In one room there were about twenty females, with large cushions on their knees, over which they were bending. Upon these were multitudes of small needles, to which they fastened the thread, as they wove it into leaves or flowers. It is a most difficult and tedious labor, excessively painful from the constrained attitude the women are compelled to maintain. Poor creatures, how we pitied them! They all had an unhealthy, pallid appearance. In the show-room we saw some wonders of delicate workmanship. One flounce alone was worth one thousand dollars, and a bridal veil was valued at fifteen hundred. As I looked at the beautiful tracery upon the lace, like the spider's web when the morning dew has left its embroidery of minute pearls, I thought of the weary fingers and the aching eyes which had toiled

over it.

From the manufactory we drove to the "Allée Verte," a most delightful road, very wide, with large trees overhanging it with their spreading branches. It runs just along the bank of the canal which leads to Mecklin. This is the "Hyde Park" or "Bois de Boulogne" of Brussels, where all the fashion of the Belgian capital take their evening drives. This charming "Allée Verte" was spared by Marshal Saxe when he besieged the city in 1746. The women of Brussels all joined in supplications that it might not be destroyed, and Saxe most gallantly granted their request. Rarely have I spent two more enchanting hours than during our pleasant drive. As we were returning we passed the Botanic Gardens. They are extensive and tastefully arranged. At night the Park was illuminated for some fête, and a merry crowd filled it until a late hour.

August 3d.-At dawn we were up and away for Cologne. As we drove to the station we saw the house where the Duchess of Richmond gave her grand ball on the eve of the

THE BIRTH-PLACE OF CHARLEMAGNE.

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Battle of Waterloo. Wellington and many of his officers were present. What a contrast was the succeeding night of carnage and death!

A few miles from Brussels we passed the Palace of Lacken. The gardens and parks are of vast extent. In the cemetery of Laeken, Madame Malibran is buried. Her body was brought from Manchester. There is on the tomb, or near it, a marble statue of her.

The first important town near which the railway passed after leaving Brussels was Malines, or Mecklin. It has many historical associations, as there Charles the Bold founded the Imperial Chamber in 1473. But a more touch ing interest lingers about it from Bulwer's "Story of the Heart." Malines was the home of the faithful Lucille.

At Fesche we were drawn up by a stationary engine to the summit of a hill, whence we had a most exquisite view. The valley of the Mense is exceedingly picturesque, and the city of Liege, with its cupolas, domes, and towers, presents a fine picture of commerce and prosperity. In Liege, Walter Scott lays the scenes of Quentin Durward. It appears to be a great manufacturing town.

From thence we passed many flourishing villages, and stopped at Aix-la-Chapelle, in Prussia, the birth-place of Charlemagne, and also containing his tomb. It is celebrated for its springs, and crowds flock thither each year. The Cathedral has many precious relics, which are exhibited only once in seven years, when pilgrims by thousands assemble to look upon them. Among the most sacred are a lock of the Virgin's hair, and a nail from the true cross.

The railway continues through a fertile country, passing many tunnels cut through the hills. About five we reached Cologne, or Köln, a fortified city on the Rhine. We drove through the narrow streets to the Hotel Disch, a splendid

hotel. We did not tarry long within it, however, but started out to see the Dom Kirche, or Cathedral, which was commenced in 1248, and is not yet completed. It was intended to be the grandest of churches. The plan is admirable and majestic, but the ruined state it now presents is quite mournful. The stained glass windows are beautiful. There are several monuments and paintings; but the glory of all is the choir, of immense height, with pillars and arches so far above one, they seem like the branches of great trees interlaced. The sacristan showed us the shrine of the "Three Kings of Cologne," or the Magi, who presented the offerings to the infant Saviour. Their skulls are preserved in cases, and each has the name inscribed upon it. The Emperor Frederick Barbarossa gave them to Cologne, and this Cathedral was built to contain them.

The Church of "St. Ursula and of the Eleven Thousand Virgins," who, returning from a pilgrimage to Rome to their native Brittany, were murdered at Cologne by the Huns, is a curious old place, filled with bones. They meet the eye in all directions. There are many other churches with valuable paintings and relics.

Cologne is of great antiquity. It was built upon the site of the Roman camp of " Marcus Agrippa." The mother of Nero was born there in the tent of her father Germanicus. When she became Empress she sent a colony thither, who called the city "Colonia Agrippina." Between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries Cologne was styled the "Rome of the North." Caxton lived there in 1470, and learned the art of printing. The "Cologne Water" of "Jean Farina" is known to the whole world; there are, at least, forty houses all claiming to be the "Original Manufactory." The Mumm Champagne is also made here, and just vis-à-vis to my window is

an immense building containing thousands and thousands of bottles.

The river is crossed here by a bridge of boats, as no other can resist the rapidity of the current.

VOL. I.-6*

CHAPTER XVII.

August 4th. Ar six we were on board the little steamer König; the river-the Rhine-was broad, swift, and deep; thus we slowly ascended the "legendary stream." It was not until the "Siebengebirge" or Seven Mountains rose to view, that the glories of the Rhine were revealed in all their matchless grandeur. No description I have ever read approaches the reality, save the verses of the most impassioned of poets. How wonderfully, how truthfully, has Byron pictured in glowing words the beauty of scenery which meets the eye on every side. First:

"The castled crag of Drachenfels

Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine.

And hills all rich with blossomed trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scattered cities crowning these,

Whose far white walls along them shine."

Then comes the ruined tower of Rolandseck, crowning the summit of a lofty mountain; just below is the Island of Nonnenwarth, with its convent half hidden amid the trees. Faithful love has consecrated these ruins, and through long