Nothing on retrospection seemed to me so extraordinary as the shortness of time in which these wonderful events had happened. I could scarcely convince myself that they had actually been comprised in the short space of three days--so long did it seem to be! Yet in that brief space how many gallant spirits had death arrested in their glorious career of honour and immortality--how many hearts had grief rendered desolate! In these eventful days the fates of empires and of kings had been decided, and the trembling nations of Europe freed from the vengeance and the yoke of the tyranny which menaced them with subjugation. If the passage of time were to be computed by the succession of events, rather than by moments, we should indeed have lived a lifetime! an age! for it was "eternity of thought." Every thing that had happened, even immediately before these events, seemed like the faintly-remembered traces of a dream, or the fading and distant images of long past years. It seemed as if at once "From the tablet of my memory Were wiped away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And this remembrance all alone remain'd, Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmixed with baser matter." Yes! the days, the months, the years of my future life may pass away and be forgotten, and all the changes that mark them fade like a morning dream; but the minutest circumstance of these eventful days must be remembered "while Memory holds her seat;" for such moments and such feelings in life can never return more. A fortnight elapsed, which we passed in making the tour of Holland; in gliding along its slow canals, visiting its populous cities, gazing at its splendid palaces, yawning over its green ditches, wondering at its great dykes, its prodigious sluices, and its innumerable windmills; admiring its clean houses, laughing at the humours of its fairs, and falling fast asleep in its churches.