of St Gudule, standing upon a terrace, formed a striking feature. The tufted verdure of the trees on the ramparts enclosing the city enabled one easily to follow their outline along the summit of the heights, whilst on the face of the slope the ramparts themselves, with their venerable grey towers, gave additional interest to the scene; the houses, rising in terraces, as it were, tier above tier, and everywhere intermingled with foliage; innumerable churches and chapels; palaces, too, amongst which, most conspicuous, was that of Prince d’Aremberg and the Cour de Flandres, and in the lower town the beautiful Stadthuys;--all united to form the glorious picture. In the vale below, the river Senne wound its way slowly along amidst green meadows, the surface of which was broken by long stripes of white linen, spread there to bleach. In the west and south it was closed by a belt of black forest--the ever-memorable Forest of Soigney. The Senne was ravishing--it seemed as if one could never tire of looking on it; and as I lingered to do so, the more prominent features in the history of that fair city came crowding on my mind, and, now that the scene of action lay before me, embodied themselves to my mind’s eye. At first the city seems to have been confined to the borders of the marsh, and thence gradually to have crept up the hillside, until at last it was circumscribed by a rampart--the lower part of the town being evidently the older, and of a different style entirely from the upper. Descending the hill, I entered this lower town by the Barrière de Gand and a long winding narrow street, bordered on either side by houses of black stone, three storeys (generally) high, but of a mean appearance, without _trottoirs_ for the foot-passengers, and the mud above my horse’s fetlocks; a little farther on I passed the fish-market, and a fearful penance it was--for the strongest stomach, I should think, could hardly resist its noisome smell, arising from a fearful accumulation of garbage flung beneath the tables.