Both banks of the river, which here approach each other and are rather steep, are well clothed with trees, and form a picturesque scene. Immediately above and below the bridge, these banks, retiring from each other, leave between their bases and the river a wide level of meadow-land, which, being everywhere bounded by low thickly-wooded hills, and, as before mentioned, thickly sprinkled with herds of fine cattle or luxuriant crops of hay, now almost ready for mowing, afford scenes of a different but not less pleasing character. On the right the hills, projecting like a promontory, and blending themselves with those on the left, enclose these fine meadows in an amphitheatre of beautifully variegated and tufted foliage, unbroken by buildings or any indication of the haunts of man; whilst the left bank, less thickly wooded, presents here and there intervening fields, the high thatched roofs of farms and cottages, and, pre-eminent amongst the whole, the spire of Denderlue peeping through the foliage. Amongst other excursions, one was of a more than commonly interesting nature, since it brought me acquainted, not only with a very lovely spot, but also with a singularly eccentric character--one whose history is of so romantic a nature, that I ever regret not having made myself master of it in all its details; I mean Paul Visconti, Marquis d’Acornati and Lord of Gaesbeke, the chateau of which he inhabits. The first notice we had of this singular man was from some officers of the 23d Light Dragoons, who had been cantoned in his village. On their first arrival the old gentleman was quite furious at the insult offered him in sending troops thither at all, but especially without his having been consulted. The officers, having quartered their men, proceeded to take up their own abode in the chateau, and the Marquis, being aware of this, closed his gates, and made preparations to resist. His garrison consisted of two or three ancient domestics and six or eight young boys. On approaching the gates, the officers were somewhat surprised at seeing guns pointed at them from several embrasures, and at the same time a venerable turbaned head, projecting from one of them, demanded, in good English, how they dared trespass on the property of the Marquis d’Acornati, peremptorily bidding them to depart, or take the consequences. The captain, a true English gentleman, having heard something of the Marquis’s peculiarities from the villagers, instead of resenting the opposition, humoured the old man’s whim, and commenced a parley in the true language and all the forms of chivalry. This was touching the Marquis in a tender point. The gates were thrown open, as were his arms, to these courteous strangers, whom he received and entertained with the hospitality of the olden times during their stay, mourned their departure, and never mentioned them afterwards but in the highest terms of praise. Some of my officers had already