Of all these establishments, none of the ornaments, or materials, that were portable, now remain at Manheim. The astronomical instruments, the celebrated collection of statues, the paintings and the prints have been removed, together with the Electoral treasure of diamonds and jewels, some to Munich and some to other places of security. But, though we missed a sight, which even its rarity would have rendered welcome, it seems proper, after such frequent notice of the barrenness of Germany, to mention what has been collected in one of its chief cities. The expectation of an attack had dismantled other houses, besides the Elector's, of their furniture; for, in the Cour Palatine, a very spacious, and really a good inn, not a curtain and scarcely a spoon was left. _A cause de la guerre_ was, indeed, the general excuse for every deficiency, used by those, who had civility enough to offer one; but, in truth, the war had not often incroached upon the ordinary stock of conveniencies in Germany, which was previously too low to be capable of much reduction. The places, which the French had actually entered, are, of course, to be excepted; but it may otherwise be believed, that Germany can lose little by a war, more than the unfortunate labourers, whom it forces to become soldiers. The loss of wealth must come chiefly from other countries. A rich nation may give present treasure; a commercial nation may give both present treasure and the means of future competence. The land near Manheim is chiefly planted with tobacco and madder, and the landscape is enlivened with small, but neat countryhouses, scattered along the margin of the Neckar. The neighbourhood abounds in pleasant rides, and, whether you wind the high banks of the majestic Rhine, or the borders of the more tranquil Neckar, the mountains of the Bergstrasse, tumbled upon each other in wild confusion, generally form the magnificent back ground of the scene. On returning from an excursion of this kind at the close of evening, the soldiers at the gates are frequently heard chanting martial songs in parts and chorus; a sonorous music in severe unison with the solemnity of the hour and the imperfect forms, that meet the eye, of sentinels keeping watch beneath the dusky gateways, while their brethren, reposing on the benches without, mingle their voices in the deep chorus. Rude and simple as are these strains, they are often singularly impressive, and touch the imagination with something approaching to horror, when the circumstances of the place are remembered, and it is considered how soon these men, sent to inflict death on others, may themselves be thrown into the unnumbered heap of the military slain. SCHWETZINGEN.