me than household words, but now I look on the three only as three immortal tyrants; and I, who almost burst my heart with indignation in reading of Napoleon's imprisonment at St. Helena, I can rejoice that he was vanquished at Waterloo. But there were moments, as I walked over the field, when my emotion was excessive, and the tears rose fast to my eyes; on a smile from Mrs. N. I checked them, forced them down my throat, and began to talk nonsense as fast as I could. Had you been there, I might have wept, or might have been silent instead of talking the nonsense which I did, as I searched for relics to bring away from the field. The laughing mood, however, Mrs. N. said, was the best, as she declares that

P

I

battles, when closely looked into, are, of all human follies, the greatest. I maintained, that the principle or feeling which makes men unite together in battle to brave danger and death, is one of the most generous of our nature. "I grant you," she replied, "that it is the social feeling in its strongest expression. I know that if you tell a man that, on a certain way, he will meet three men who will attack him, he will rather avoid the danger than meet it, but if you tell one hundred that they will meet perhaps twice their number, full of reliance on each other they seek it; it is an instinct in human nature for men to rely on men in danger, for them to assist each other, to bear a part in each other's perils for each other." "But do you not think this generous instinct humanises, refines, elevates men ?" "Yes, assuredly, if I could see it developed in some other way than in war, should think so-that generous devotion which men show to each other in war might, indeed, be a refining bond of social union; as it is, it is but the severer of social union, the bond of partisans, who sacrifice themselves to the ambition of their leaders-am I not right?" 66 Yes," I replied, "you are right as to a great many wars-perhaps to almost all—but there have been battles fought for great and noble causes, which-" "Which," she interrupted, "have ennobled the men who fell in them; scarcely any which have tended to the ennobling of the men who have been victorious in them.” "Oh, I cannot agree with you!" "Well, I feel that I begin to get sadly conservative, the first qualification for which, is to have a low opinion of my kind; I begin to think that man is, what he has been, and what he will be; and that we shall always have fields of battle, fought for bad causes, to walk over, as long as the world is a world-so come away—bring your wild-flowers, and grass, and pebbles, and bullets, and book of the monuments of Waterloo, and let us return to dinner." I did as she desired, and we ate a good dinner and drank champagne with undisturbed hilarity, after our visit to the famous plain. And yet, I assure you, the tears rush to

my eyes now as I write to you, for I have just turned them on the little book of inscriptions in the church of Waterloo. The heart must be hard indeed, which felt nothing in passing through that unadorned and dim little church, or which did not swell, on beholding in so many different languages, the testimonies of affection from parents, sisters, brothers, wives, children, friends, dedicated to even a few out of the many thousands who fell on the 18th of June, 1815. In almost all the inscriptions are mistakes, which, in most other places, one would think ludicrous; here, instead of a smile they call up a sigh. There are, however, two things at Waterloo especially absurd in their egotism. The enormous monument erected on the spot where the Prince of Orange was wounded is one of them, and the monument in the garden of the church, to Lord Anglesea's leg, the other. The Dutch lion is, in my eyes, more contemptible than Bottom's, which roared like a sucking-dove, when I think of the thousands of brave men who fell at Waterloo, and that that monstrous thing was raised to commemorate one man's wound. As to the leg, where men lost their lives it is bad taste, to say the least of it, for a nobleman to place the loss of it by the side of the monuments dedicated to their memory.

And now good-bye! My next will not be from Brussels, yet I scarcely know from whence: but we shall leave orders for our letters to be forwarded from this, when our route is decided on. I shall not, perhaps, write to you so frequently as I have done, as you may receive news of me by the letters of others. Do not you imitate me, but write as before-with this injunction, Good-bye!

FRANKFORT.

MY DEAR MOTHER,,

LETTER XXVII.

Frankfort, April 17, 183—.

WE are stationary for a short time in this very agreeable town, and are beginning to see something of a people who differ much more from the French than the Belgians. I do not feel, however, as if I were setting out with any prejudices against the Germans, if they would but abandon the detestable pipe, for all those whom I have known in England have prepared me to think well of them, on the score of their good education and freedom from prejudice. More than even the French did they seem to be aware of the truth of what Goldsmith says on the subject of ceremony, that it "resembles that base coin which circulates through a country by the royal mandate; it serves every purpose of real money at home, but is entirely useless if carried abroad: a person who should attempt to circulate his native trash in another country would be thought either ridiculous or culpable. He is truly well-bred who knows when to value and when to despise those national peculiarities, which are regarded by some with so much observance a traveller of taste at once perceives that the wise are polite all the world over, but that fools are polite only at home." I have quoted all this as it occurred to me, in proof of the better education in general of the Germans, for I think that they approach nearer Goldsmith's idea of the wise in carrying with them a much less offensive nationality of manners than we, or any other people with whom I have met. I hope that the English will improve in this respect;