While passing the picturesque little town of Oberwesel, and just beyond the Lurley-rocks, we raise the eye to the ruins of SCHOMBERG, possessing some interest to the British traveller, as the patrimonial castle of Duke Schomberg, who lost his life in the battle of the Boyne. Alas! that the very name of a mouldering ruin should, after the lapse of a century and a half, engender in the breasts of the same people, living under the same government, professing the same religion, speaking the same language, and having the same interests, such deadly sentiments of hatred and animosity! No two feudal robbers and enemies on the banks of the Rhine, ever viewed each other with such cut-throat propensities, as do the Orange-man and White-boy on the banks of the Boyne! A century and a half hence, when the fiery passions of the present day shall have long been quenched in the grave, and the immortal spirits shall be awaiting the verdict of a final tribunal, posterity will scarcely believe that, amongst their ancestors, Christian charity meant murderous extermination—and that the surest road to Heaven was that which was tracked with the blood of our neighbours! The glorious orb of day shines as joyously over those mouldering ruins, as when the proud castle first rose in majesty over the frowning precipices—nay, as when the Rhine itself first began to trickle from the virgin snows of the Alps:—and why should not the heavenly light of Christianity shed its benign influence over the professors of that faith, as well now, as when the REDEEMER inculcated charity and forbearance during his mission on earth? No! It is much easier to preach than to practise the Christian virtues—and the former is considered the more efficacious of the two, by the disciples of FAITH. THE SEVEN SISTERS; OR, THE FATE OF COQUETTES. (_Legend the Seventh._)