my recollection by a stanza of an old song, which alleged that

"The Duke of York to Dunkirk came."

Songs are ofttimes remembered when prosaic history is forgotten-how important, then, that even our ballads should be truthful, as well as fitted

"To point a moral and adoin a tale.”

This town now contains 1,800 houses and 24,000 inhabitants. Some fragments of the naval arsenal remain, which, with enterprise and encouragement, might serve as the rudiments of successful competition, and supply the port with trade and shipping, which still linger with the inhabitants, who pursue the whale fishery. I looked with reflective interest upon this decayed city as the extreme boundary of French territory, and lying contiguous to Nieuport.

The situation of this town, amidst the swamps of the Isser, which flows through the sandy plain of this coast, though the first of Belgian towns, has few attractions for the fugitive tourist. Yet my associations derived from the early history of Europe suggested some recollections which brought to mind the strifes and struggles for liberty by which the infant republic of the seven provinces was matured and consolidated. On the sands of Nieuport, and almost within sight of the track in which I now sailed, Prince Maurice met the Archduke Albert-the former as the general of the seven united provinces, and the latter as the viceroy of Spain in the government of the Netherlands. The forces of Maurice were composed of adventurers, as allies to the Dutch, from the English, Scotch, French, German, and Swiss nations, under officers of such celebrity as Sir Horace and Sir Francis Vere; while Archduke Albert commanded Irish, Belgian, Walloon, Italian, and Spanish confederates, led by Mendoza and La Berlotta

-an epitome of Europe at that day. On these sands, (on the 2nd July, 1600,) two hundred and almost fifty years ago, more than 20,000 chosen men from these eleven nations rushed into close and deadly conflict; and, abandoning the more distant combat of fire-arms, with pike and sword, man to man, and foot to foot, their ensanguined weapons crossing each other, and every man seeking only the death of his antagonist, they panted for each other's blood in the phrase of martial history, nothing exceeded. their mutual display of skill and courage, while not an inch of ground was gained or lost. The artillery of the Dutch patriots alone kept up its well-directed and destructive fire upon the Spanish cavalry, which was thus broken and driven back on their infantry, throwing it into confusion. The Archduke, wounded on the cheek, unhorsed, and compelled to quit the field, left his war-steed to gallop alone before his soldiers' view, and thus spread the alarm throughout the royalist ranks that their general was killed. Prince Maurice saw and seized the critical moment; after three hours of desperate conflict he gave the word for a general advance, and leading his troops to the charge, obtained a decided victory. The defeat of the Spaniards was complete; their whole artillery, baggage, standards, and ammunition, fell into the hands of the conquerors; and by some it is stated that 6,000 men were killed in the battle. More than half the men engaged were either killed or desperately wounded. Yet the siege of Nieuport was resumed in vain, the conquering army could not carry its defences, and the prince had to retire to Ostend with his troops. The place is now insignificant, bears no memorial of strength or security, and is but the evanescent shade of its former self. So do the glories of war pass away! These towns were my earliest sights on the continental shores of Europe, and thus associated are the events of bygone years.

Ostend stretches along the shore, the beach of which is

low, and not seen to a great distance. The towers only are discernible at sea. When you approach near enough, the entrance to the harbour is found parallel to and under the shelter of a wooden pier, that is extended considerably into the shallow water. The passenger by the steamer, who as a visitor from other lands is watching for novelty, and wishing to catch the first characteristic feature of the scene, and the manners of the people as they rise, will perceive, so soon as he is within sight, on this pier multitudes of the inhabitants of Ostend, whether it be listlessly lounging for pastime and promenade, or that they may recognise friends, gazing with curious search. among the strangers on board the vessel, and crowding toward the point of debarkation, as if waiting and watching were the business of their lives. When I entered between the Digue, or sea-wall, and this wooden pier, there were hundreds strolling backwards and forwards, apparently for recreation. Not far from this place are numerous baths upon the shore, which are in much request, in consequence of the King of Belgium having resorted to Ostend as a wateringplace for himself and his family. During the summer season, many thousands who are not inhabitants of the town loiter here, seeking pleasure, and give the place the aspect of idleness and dissipation. Its empty wharfs and wet-docks, which intersect the town, and its broad quays and lofty houses, leave the idea of spaciousness and the appearance of desertion and decay. But it was once more

celebrated than it has been in recent times.

