In our "Visit to Germany," we bade the reader goodnight at the Hotel de Paris, in the ancient city of Frankfurt am Main, more commonly known as Frankfort on the Mayne. We were very agreeably aroused in the morning by a band of strolling musicians on the Platz playing some of the delightful airs of their fatherland. I do not know if this is customary; but it is certainly a much more pleasant manner of announcing that the sun has risen, and that all in bed would do well to follow his example, than by swinging a bell, or pounding a brazen gong, as in our hotels, which only stir up to resentment what musical faculties a man may possess. It is always better to begin the day with harmony than discord. At Arnheim, our fare at the Hotel de Hollande was excellent; but its relish was heightened by the dulcet strains of the voice and instrumental accompaniments. When mixed up with eating and waking, music imparts a charm to those processes which purifies them of their animality somewhat, and converts them into melodious and therefore intellectual operations.

Frankfort is situated towards the centre of Germany, on the river Mayne, about 18 miles from its junction with the Rhine, surrounded by the Hessian territories, and bordering on the duchy of Nassau. The majority of the population consists of Lutherans; there are, however, 6500 Papists, some 2000 Calvinists, and about 6500 Jews. The government is a republic, the sovereign power being vested in a senate and a legislative body. Frankfort is supposed to have been founded by the Franks as early as the fifth century. The Franconian dukes had a palace here, which at a later period was frequently the residence of Charlemagne, the founder of that dominion represented in the Apocalypse by "a Beast coming up out of the earth, having two horns like a lamb, and speaking as a dragon." His son, Louis the Pious, and his grandson, Louis the German, had their residence for several years in Frankfort, which, in the ninth century, became an emporium of Austrasia, (at that time comprising the north-east of Gaul and the southern half of Germany, between Tyrol and the forest of Thuringia, and between the Rhine and the Don rivers,) and in 1254, an imperial city. Since the year 1356, the emperors of the "Holy Roman," or, as it is sometimes styled, the "Roman German Empire," were elected, and, since 1562, also crowned by the Archbishop and Elector of Mentz in Frankfort, which meanwhile had grown rich by its extensive inland trade and annual fairs, which, however, have lost their former importance since the construction of railroads throughout Germany. In the beginning of 1806, French troops occupied the city, and in 1810 it became the capital of the Grand-Duchy of Frankfort, created by Napoleon in 1807. In 1813, it was restored to its former independence, and was in the period from 1816 to 1848 the seat of the Diet of the German Confederation. It s present population is about 58,000 inhabitants. It carries on a considerable trade, and is much engaged in the banking business. Frankfort is noted for its numerous literary institutions, having among them two public libraries, (one of which contains 80,000 volumes.) a cabinet of natural curiosities, a fine collection of paintings, &c. The most remarkable of the public edifices are the City Hall, styled Romer, where the Romano-German Emperors were elected, and which in substance was already extant in 964; and the ancient Gothic Bazaar dedicated to the Mahoz, called St. Bartholomew, where they were crowned. Frankfort is renowned for its extensive and comfortable hotels. The fare and accommodation are excellent, and the waiters attentive, obliging, and polite, if our experience at the Hotel de Paris may be taken in evidence for the rest. Having attuned us to good feeling by the harmony of their musical retainers, they set before us a breakfast of coffee and its usual accompaniments, the choice flavour of whose tout ensemble may be relished but not described.

We had now attained to the outward limit of our journey; and having nothing more to detain us in Frankfort, we turned our faces westward, proposing to reach England by way of Brussels, Paris, and Boulogne. Our baggage being at Cologne, this city was the first we should have to stop at after taking steamer at Maintz. It was necessary in this case that we should retrace our steps to Castel, and to cross from thence over the bridge of boats to that city. We therefore took the train from Frankfort to Castel, about eighteen miles, which did not occupy much time, as the speed is generally good.

Maintz, Mentz, or Mayence, is one of the largest cities on the banks of the Rhine, containing about 38,000 inhabitants. It was founded by the Romans shortly before the birth of Christ, and is situated opposite to the mouth of the Mayne. It is now the capital of the Grand-Duchy of Hesse Darmstadt, and the strongest fortress in Germany. Its garrison is composed of 8000 Austrians and Prussians, thereby increasing the population to some 46,000. The fortifications belong to the Germanic Confederation, and the city to the Grand-Duke. The commerce in wine and grain is very considerable. From the bridge of boats there is a very pretty view of the city and the Rheingau as far as Bieberich. The Cathedral Bazaar, which had suffered much during the French war, is entirely restored. A view of the interior is very interesting to those who love to contemplate the relics of dark and barbarous ages. It contains many tableaux and monuments. The house where Guttenburg, the inventor of the art of printing, was born, is still shown; also a monument to his memory.

