There is one feature in European scenery, generally, more prevalent, however, in Catholic than in other countries, to which we must allude before we close. The bourg, or town, with its gray castellated outlines, and possibly with walls of the middle ages, is, almost invariably, clustered around the high, pointed roofs and solemn towers of the church. With us, how different is the effect! Half a dozen ill-shaped, and yet pretending cupolas, and other ambitious objects, half the time in painted wood, just peer above the village, while the most aspiring roof is almost invariably that of the tavern. It may be easy enough to account for this difference, and to offer a sufficient apology for its existence. But to the observant lover of the picturesque the effect is not only unpleasant but often repulsive. No one of ordinary liberality would wish to interfere with freedom of conscience in order to obtain fine landscapes; but this is one of the hundred instances in which the thoughtful man finds reason to regret that the church, as it exists among us, is not really more Catholic. To conclude, we concede to Europe much the noblest scenery, in its Alps, Pyrenees, and Apennines; in its objects of art, as a matter of course; in all those effects which depend on time and association, in its monuments, and in this impress of the past which may be said to be reflected in its countenance; while we claim for America the freshness of a most promising youth, and a species of natural radiance that carries the mind with reverence to the source of all that is glorious around us. From the United Service Magazine A BULL FIGHT AT RONDA. The ride from Gibraltar to San Roque is familiar to all the inhabitants of the rock, and notwithstanding that the soil, the natives, and their costume vary much from similar objects in England, and that the plants and scenery are totally of a foreign character, yet from the number of English people on the road, one finds it difficult to believe one's-self in Spain until on the other side of San Roque.