There is already much order in the city: the streets are swept, the dung-heaps, which fifty years before, even in towns of some calibre, lay in front of the doors--the ancient cleanliness having disappeared in the war--are again removed by an ordinance, which the councillors of the sovereign have sent to the superior officials, and these to the senate. The stock of cattle in the streets is also much diminished; the pigs and cattle, which not long before 1700 enjoyed themselves amidst the children at play, in the dirt of the street, are strictly kept in farmyards and out-houses, for the government does not like that the cities should keep cattle within the walls, for it has introduced the _octroi_, and a disbanded non-commissioned officer paces backwards and forwards near the gate, with his cane in his hand in order to examine the cans and baskets of the country people. Thus the rearing of cattle is carried on in the needy suburbs and farms: it is only in the small country towns that citizens employ agriculture as a means of support. There is a police also now, that exercises a strict vigilance over beggars and vagabonds, and the passport is indispensable for ordinary travellers. Constables are visible in the streets, and watch the public-houses. At night a fire watchman is posted near the council-house, and the warders of the towers by means of flags and large speaking trumpets, give danger signals. The engine-house is also kept in good order; clumsy fire-barrels stand beside the council-house under open sheds, and above them hang the iron-cased fire-ladders. The night watch are tolerably watchful and discreet; after the great war they here and there sang offensive verses, when they called out the hours, but now the pious parson has insisted upon both words and melody being spiritual.