The very little time I had to myself did not admit of seeing half the place, and my wanderings were pretty much confined to the neighbourhood of the line between Bruges Straet and the barrack. Sometimes, however, I did extend a little to the right and left, and in one of these excursions got a glimpse, but no more, of some pleasant gardens--public, I suppose--in which numerous walks, overarched with verdure, intersected each other, and presented, as the weather was hot, most inviting retreats. At another time I wandered as far as the Citadel,--I suppose the one built by William III. of England, not that of Charles V., of which not a vestige remains. It must have been but an insignificant work;--the plan, I think, a parallelogram. The mounds of the ramparts remain entire, and the wet ditch. At present it is completely overlooked by the neighbouring houses. From this work, which is situated just without the _barrière_ of the road to Thermonde, one commands a prospect, perhaps, of its kind unrivalled. Here are no picturesque or romantic features, but the eye wanders unimpeded over a region as flat as the ocean, and, like it, only terminating in the distant horizon. This region is amongst the richest in the world, and, spite of its flatness, offers to our view a scene at once pleasing and astonishing. Verdant meadows, enameled with myriads of yellow and white flowers, amidst which graze innumerable herds of the finest cattle, extend for miles from the city, and then, intermingled with corn-fields, groves, and thickets, amidst which are seen everywhere villages, farms, and scattered houses, melt gradually away into the blue distance. In the immediate foreground, a singular hillock, crowned by a little chapel and environed by trees, rears its form and enhances the picture by variety of feature and the interesting peeps admitted between the openings of the foliage. The road from Thermonde passes through this grove, and, covered as it generally is (or was, when I saw it) with groups of market-people, carts, and cattle, &c., throws a charming animation into the scene. The lengthened perspective, too, of this road running away in a straight line bordered by trees, and gradually diminishing until lost in the distance, breaks the unvaried flatness of the meadows, and prevents one feeling them monotonous. Returning from the Citadel, I joined the rustic crowd pouring in through the _barrière_, and, following the stream, was brought by it into an extensive square surrounded by lofty and antique-looking houses, apparently the exclusive abode of the humbler classes of merchants or artisans. The crowd here was immense; and it was not without difficulty that I made my way through it. I think this is the Marché aux Grains. Not far from thence I stumbled on the great gun, called the Basilisc,[5] said to have been cast by order of Charles V., to overawe the Ghentois. As far as I could see, this enormous piece, which reposes on a mass of brickwork