We occupied our time in Maintz principally in viewing the fortifications and the city at different points. In our walk we fell in with some Austrian cavalry returning to their barracks, which are symbolised by the gilded statue of a horse on the top of the bell-tower. We turned after them to note more particularly the physical characteristics of the men and horses. My companions refused to follow within the gateway; but my curiosity led me to the stables. They had dismounted and were busily engaged in unharnessing. Compared with the English Life-guards, all of whom are six feet and their horses a noble-looking breed, the specimen before me was any thing but imposing. The men had a dark, sour look, more like banditti than aught else. I suspect they were Italians, the policy of their rulers being to garrison German cities with Italians, and Italian cities with Germans; seeing that between them there are no race nor national sympathies, but rather the contrary. Their horses were light, but perhaps active; though, I should think, scarce equal to field service. I do not regard it as an astonishing feat of arms that the Magyars fighting for independence should beat such troops as these. The armed slaves of despotism, fighting for a pittance per diem, are but a sorry match for a third of their number struggling to be free. My inspection did not excite great apprehension of the terror of their charges. If they are to be taken as a fair specimen of the chivalry of continental Europe, it appears to me to be in a very degenerate condition, and very much to need an infusion of wild Cossack blood to save it from extinction.

At half past twelve we left Mayence by the dampfschiff "Manheim" for Cologne, where we arrived at 10 P.M. At dinner we partook of the viands provided as we saw others do. The waiter asked me if I would take some fleisch? "Yah, mein herr." He gave me some, and offered to oblige one of my friends in the same way! But on seeing the flesh he shook his head, and begged to be excused. Having no antecedents to trouble me, I ate on, though the fleisch neither looked nor tasted like "the roast beef of Old England." It looked a little bilious, its fibre was more dense, and its taste sugary; still, suspecting nothing, I finished the portion without accident, but with a Rein fleisch mehr on being invited to renew. Arrived on deck, my friend inquired, "Do you know what you have been eating?" "Yes," said I, "beef; though not so savoury as English Durham." He smiled significantly. "Beef!" said he; "horse-flesh, you mean! I was aware they cooked that sort of fleisch for food in Germany, and therefore refused to partake of the dish you seemed to relish!" I had eaten horseflesh for beef, but certainly without the relish. The idea was quite nauseating at first, because of the knackers’ yards, and skewered cat’s meat, and deadhorse sausages, connected with horseflesh in London, where all eatables are turned to some account! Who would have suspected (certainly I did not) that in a civilised country horses would be turned into food! Yet, if not worn out nor diseased, why should they not be savoury and good? A horse is cleaner than a cow in its feeding and general habits. But then the high price of horses would cause only the worthless to be turned into food. This brings one back to the probability that it was horseflesh fit only for buzzards that had found its way in. This was nauseating at last! It was clear that ideas and reasoning were against the peace and quiet of the stomach! I therefore begged of my friends, who seemed to regard it as quite a joke at my expense, not to mention the matter any more until digestion was completed; and then we could talk upon the subject without disturbing the balance of the powers within!

Soon after our return to London, I found the following extract concerning horseflesh in a letter from one of the correspondents of The Times. Had I seen it before my visit to Germany, I should certainly have looked very suspiciously upon all kinds of meat offered in the name of fleisch, before consenting to accept it as good for food. The writer says:

"In Austria the Government some time since gave, or rather renewed a former permission for the sale of horseflesh as food. In Berlin the sale is also legal; but in spite of the efforts of unprejudiced philosophers, who can fall back on beef, and only patronise the equine substitute on principle and by way of example, the article does not find its way, avowedly at least, into consumption. Nothing seems to overcome the obstinacy of the public in this particular, and the philosophers eat and write in vain. They say, ‘It is reserved for the nineteenth century to root out a prejudice sanctioned by civilisation, and to restore horseflesh to its true place as an article of consumption.’ But the nineteenth century is in this matter one crust of prejudices. The Berlin dinners, at which, from soup to roti, all is horse under different modes of preparation, are still confined to a very limited circle, and, it is believed, are decreasing in frequency; but the question seems to be agitated again in Austria. There, too, the public are averse to ‘strange flesh,’ and display a perverse preference for beef and mutton. More practical in this as in other matters, it is to be feared that London consumes more horseflesh than Berlin and Vienna combined, without any societies for the promotion of the taste of it; but it is in disguise and under other names. Here the example of the Tartars and the ancient Germans is repeatedly cited, but in vain. The sceptics reply that both those respectable races ate their horses for the same reasons that the French cavalry in retreating from Moscow cooked their steeds, because they had nothing better and that misery makes men acquainted with strange food as well as strange bedfellows. The error of the horse-eaters is, that they recommend for consumption the old and worn-out animals who are relieved by age from the shafts or the plough; they regard every horse that escapes being eaten as so much nutritive substance lost to society; if they could bring into the market young and tender animals, with sinews unhardened by years of toil and driving, they might make more progress; but a young horse is as expensive to bring up to an eatable state as a bullock, so there is nothing gained. An old Berlin cab-horse, alive or dead, is not an inviting object; and except under the pressure of a Russian campaign, the most needy of a city population would not consider him eatable. Yet the societies go on, writing, memorialising ministers, and ‘greatly daring,’ dining off the food they recommend, without the slightest progress. They must pray for some friendly siege or famine to make their doctrine practicable; but it is some illustration of the state of society that Ministers of State publish formal edicts on such a subject."

In addition to the above, I afterwards met with the following notice in a New York paper: "Butcher’s meat has become so dear at Schaffhausen in Switzerland, that permission has been granted by the authorities to expose for sale the flesh of horses, asses, and mules." While in England, I heard of a dead ass being eaten by some poor people at Bradford, in Yorkshire! but poverty and famine are great condiments, and create a relish for consumables of the most revolting kind.

