the recollection of their former valour; they were utterly incapable, even if they had been inclined to resist the progress of the French in 1794; and the whole series of the exploits of the Belgian soldiers from Quatre Bras to Hasselt and Louvain, with the single exception of the affair of 1830 at Brussels, is but a succession of laughable scampers, almost before coming within the range of a shot. In appearance, the soldiery, whom we saw at Ghent, Brussels, and elsewhere, are awkward and diminutive little fellows, such as one could hardly see cased in uniform, on which the tailors have evidently worked by guess, without creating a smile, even without the inseparable association of the _braves Belges_, which recurs to one’s mind every time they pass. The officers, who are always lounging about the railroad stations, are much the same, and with their savage mustachios, fierce black locks, and breasts padded out till they look like pouter pigeons, they strongly remind us of the military air of the riding-master at Astley’s. Heavens! how unlike their Belgian sires of old, Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold, War in each eye and freedom in each brow, How much unlike the sons of Belgium now! Having come by the railroad to Louvain, we hired a calèche to return across the country to Brussels by Terveuren. The drive is a very beautiful one, running along the slope of the gentle, wooded hills, at the foot of one of which Louvain is situated. Terveuren is a pretty village built down the glen between two hills, with a picturesque old church on the summit of one of them. It was formerly the seat of some manufactures, and in 1759, Prince Charles of Lorraine established in it works for printing calico, and took the utmost pains to bring artists from Switzerland and Alsace, but it has long since been utterly abandoned. The park, on the verge of which the village is built, has been for centuries the vice-regal residence for the Austrian governors of the Netherlands. It is beautifully wooded, and the irregularity of the grounds afford some exquisite landscapes. The present palace was erected by the nation, and presented along with that at Brussels to the Prince of Orange, as a recognition of his services at Waterloo. Like it, it has been waiting the fate of the final treaty of partition, and its gorgeous furniture, which has been undisturbed since 1830, is now in process of removal to the Hague. The building has no external beauty, a heavy solid edifice without decorations of any kind, and its grand charms, its paintings, and garniture, it derives from the truly princely taste of its owner. We drove home through the Forest of Soigné, and through the village of Ixelles to Brussels. * * * * *