The town itself has nothing else to shew, except its tall gaunt-looking old houses, crowded into narrow lanes and passages, the dullness of which is only relieved by the showy windows of its shops, shining with cutlery and polished brass work, the staple trade of Namur. It divides this manufacture with Gembloux, a little town, a few miles to the north, which is as famous for the coarser articles of “Sheffield ware,” as Namur is for the finer. The prosperity of the trade, however, has been declining ever since 1814, when Belgium not only lost the French market, but the protection of the French douaniers to protect her own from being invaded by the English; her decline was consummated by losing, in addition, the supply of the Dutch colonies, by the events of “the glorious days” of September 1830, and the entire of the workmen now engaged at Namur, do not exceed one thousand. Cheapness is of course their grand aim, and some penknives which we bought surprisingly low, we speedily discovered, like Peter Pindar’s cutlery to be “made _for sale_.” The Athenæum of Namur has attained some celebrity by the chair of geology, which was established by the King of Holland, and for the study of which, the rocky ravines and valleys of the environs present abundant opportunities. The Hotel de Harscamp is excellent, and after a most comfortable night, disturbed only by the thundering moans of a most inopportune réveille, rung, from the bells of the church hard by, every night at _eleven_, and every morning at _four_ o’clock; we started, before breakfast the following morning for Huy and Liege, along the descent of the Meuse. The same delightful scenery accompanied us, which we had overtaken the evening before on descending to Namur. On either side, high, beetling cliffs of limestone and basalt, in every crevice of which, spring the hardy roots of the little mountain ash, now covered with its ruby berries, and from every crag, luxuriant creepers hung down their “lush of leaves,” which the early frost was already beginning to tinge with crimson. Every spot that could afford soil for the roots of a tree, was covered with waving foliage, and into the rich recesses of the cliffs ran up little velvety meadows from the verge of the river, in which were nestled some of the most beautiful and romantic villas and chateaux. Occasionally, on the summit of the steep ravine, in the distance, were perched the buildings of a suppressed convent, or the ruins of some feudal castle; and the very limestone rock itself, worn into fantastic shapes by the weather, not unfrequently presented all the features of a fortress, jutting out over the river below it. The road ran along a broad, rich plain, intersected by the river, with fruit-trees planted along the hedge-rows, and yellow crops of corn which had not yet been severed. The boats were already on the river, and innumerable cars and waggons were toiling along the road, laden