Determined to eat no more on board the damp ship "Manheim," we postponed our supper till we should arrive at the Hotel der Dom, in Cologne. Arriving therefore at this city, we hurried on to quarters, being well appetised by the cool air of the river and fasting. The next day we visited the Dom or Cathedral. It is built in the form of a cross, as are all the large church-bazaars of the time. It was founded in 1248, and since the days of the Lutheran Reformation of Popery left unfinished, though at present the completion of the work is projected. By the admirers of Gothic ecclesiastical saint-temples it is styled "a sublime edifice." The architecture is elaborate and fine; but apart from this, it may be styled a great bazaar of old rubbish. The spiritual merchants who superintend it pretend that they have got the skulls of the three Wise Men of the East to whom the angel and the multitude of the heavenly host announced the birth of Jesus, and the future blessedness of the world! They are enshrined in a recess as the, "Three Kings of Cologne," being the mahuzzim or guardians of the den. While looking at this, a portly-looking fellow, habited in a priest’s costume, entered by a door near an idol as large as a full-sized man, which they call "Christ," to which he bowed his head and knee, and then passed on. Yet they say they are not idolaters! The divine law forbids the making of graven images and the bowing down to them; but Papists do both. Protestants are not free from the iniquity; for, though they do not bow down to them, they make them, and set them on their "churches," as may be seen at St. Paul’s, London, and in this city.

Though Cologne has only about 55,000 inhabitants within the walls, it has a great many saint-bazaars, or ecclesiastical edifices dedicated to guardian saints. There are St. Gereon’s, St. Marie au Capitol’s St. Cunibert’s, St. Peter’s, St. Ursula’s, with the tomb of "the saint," and many more besides; some twenty-five, I believe, besides eight chapels. Certainly, with all these saint-gods, and situated too on the left bank of the Rhine, the holy territory of Christ’s Vicegerent in Rome, Cologne can have no need of walls and battlements! But, glowing as Chrysostom’s eulogy on the omnipotence of guardian saints may be, the Prussian government and the orator’s brethren, the priests, feel much more secure behind their fortifications from the invasion of a French army, than if the ghosts of all the saints of the popish calendar were concentrated around their city. They may have ere long an opportunity of putting their walls and guardian demons to the proof.

At Cologne we turned our backs upon the Rhine, and ticketed ourselves for Brussels by way of Aix-la-Chapelle, Verviers, and Malines. The day was fine, and the country highly cultivated and beautiful. After a run of 43 miles we came to Aix-la-Chapelle. This was once an imperial city, being founded, or at least embellished by Charlemagne, and was for a long time considered as the capital of the Romano-German empire. In the period from 813 to 1558, the emperors were usually crowned here. Towards the close of the last century, the city was occupied by the French, and in 1801 formally ceded to France. In 1815 Prussia became possessed of it. In Germany, Aix-la-Chapelle is called Aachen, and is at present the capital of a governmental district of the same name near the frontier of the kingdom of Belgium. It has about 49,000 inhabitants, and is renowned for its numerous and important manufactures of fine cloth, cassimere, pins, needles, and various other articles; for its mineral waters and baths, and finally for its numerous architectural monuments, among which ranks first the very ancient Gothic cathedral, (founded A.D. 796 by Charlemagne, who lies buried there,) with many historical curiosities; and next to it the Gothic City Hall, reared in 1353, and standing upon the same spot where the palace of Charlemagne previously stood.

We were detained some time at Aachen. When released, we were not long before we crossed the frontier into Belgium. After a run of fourteen miles we reached Verviers, in the province of Liege, a town on the Weze, with 21,000 inhabitants, and celebrated for its numerous and excellent cloth manufactures. Here we left the Prussian train, which stopped at one side of the station, while the Belgian started from the other; so that we had to pass through the building to make a new start. This arrangement puts you in the power of the Belgian custom-house officers, who examine the baggage within on its transfer from one train to the other. Having as little as we could possibly do with, the examination of ours was a mere formality; the general inspection, however, caused considerable delay. At length we were off again through a very beautiful and apparently flourishing country. It reminded me very much of Derbyshire in the vicinity of Matlock. The agriculture is in a high state of improvement; nevertheless, sufficient corn for home consumption cannot be raised, so that the importation of it is very considerable. Belgium is the most thickly settled country in Europe, the ration of population being 381 inhabitants on a square mile, while Massachusetts, the most populous of the United States, has only 98. The population of Belgium is 4,350,000, all of whom are Papists, except about 25,000 Protestants. There are nearly 500 monasteries and nunneries, that is, ecclesiastical houses of ill-fame. In point of origin, the majority of the people belongs to the great Germanic tribe, and is known by the name of Flemings, differing but little from the Dutch in language, customs, and manners. The people in the south, or the Walloons, are, for the most part, descendants from the ancient Gauls, (Gomer’s descendants,) and speak the French language.