Ostend was a fortress of great strength, and was deemed almost impregnable, in the sixteenth century. It resisted the skill, bravery, and resources of the whole Spanish force and their most celebrated engineers and tacticians for nearly four years. The attack and the defence were conducted with equal courage, perseverance, and military science; and the protracted operations kept alive for more than three years the anxiety of all the military men of

Europe.

Sir Francis Vere commanded the fortress at its first investment by the Spaniards; but governors, garrisons, and besieging forces, were replaced and renewed with a rapidity which showed the frightful ravages of war. The siege became a school for the young nobility of all Europe, who repaired either to the besiegers or the beleagured garrison to learn the principles and practice of attack and defence. Nothing that the military skill of that period could devise was left untried. The struggle was prolonged from 1601 to 1604, and during this period the people who held possession (the citizens of the United Provinces) produced such impressions elsewhere as secured for them national reputation, and established their claim to consideration. Ostend was a costly sacrifice, a great price paid for Dutch liberty. When the gates were opened at the capitulation, if I remember right, there was hardly a house standing, but all the buildings had been laid in ruins; the whole town was a confused mass; the undaunted garrison had scarcely left sufficient footing on which to prolong their desperate defence. The victors marched in on September 22, 1604, over its crumbled walls and shattered batteries; hardly a vestige of the fort remained; the ditches filled up with the rubbish of ramparts, bastions, and redoubts, left no distinct line of separation beyond the terrible evidences of destruction. It resembled a vast sepulchre rather than a ruined town, a mountain of earth and broken fragments without a single house in which the wretched remnant of the inhabitants could hide themselves. The slaughter in the various sorties, assaults, and bombardments had been enormous; fifty thousand of the Netherlanders having been slain in the siege; and eighty thousand of the Spanish soldiers having fallen before its walls. Squadrons at sea had given a double interest to the land operations, and the naval superiority of the Dutch had enabled them to throw in renewed succours, as well as to increase the destruction of human life ;-it was surely

the carnival of war, and the feast of demons. A fearful celebrity or reputation was that which the Spinolas founded at Ostend. Frederick paid the forfeit of his ambition, being killed in combat with the Dutch galleys; while Ambrose lived to wear the sombre laurels of the conquest, and to receive the eulogies of those who delighted in war. They must both meet all their slain, and stand before Him who is the Judge of the quick and the dead.

Ostend, though still a fortress, and forming a link in the chain of defences which were intended to protect Belgium on the side of France, is now only deserving our notice as the Belgian port for seaward passengers from other countries. As an entrepôt for goods it is sinking into decay, since the sea is gradually abandoning the harbour and leaving only a dreary extent of dunes and flat sands reaching far beyond the tide-mark of the ocean! The town is so reduced, that I think I am warranted in reckoning its population as not exceeding 12,000 people. Outside of the gate leading to Bruges are the Oyster Parks, reservoirs of salt water filled with oysters, fattening for the Paris market, having been conveyed from the English coast. There is nothing in the vicinity remarkable or requiring description, except it be the low lying country all around, which having been reclaimed from the sea, the marine sands have been brought under cultivation and rendered in many places exceedingly fertile. In return for the labour expended a large amount of grain is produced. Visitors have usually to undergo a searching examination at the douane, or custom-house; their luggage is overhauled, and anything new is charged as goods supposed to be introduced as merchandise. I was not on a mercantile speculation, but entered Belgium as a preacher, yet I had carried three copies of a work which in leisure hours I had written, and thought might be useful in some of the continental libraries. My intention was to present them to such parties as I thought might appreciate the gift;