Being built in a dead flat, the town has of course no sewers--it was Saturday evening when we arrived, and in honour of the approaching Sabbath, I presume, every house within the walls seemed busied in pumping out its cesspool and washing the contents along the channels of the streets, creating an atmosphere above that “all the perfumes of Arabia would not sweeten.” This, however, is an incident by no means peculiar to Ostend, the great majority of the cities in the “Low Countries” being similarly circumstanced. Although a place of importance five hundred years ago, every trace of antiquity in Ostend has been destroyed by the many “battles, sieges, fortunes,” it has passed. It was enclosed in the fifteenth century, fortified by the Prince of Orange in the sixteenth, and almost razed to the ground in its defence against the Spaniards in the seventeenth, when Sir Francis Vere, (one the military cavaliers, whom, with Sir Philip Sydney and others, Elizabeth in her capricious sympathy, had from time to time sent to the aid of the protestant cause in the Netherlands), held its command at the close of its remarkable siege by the forces of the Archdukes Albert and Isabella.[2] This memorable siege, which the system of antiquated tactics then in vogue, protracted for upwards of three years, “became a school for the young nobility of all Europe, who repaired, to either one or the other party, to learn the principles and the practice of attack and defence.” The brothers Ambrose and Frederick Spinola here earned their high reputation as military strategists, and the former eventually forced Ostend to surrender, after every building had been levelled by artillery, and innumerable thousands had found a grave around its walls. In the subsequent troubles of the eighteenth century, it was again repeatedly besieged and taken, sharing in all these disastrous wars which have earned for Belgium, the appropriate soubriquet of the “Cock-pit of Europe.” Its fortifications are still maintained in tolerable repair, one large battery called Fort Wellington, is of modern construction, and a long rampart, which was originally designed to protect the town from the inundation of the sea, has been converted into a glacis, and strengthened with stone, brought, at a considerable cost, from Tournay, as the alluvial sands of Flanders cannot supply even paving stones for her own cities. The summit of this defence is an agreeable promenade along the sea, which rolls up to its base, and as far as the eye can reach, stretch long hills of sand, which the wind sets in motion, and has driven into heaps against the walls and fortifications. The level and beautiful strand, however, renders Ostend an agreeable bathing-place, and it is fashionably frequented for that purpose during the months of summer, when the town presents the usual _agréments_ of a watering place, baths, ball rooms, cafés, and a theatre.