We arrived at Brussels at 7 P.M., after a run of 142 miles from Cologne. We put up at the Grand Hotel de Saxe, in the Longue Rue Neuve, where we found the accommodations and fare as good as could be desired. We occupied our time in seeing all we could. Brussels ranks among the finest cities of Europe. It is the metropolis of Belgium, and the royal residence. It is situated on the Senne, 99 miles distant from Aix-la-Chapelle. It contains 124,781 inhabitants, exclusive of the suburbs, whose total population amounts to more than 40,000. The morning after our arrival we sallied forth to see the spectacles usually exhibited in a Popish city on Sunday. The first thing that arrested our attention was the almost total disregard to the outward observance of the day. Numerous stores were open, large placards on the walls announcing theatricals for the evening, workmen pulling down houses, and carts carrying off the rubbish, &c. We visited the Chapel Royal and Cathedral, where we witnessed the pantomime usually practised in those Popish theatres. In the Chapel Royal was an idol of the ordinary stature of a woman, gaily tricked out in Belgian fashion, with a little image in her arms of a baby in colour very much like an Indian or mulatto. They call it God and his Mother, and they bow down before it as the special representative of the ghost of the Queen of Heaven! From this we visited a temple they call Notre Dame de Victoire, our Lady of Victory, or the victorious goddess—the richest saint-bazaar in Brussels. At one of the shrines dedicated to the ghost of a St. Joseph, I think fragments of his bones (or what are said to be his) are exhibited to the superstitious gaze of those who seek his protection. A wooden forearm and leg are provided, and in the supposed place of the bones, pieces are morticed out, and a portion of the holy bones set in, and then covered over with a piece of glass; so that the demon-worshipper, on seeing the gilded wooden arm and leg, sees also pieces of real bones, which his ideality can easily transform into the real leg and arm of his patron saint! Alas! how prostrate must the human mind be in Brussels, in Belgium, nay, in all the Romanised world, to yield itself to the adoration, veneration, worship, or by whatever other softened epithets its regard for musty old bones, ghosts, and idols or saint-images, may be termed: but the fact is, as the Autocrat truly said in one of his proclamations, "the people of the west have no faith." They despise the priests and their trumpery; but continue to frequent their temples as Protestants do their chapels, not for instruction and worship, but to exhibit their finery, hear some good singing, and meet their acquaintances. Christianity in Brussels, there is none. It is truly a Kingdom of the Beast, stamped with his mark and number on every side.

At one o’clock the military bands assembled in the Park at the Kiosch to perform certain pieces of music according to a published programme, for the benefit of those who had suffered from recent inundations of the river. People gave what they pleased at the Park gates. The visitors were numerous, and the show of millinery very abundant; but whether the assembly were the fashion and the aristocracy of the city I could not tell. Military officers were abundant; but for the rest, I could discern none but the most plebeian faces, and they of every degree of ugliness. I am satisfied that Popery degenerates the human countenance. It gives activity to the propensities, while it represses the intellect and moral sentiments. A poperised brain is an earthly, sensual and devilish brain, like the wisdom from beneath which prostrates it. The bones and muscles of the face and head are moulded into form and feature by the plastic influence of the brain. Hence a brain whose most active organs are the propensities, will produce large jaws, broad faces, turnip-shaped heads, wide mouths, thick lips, short, ill-shaped noses, and so forth. These, in all their variety, more or less modified by descent from a superstitious and semibarbarous ancestry, I call the physical ugliness of sin. I saw much of this in Brussels. Indeed, in all my tour in continental Europe, I did not set eyes upon what I regard as a handsome man or a beautiful woman. Perhaps I am difficult to please; maybe I am too much so. I speak, however, of my impression, which is, that the present generation of European Papists is a degenerate race, and, like the effete Romans of the fifth and sixth centuries, at the hands of the more vigorous Goths, fit only for capture and destruction, leaving the survivors for amalgamation with the nomads of Scythia, who have been unspoiled by the debasing superstition of the Latins and the Greeks. The offspring of such a parentage trained in the knowledge of the Glory of the Lord, will doubtless produce a generation that will do credit to humanity in the Age to Come.

Being so near the field of the great battle that fixed the fate of Europe for upwards of thirty years, we determined to devote Monday to an excursion to Waterloo, which is about nine or ten miles from Brussels. We accordingly hired a carriage for the trip, specifying that we should be taken to Hougomont and back, a distance of 24 miles, for 20 francs, or $3.84, being $1.28 each; a very moderate charge for so pleasant and interesting an excursion. An American physician staying at the Grand Hotel de Saxe had just returned from Waterloo; and, as the result of his experience, advised us to have nothing to do with the guides; but to procure a map and plan of the battle, and ascending to the top of Mont St. Jean, trace out the corresponding points on the field for ourselves.

We started soon after breakfast, taking the road to Genappe and Charleroi, on which the village of Waterloo is situated. This was the general quarter of the British army, but not the site of the battle. It is said to contain 1900 inhabitants, and is remarkable only for its connection with the fight. Arrived here, we purchased a map, and thankfully declined the services of Messieurs les Guides, of whom several pressed their kind attentions upon us. We had indeed come from London; but we were not "cockneys" nor "Johnnyraws," for a’ that. Our conducteur evidently thought to deliver us as three flats into their hands for a stroll over the field, while he made himself at home at the cabaret; but we reminded him that Hougomont was yet two miles distant, and that he must drive us there. This he did, taking the road to Nivelles, which turns off to the right from the Genappe road at the village of Mont St. Jean. But when we got out of the lane leading to the farm, and he saw us fairly out of sight, he drove back to Waterloo, leaving us to return on foot.

