for dinner, to look for one instant at the vehicle, as it passed. If an earthquake had rumbled up and down the street, it could not have produced less excitment—and probably would not have produced more. The carriage went in peace and sunshine upon its way, and the cook or the good house-wife bent her attention to her dishes again. But let me say a little more of the town before I proceed farther; for it is an object of great interest to me, even in memory. From the hill on which it stood, and the old walls which surrounded it on every side, rising up from the verge of the descent, and looking like the battlements of a raised pie, might be seen a very rich and beautiful country, with a river running round the base of the large rock on which one stood. The situation was a very commanding one; for though rising ground, deserving the name of high hills, was to be seen in the distance, and many a sweep and undulation lay between, yet the elevation of the town was sufficient to domineer over the whole country around within any thing like cannon-shot. The walls, however, were destitute of guns; and the various gates, with their old stone arches, seemed formed for no other purpose than to let the morning and evening sun shine through, and the country-people to bring in eatables and drinkables for the supply of the place. They afforded, too, a place of refuge for certain old gentlemen who engaged themselves in examining all itinerant merchants, making good women open their baskets, and running long iron things, like spits, into loads of hay and straw, in order to make sure that there was no wine or brandy concealed within. For all these services they exacted a trifling toll, or excise duty, upon a great number of articles of provision brought into the town. They were very unobtrusive people, however, seldom, if ever seen, except in the early part of market-days, and ever ready to retreat into their little dens by the side of the gate, as soon as their functions were performed. The great church stood at one side of a little square, free and open enough—always very clean, like the rest of the town, but always looking exceedingly cool also—for the very summer sun looked cool there, as I have observed, and one hardly felt the difference between June and December, if the day was clear. I don’t know why all that square never looked gay or cheerful—for it seemed to have every thing to make it so; and I have seen it, on days of festivity, tricked out in all that could assist. On the Sunday, a great multitude of the good people of the town, dressed out in their brightest attire, were continually flocking in and out of the church. On festival days you would see garlands of flowers, and banners, and rich vestments, and beautifully dressed altars under arbors of green leaves, and a little body of soldiers, with gay uniforms, glittering muskets, and cocked-hats, would appear to keep the ground as a procession passed. But still it never looked cheerful. All