but I did not see it. I had dropped asleep, and so very smooth and easy was the passage, that we were nearly a mile past before I awoke. The country improved as we proceeded, and the green meadows with the ditches, the pollard willow trees, and the herds of cattle, exhibited the characteristics of Holland. We soon got to the little town of Willemstat, which is fortified with out-works, a single wall and ditch. There was a guard of invalids who looked at us, but demanded no passport.

As we drove along the narrow streets, we observed the fronts of the houses in some places stuck with cannon balls, thrown in during a siege by the French under Dumourier. The inhabitants are proud to preserve them as monuments of their glory.

We had now to leave the coach and embark in a boat to cross a wide arm of the sea, called the Holland's Diep. It usually occupies an hour, and should the weather be bad, is very unpleasant. Happily for us, the weather was delightful, the wind blew fair, and half an hour landed

us in the Island of Voorn. At the little village where we stopped waiting for the coach, we had occasion to remark the Dutch neatness and cleanliness, and the long curling twisted ear-rings, with the broad gilt plate under the caps of the women. The roads through the island were miserable indeed. The land which lay below us on each side, bore very weighty crops, but was sadly flooded by the rains, and the farm-houses, which appeared certainly substantial and commodious, were rendered difficult of approach. A stork perched on the top of a house close by the road, near a nest placed for him by the farmer, looked on us with the confidence of habitual security and protection.

We had again to drive on a floating bridge, and be carried across to the Island of Ysselmond. The The country had very rich crops. We saw before us the tower of the Groot Kerk of Rotterdam, and just as it was become dark, we got to the opposite bank of the river. A boat was ready to carry us across, and the proprietor, with great honesty and exactness, had another coach ready to complete his contract, by

carrying us to the office in the middle of the town. For a guilder more the coach took us to the Boom Quay, and put us down at the Wellington Hotel. Being at the end of a fatiguing journey, I conclude with subscribing myself,

My dear Sir,

Yours, &c. &c.

( 129 )

LETTER X.

MY DEAR SIR,

OUR amiable poet Goldsmith, in his Traveller, has a few lines so descriptive of Holland, that I take the liberty here to transcribe them. They are lines which I know you admire.

"To men of other minds my fancy flies,

Embosom❜d in the deep where Holland lies,
Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land;
And sedulous to stop the coming tide,
'Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride;
Onwards methinks, and diligently slow,
The firm connected bulwark seems to go,
Spreads its long arms against the watery roar,
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore;
While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail;
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation rescu'd from his reign.
Thus while around the wave-subjected soil
Impels the native to repeated toil,

K

Industrious habits in each bosom reign,
And industry begets a love of gain.

Hence all the good from opulence that springs,
With all those ills superfluous treasure brings,

Are here display'd. There much lov'd wealth im-
parts

Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts.”

I decline transcribing the remaining lines upon Holland, in which the poet passes severe reflections on the Dutch, and describes them as crafty and mean, and their country as a land of tyrants and a den of slaves. I saw nothing to justify so illiberal an opinion.

The city of Rotterdam has been greatly admired, and it is one which, when visited, will not disappoint the expectations which have been raised. As we proceeded through the streets on our way to the hotel, we felt delighted on viewing the regularity and grandeur of the houses, the splendour of the shops, the neatness of the streets, the crowds on the footpaths, the rows of trees, the broad canals, the forest of masts of large vessels, with the trees, lamps, and houses on the other side of the street beyond the canal. The whole formed a scene which indicated it was no ordinary city, and