We were now at the ruins of the chateau of Hougomont, the advanced post of the British on the memorable 18^th June, 1815. The cannonade which commenced the battle was instantly followed by an attack from the French left upon the chateau, commanded by Jerome Buonaparte. The troops of Nassau, which occupied the wood around the castle, were driven out, but the utmost efforts of the assailants were unable to force the house, gardens, and farm offices, which a party of the British Guards sustained with the greatest resolution. The French redoubled their efforts, and precipitated themselves in hundreds on the exterior hedge which screens the garden wall, indented in its whole length for musketry, not aware probably of the internal defence the wall afforded. The wall, which is of brick, still stands, well peppered with shot. The French fell in great numbers on this point by the fire of the defenders, to which they were exposed in every direction. The number of their troops, however, enabled them, by possession of the wood, to mask Hougomont for a time, and to push on with their cavalry and artillery against the British right, which formed in squares to receive them. The fire was incessant, but without apparent advantage on either side. The attack was at length repelled so far, that the British again opened their communication with Hougomont, and that important garrison was reinforced, and thus strengthened, succeeded in maintaining the position the whole day. In the midst of the combat, the chateau caught fire, and the dead, the dying, and the wounded, with many of the combatants, found a common funeral-pyre in the flames. How dreadful must the spectacle have been! Infuriate madmen, with loud shouts of execration, murdering one another in the midst of the fire! The castle, with the exception of the family chapel, was entirely destroyed. This still remains, being a small place about ten feet square, built of stone. At the end opposite the door is "the altar," with a little La Vierge idol upon it, worshipped by the peasants who take care of the place. Over the door is another idol carved in wood, about the ordinary size of a boy ten years old. It is nailed up there as if on a cross, and called a Christ. The porter told us, as a sort of miracle, that the fire which destroyed the chateau burned the feet of the image partly, but proceeded no farther. But to have made it any thing of a miracle, the idol should have been wrapped in flames, and the paint upon it not even soiled. This would have been somewhat remarkable; but for the feet to be partly destroyed as well as the chateau, evinces that the fire regarded the one as profane as the other. But in regard to spirituals Papists do not, dare not, cannot reason.

The sides of this little idol-temple are bare whitewashed walls. Many from different countries had written their names and addresses upon them. Some members of the Peace Society had visited the Mont St. Jean, and there, in the presence of the Belgian Lion, on the top made a protest against war; at least, so it was reported. If they could make their crotchet of "arbitration instead of war" the law for the settlement of all national differences in Europe, the ascendancy of superstition would be eternal, and its past cruelties without punishment. I concluded therefore to inscribe a protest against peace on the wall of this temple of Mary-worship. My inscription was this:

"Success to war until Mariolatry and Image-worship are destroyed from decrepit old Europe!"

Under which I signed my name and place of residence in the United States.

Having seen enough of this relic of the past, we bid adieu to Hougomont, and directed our steps to Mont St. Jean. On my way thither we were infested with would-be–guides, if we would let them, and retailers of battle-relics, such as bullets, old buttons, pieces of bomb-shells, rusty sabres, &c. But we set no value on these things, and therefore begged to be permitted to retain our cash, which we found it difficult to do where people are so importunate to serve you. The guides seem to regard the battleground as theirs, and that no foreigners should visit it without paying tribute to them. Boys and men stick to you like leeches. They followed us 200 feet in the air, that is, to the top of the mount; but finding their endeavours useless, their politeness vanished, and they left us, cursing us for Russians!

There are three objects of interest under the name of Mont St. Jean. These are the village of Mount St. John, the farm, and the mount itself. The village is placed where the road from Nivelles to Louvain crosses the road from Charleroi to Brussels, and about a mile from the village of Waterloo. About 500 yards south of the village which lay in the rear of the British army, on the Genappe road, is the farm of Mont St. Jean, which was the centre of the position occupied by the British and their allies, the Hanoverians, Belgians, Dutch, Brunswickers, and troops of Nassau. Of these, the British were about 30,000, Hanoverians and German legion 23,000, and the rest 22,000 in all, making a total of about 75,000 horse and foot. The Belgians were disaffected; and the greater part of the British regiments were second battalions, or regiments which had been filled up with new recruits; so that Wellington may be supposed to have had considerable anxiety for the issue in the event of the Prussians under Blucher being unable to effect a junction with him in time. About 600 yards from the farm-house a road crosses the Genappe causeway, from the Nivelles road towards Wavre by Ohain. Along this cross-road the left wing and centre of the British forces were ranged, so that the Genappe road ran through between them and by the farm-house, which was a little in the rear of the army.

The right wing formed a sort of crescent with its convexity facing westerly to the right of the Nivelles road. The British army was evidently marshalled for defence, with the artillery in front, then the infantry, the twelve regiments of cavalry behind the centre, and nine behind the left wing, and several regiments of Belgians in the extreme centre rear.

About a mile and a half in a due west course is Braine Leland, the advanced post in front of the position occupied by the British right. This was garrisoned by Dutch and Belgians, and attacked by Jerome Buonaparte after he had cleared the wood of Hougomont, but without result. Failing here, the French transferred their attack to the British centre with desperate fury. A large body of cuirassiers advanced with headlong intrepidity along the Genappe causeway against the farm-house, where they were encountered by the English heavy cavalry, who drove them back on their own position, where they were protected by their artillery. The four columns of infantry that followed the cuirassiers had well-nigh established themselves in the centre of the British position, but for a flank attack of heavy cavalry at the moment they were checked by the fire of the musketry. The result was decisive; the French columns were broken with great slaughter, and two eagles, with more than 2000 men, were made prisoners and instantly marched off to Brussels.

