An admirable regulation prevails throughout the entire of Germany with regard to posting, which might, with the best effect, be introduced in England, and without any government interference in the affair. Before starting, the post master, who is an officer of the crown, delivers to the traveller a printed form signed by himself, and specifying the items of every charge for the stage he is setting out upon, the distance, the number of horses, the mileage, and the tolls; this, if erroneous, is corrected on the spot, and the stranger is thus freed from all wrangling or apprehension of imposture. The posting tariff, at the same time, regulates the “_trinkgelt_,” the fee of the postillion, which is but five silver groschen, or six-pence for a German mile containing four and two-thirds English; but this the traveller is expected, though he must not be _solicited_ to exceed, provided he is satisfied with the performance of his post-boy, and in general double the amount, or at the utmost three-half-pence per mile will excite a lively gratitude. The face of the country, between Aix-la-Chapelle and the Rhine, without being picturesque in any degree, is proverbially rich and luxuriant, especially the ancient Duchy of Juliers, now extinguished, which surrounds the fortified city of the same name. Every town and village we passed through was but a congregation of agricultural dwellings--every building was converted into a barn--and even from the windows of some ruinous towers, we saw the projecting sheaves of the early harvest, which had been already gathered in. Juliers, where we breakfasted, is a fortified city, built in the midst of an apparently swampy level, but so begirt and encompassed with ramparts and fosses, that it is said to be impregnable to every assault but that of starvation. We drove over drawbridges and under covered ways without end; the passage winding from side to side, till it seemed to issue in the opposite direction from that at which it entered the side of the fortification, and we halted for an excellent breakfast at a most unpromising inn, the “Drei Königen,” in the centre of the town, which as Juliers is the highway to Dusseldorff and Cologne, was beset by diligences and calèches of every conceivable shape and model. Juliers has no trade, and its sole support seems to be the regular victualling of a garrison of 3,000 Prussians, and the almost equally regular reception of twice as many English tourists on wing to the Rhine, or returning from it.