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Afunt SBS to his ca
Jang sa 1864
A Legend of the Rhitre
BY J. FENIMORE COOPER.
e from mighly wrongs to petty perfidy,
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME
THEN YO::K PUBLIC Lil ARY
ASTOR. LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS R
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by Carey and Lea, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania
" I shall crave your forbearance a little; may be, I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself."
Measure for Measure.
CONTRARY to a long-established usage, a summer had been passed within the walls of a large town; but, the moment of liberation arrived, the bird does not quit its cage with greater pleasure, than that with which post-horses were commanded. We were four in a light travelling calêche, which strong Nor man cattle transported merrily towards their native province.. For a time we quitted Paris, the queen of modern cities, with its tumults and its order; its palaces and its lanes; its elegance and its filth; its restless inhabitants and its stationary politicians; its theories and its practices; its riches and its poverty; its gay and its sorrowful; its rentiers and its patriots; its young liberals and its old illiberals; its three estates and its equality; its delicacy of speech and its strength of conduct; its government of the people and its people of no gov ernment; its bayonets and its moral force ; its science and its ignorance; its amusements and its revolutions; its resistance that goes backward, and its movement that stands still ; its milliners, its philosophers, its opera-dancers, its poets, its fiddlers, its bankers, and its cooks. Although so long enthralled within the barriers, it was not easy to quit Paris, entirely without regret-Paris, which every stranger censures and every stranger seeks; which moralists abhor and imitate; which causes the heads of the old to shake, and the hearts of the young to beat ;-Paris, the centre of so much that is excellent, and of so much that cannot be named !
That night we laid our heads on rustic pillows, far from the French capital. The succeeding day we snuffed the air of the sea. Passing through Artois and French Flanders, on the fifth morning we entered the new kingdom of Belgium, by the bistorical and respectable towns of Douaï, and Tournai, and
Ath. At every step we met the flag which flutters over the pavilion of the Thuileries, and recognized the confident air and swinging gait of French soldiers. They had just been employed in propping the crumbling throne of the house of Saxe. To us they seemed as much at home as when they lounged on the Quai d'Orsay.
There was still abundant evidence visible at Brussels, of the fierce nature of the struggle that liad expelled the Dutch. Forty-six shells were sticking in the side of a single building of no great size, while ninety-three grape-shot were buried in one of its pilasters! In our own rooms, too, there were fearful signs of war. The mirrors were in fragments, the walls broken by langrage, the wood-work of the beds was pierced by shot, and the furniture was marked by rude encounters. The trees of the park were mutilated in a thousand places, and one of the little Cupids, that we had left laughing above the principal gate three years before, was now maimed and melancholy, whilst its companion had altogether taken flight on the wings of a cannon-ball. Tnough dwelling in the very centre of so many hostile vestiges, we happily escaped the sight of human blood; for we understood from the obliging Swiss who presides over the hotel, that his cellars, at all times in repute, were in more than usual request during the siege. From so much proof we were left to infer, that the Belgians had made stout battle for their emancipation, one sign at least that they merited to be free.
Our road lay by Louvain, Thirlemont, Liège, Aix-la-Chapelle, and Juliers, to the Rhine. The former of these towns had been the scene of a contest between the hostile armies, the preceding week. As the Dutch had been accused of unusual excesses in their advance, we looked out for the signs. How many of these marks had been already obliterated, we could not well ascertain ; but those which were still visible gave us reason to think that the invaders did not merit all the opprobrium they had received. Each hour, as life advances, am I made to see how capricious and vulgar is the immortality conferred by a newspaper!
It would be injustice to the ancient Bishopric of Liège to pass its beautiful scenery without a comment. The country