This was one of the most important repulses sustained by the French during the eight hours’ combat; and conferred an interest on the farm of Mount St. John, which La Haye Sainte and Hougomont, though important positions, did not possess. The establishment of the French at the farm would have cut the British army in two, and have opened the road for them to Brussels. But it was otherwise ordained. Providence had no further use for Napoleon. The star of his destiny had set; therefore all the zeal and desperate valour of his legions was but the dashing of the tempestuous ocean upon the rocks. Human effort could not sustain him.

The successful defence of the farm was probably one cause of the mound being raised on its present site. The heaping up of this mass of earth commemorative of the victory was a useful idea, as well as appropriate to the circumstances of the case. A mountain of flesh had been slain, and a mountain of 200 feet, surmounted by the Belgian Lion in granite, has been raised to perpetuate the fact. But it also forms a fine position from which to view the field of blood. Looking southward along the Genappe and Charleroi causeway, you see La Haye Sainte, the advanced post of the British centre; La Belle Alliance, between the right and left wings of the French army, and where Wellington and Blucher met after Napoleon’s flight; and Le Caillon, about two miles and a half distant, his general quarter, and Dock Yard of reserve, where he slept on the night of the 17^th. On the south-west you see Hougomont, and a mile and a half south-east of that, Planchenois, and the monument of the Prussians slain in their attack on that village in the rear of the French army. About a mile to the north is the Foret de Soignie; and two miles and a half to the north-east, the village of Ohain; and about a mile south of that, the Wood of Paris. Ohain lay about a mile and a half from the extremity of the British left wing, and south of the road to Wavre, which is fourteen from Waterloo. The first body of the Prussians entered into communication with the British left by the Ohain road, while their fourth advanced from St. Lambert through the Wood of Paris against the French rear at Planchenoit. The coup d’oeil from the stand-point of Mont St. Jean is truly beautiful; and had it been in existence at the time of the battle, it would have been a safe and admirable position for an actual panorama of Waterloo. The day of our visit was one of bright sunshine, though with the hindrance of a stiff cool breeze. With our map and plan of the battle we obtained much more reliable information concerning the landscape than the guides could have afforded us; and having to identify the localities by our own observation, they made a more abiding impression upon our minds. Having finished our survey, we descended by a long flight of steps, from which, following a path, we found ourselves in the hands of a lodge-keeper, who invited us to inscribe our names in a Visitor’s Register, which in Flemish is equivalent to asking payment for nothing. We had received no service; yet we paid, not because of spontaneous liberality—for our benevolence does not flow impromptu towards the pockets of the McSycophants—but that we might not subject ourselves to the opprobrium of being proclaimed "cursed Russians," or mean fellows of some more cordially despised fraternity. We feed the lodgeman that he might not raise our dander by his insolence; for civility is pleasant even in being robbed.

Being politely bowed out, we found ourselves not marchants pour la Syrie, but for Waterloo. After a tramp of a mile and a half along a very dusty road, we came up with our conducteur. Having nothing more of interest to detain us, we directed him to drive us to Brussels by another route through the Foret de Soignie, part of which was as wild as any of our roads in the backwoods. After a pleasant ride of about two hours and a half, and under much more comfortable circumstances than the 2000 French prisoners who had preceded us thirty-five years before, we arrived at the Grande Hotel de Saxe, about 4½ P.M., well pleased with our excursion; and thankful that we have no part nor lot in Europe or its affairs. Its history is written in blood, and one of its bloodiest pages we had perused at Waterloo.

On Tuesday we left Brussels by train for Paris, passing through Braine le Compte, Mons, Jemappes, and Quievraine in Belgium; and Valenciennes, Douai, Arras and Amiens, in France; Amiens being about 73 miles from Paris. From Brussels to Valenciennes is 59 miles; and from Brussels to Paris about 180 miles. Mons is the fortified capital of the province of Hainault, noted for its coal mines, and has 24,000 inhabitants. In its vicinity is the village of Jemappes, noted for a battle in 1792 between the French and allied powers. Louis Philippe was at this battle in the French ranks. It was fought in the days of Sans Culotteism, and in courting popular favour became the one idea of his military patriotism, according to the air—

"Souvenez-vous de Jemappes?

Souvenez-vous de Valmy?

J’etais dans vos rangs a Jemappes;

J’etais dans vos rangs a Valmy."

Valenciennes is a strongly-fortified town on the Scheldt, with celebrated lace manufactures, and 21,000 inhabitants. At this station our passports were politely demanded, and the baggage inspected by the French custom-house officers. Douai is a fortified town on the Scarpe, with one of the largest arsenals in France, numerous manufactures, and 20,000 inhabitants. Arras is the fortified ancient capital of Artois, also on the Scarpe, in the Pas de Calais Department, north-eastward, and 32 miles distant from Amiens, with a strong citadel, a remarkable Gothic cathedral, and over 24,000 inhabitants. Amiens is the fortified ancient capital of Picardy, on the Somme, with a cathedral considered as a masterpiece of Gothic architecture, and 48,000 inhabitants. Its manufactures of velvet, carpets, &c., are important, and it has also considerable inland trade. It was at this place that the treaty of peace was concluded between France and Great Britain, March 25, 1802. We arrived in Paris in eleven hours and a half, at 12 P.M. There was a little emeute in our car on the way, which did not, however, end in a revolution. A passenger "blouse," one of the Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality gentlemen, being very socially inclined, commenced to take comfort in a cigar, which was not accepted as agreeable by some others. These protested against it as highly offensive to the lady present—that is, as they presumed. But he preferred his own gratification to hers, telling them, with a theatrical exposure of an under-garment of blue, that he was a blouse, and should do as he pleased, and that if they did not like the smoke, they could go into another car. French tongues became very voluble at this red republican defiance, and soon after arriving at a station, called aloud for the station-master; but his station-mastership was prudently deaf, and we steamed on. There were no barricades thrown up, though things appeared very threatening. The lady’s companion, guessing that the emeute was about smoke, (for they were English,) afforded our party no little amusement in his efforts to allay the storm. Knowing nothing of French, and not able to get at them with the Queen’s English, he seemed to think that the only chance he had was to murder it with as much affability as possible, exclaiming on the lady’s behalf, "We no mind shmoke, we no mind shmoke!" Neither did they mind him, for the clatter continued till the Red gave in. With no other incident we arrived at the station, where we took omnibus to the Hotel l’Isle d’Albion in the Rue St. Honore, where we passed what remained of Tuesday night, which to me was one of pain and sleeplessness.

At length morning came, for to me the night had been very tedious. Before I rose, I was in so much pain in the region of the liver and right shoulder, that I could scarcely turn in bed without crying out. I was much afraid that I was about to be detained in Paris longer than would have been agreeable or convenient; but on rising and standing erect upon the floor, all pain vanished without return. After breakfast we went to the post office to see if there were any letters in the poste restante for either of us. From thence we directed our way to the Hotel des Princes, 109 Rue Richelieu, where a letter informed us that three acquaintances from London would be glad to see us. Finding them at home, we arranged to get our passports viséd, and then to visit the principal places in Paris. The former was a troublesome affair to us who were unacquainted with the routine. We went to the proefecture of police, which was quite a long walk from our hotel. There we were informed that we must get our passports signed at the British Embassy before they could be stamped at the prefecture. We took them to the Ambassador’s, where we were told to leave them, and call again in two or three hours. Having received them at the expiration of that time, we again proceeded to the police office, where the formality was at last perfected. But even then we could not leave France without permission. We could leave Paris, but would not be permitted to go on board the steamer for England unless we could produce a consular authorisation to do so at Boulogne. This obtained, and delivered to the policeman at the gangway, we breathed once more the air of that liberty which finds no more an asylum save in the transoceanic regions of Britain and Anglo-Saxon America.

The root of Paris is the little island in the midst of the river Seine, known as La Cité. It was chosen as the site of a town on account of the security afforded by the river, which was then rapid and formidable. The city dates from a long period before Julius Caesar; indeed, it is alleged that its first foundation may be traced to a period more remote than 830 years before Christ. It was originally called Lutéce, or Lutetia, but the name was subsequently changed to Paris, out of compliment, say some histories, to Priam. For a long time the old town was a miserable place to live in, but in the reign of Philip Augustus it became vastly improved. This king caused it to be paved, owing, it is said, to the annoyance caused to him one day while standing at the window of his palace by a carriage passing through a mass of filth, and emitting a most detestable stench. The city was possessed by the Romans about 500 years. It was first strengthened by them with walls for defence; but generally was not deemed of much importance, and till the time of Philip Augustus, was greatly neglected by the kings of France. Such was the little acorn from which the Parisian oak originally sprang. The superficies of the city to the fortified walls is now 65,678 acres; and the population when the census was last taken, was 1,200,459. By including the troops in garrison, and the average of strangers making only a temporary stay in the town, the amount of the inhabitants of Paris may now be reckoned at about 1,300,000.

To view Paris and to see it, must not be regarded as the same thing. To see Paris implies a visit to all "the lions" of the place—a visit of inspection; a being in the great public buildings and minutely examining the antiquities, works of art, and curiosities they contain. The time at our disposal would not permit us to do this; so that we had to content ourselves with viewing Paris, and seeing two or three of its notabilia. To accomplish this with despatch, our party, consisting now of six, hired a carriage at two francs an hour, and ordered the conducteur to drive us to the Louvre, Tuileries, Elysée, Place de la Concorde, Barrière de l’Etoile, Hotel de Ville, Notre Dame, Church of the Madeleine, Place de la Bastille, with its Column of July, &c., &c., &c., that we might view their exteriors, if no more. The best points for viewing Paris are the towers of Notre Dame, the Pantheon, the Arc de Triomphe de l’Etoile, the dome of the Invalides, or the heights of Montmartre, when its panorama is complete. There is no indistinctness or confusion in the prospect; every palace, church, or public edifice stands distinctly before the eye; and interspersed with the foliage of the gardens and the Boulevards, the whole forms a prospect of great beauty.

We not only viewed but inspected the Madeleine. This is an ecclesiastical bazaar, called by the papists "a church," interesting to an anti-iconist because of its architecture and decorations, as works displaying the skill of the idolaters who finished it. The first stone was laid by Louis XV, in 1764. Great changes were made in the plans originally proposed, and Napoleon intended to convert the building into a Temple of Glory. On the accession of Louis XVIII, the original purpose of forming a magnificent church was adhered to, and enormous expenses were incurred in pulling down and altering parts of the building. It is formed after an ancient temple, rectangular in form, and 326 feet long by 130 feet wide. It is raised on a basement 8 feet high, and surmounted with a peristyle of 52 Corinthian columns. The southern part is ornamented with a bas-relief 118 feet long and 22 high, composed of 19 figures representing Magdalene at the feet of Jesus, praying for the salvation of sinners! On the left there are some angels looking on a converted sinner, and Innocence is represented as approaching Christ, supported by Faith and Hope. There is also an angel receiving the soul of a saint; an avenging angel driving before him Envy, Lewdness, Hypocrisy, and Avarice—who then in Paris will escape him? —and another angel thrusting the souls of the condemned into everlasting flames. Around the exterior of the building, in niches at regular intervals, are idol-statues of some of the most distinguished hypocrites of the Romish calendar, called "saints." The great doors are of bronze, 32 feet high by 13½ feet wide. The interior of this magnificent structure forms an immense hall without any aisles. The light is admitted from domes. Round the whole runs a marble balustrade. The roof is ornamented with beautiful sculptures, which produce a fine effect, being splendidly gilt. On the walls are a number of paintings, the largest of which is on the high altar. Christ is surrounded by the apostles, and at his feet Mary Magdalene. In other parts of the picture are represented all the principal personages who have maintained or extended the Romish superstition, which in Europe they style "the Christian faith!"—as, the Emperor Constantine, Peter the Hermit, Richard Coeur de Lion, Charlemagne, several Popes, Joan of Arc, Cardinal Richelieu, Louis XIII, and Napoleon le grand.

The contrast between the Madeleine and Notre Dame is great. The interior of the latter is gloomy as a sepulchre, and remarkably plain, the first French Revolution having made havoc of its trumpery. It had formerly a magnificent set of bells, but it cast them all into cannon save one, to blow to their friend the Devil the crowned and mitred patrons of the ecclesiastical diabolism that had slain the Witnesses of God. The bell that escaped had been rhantised, or "christened," as they call it, Emmanuel-Louise-Therese, and weighs 32,000 pounds. The foundation of this cathedral is not known. Its high altar was consecrated 1182, and its idolatrous service is said to have been first performed by the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem in 1185. The revolution destroyed this altar to the Queen of Heaven—a good work, which Napoleon, the man of that revolution, for political stage effect, rebuilt of costly marble. The western front of the building is very fine, the towers being especially admired by architects. Notre Dame, so called because dedicated to the deified ghost of the Mother of Jesus, which, as the presiding goddess in the European heavens, is styled by its worshippers "Our Lady"—is 390 feet long, 144 feet wide at the transepts, 102 feet high, the western towers being 204 feet, and the width of the western front 128 feet. Its exterior is so richly decorated that a description of it, they say, would fill a volume. As then to write this is beyond my purpose, I shall conclude my notice of this Cathedral Bazaar of old French superstition and modern hypocritism by simply remarking that if the reader desire to read such a volume, let him visit Paris and observe it for himself.

We found the Champs Elysées, the Elysian Fields, a truly "magnificent promenade." It extends about a mile from the Place de la Concorde to the Barrière de l’Etoile. It is ornamented with lamps, fountains, &c., and is a favourite resort for the Parisians. At particular seasons it is the scene of great gayety; but in 1815, of great national mortification and vexation, because of the encampment there of the English army after the battle of Waterloo.

But it would take up more of these columns than can be spared to tell the reader of all we saw or that is seeable in this emporium of art, fashion, vice, superstition, folly, and, by consequence, of necessary despotism; for such a people can only be ruled with an iron hand. The weather was fine, but the moral and political heavens around us of the gloomiest type. We were in Sodom, where every thing indicated that the wickedness of the people is great. Having finished a drive of several hours, we dismissed our conducteur, and repaired to a restaurant in the Boulevards des Italiens, where we dined. In the evening we returned to our hotel. At 9 P.M. we were en route for England via Bologne-sur-Mer, where we arrived in the morning at 6. Having breakfasted and obtained a permit to leave France, we went on board at 7½ P.M., and in two hours and a quarter made fast to the custom-house wharf at Folkestone. Our baggage being passed, we took the cars to Dover, distant about seven miles. At this place we deposited our valises at "a comfortable inn," such as you only find in England; and then sallied forth for a visit to the Castle, now no longer frowning, but looking with great affability towards "Calais green." On entering its precincts, I was stopped by a sentinel, who told me I could not pass. I was surprised at this, seeing that he allowed my two friends to proceed without interruption. I replied that I had as much right to visit the castle as the Duke of Wellington. But this he disputed, giving as a reason that I was a foreigner, and that his orders were to let no foreigners pass without special license. He came to this conclusion from my not having that beard-less-boyish appearance at that time so common to the English. Having been detained long enough, I gave him to understand that I was a native, which he did not believe until my smooth-faced, beardless friends testified that I was indeed a true man, and no spy. The castle visited, dinner despatched, and the bills paid, we ticketed ourselves at 5 P.M. for London, where we arrived in five hours and a half. In three weeks from that time I was crossing the Atlantic for the United States, in whose waters we cast anchor after an absence of two years and a half. Thus ended an enterprise which opened a new chapter in our history, connected with the advocacy and propagation of the truth.

* * *