On our return to Scotland, we stopped for a few hours at Wick.  It was late in the afternoon, and the fishermen, in their vessels, were going out of the harbor to their nightly toil.  Vessel after vessel, each manned with four stout rowers, came out of the port—­and after rowing a short distance, raised their sails and steered for the open sea, till all the waters, from the land to the horizon, were full of them.  I counted them, hundreds after hundreds, till I grew tired of the task.  A sail of ten or twelve hours brought us to Aberdeen, with its old cathedral, encumbered by pews and wooden partitions, and its old college, the tower of which is surmounted by a cluster of flying buttresses, formed into the resemblance of a crown.

This letter, you perceive, is dated at Aberdeen.  It was begun there, but I have written portions of it at different times since I left that city, and I beg that you will imagine it to be of the latest date.  It is now long enough, I fear, to tire your readers, and I therefore lay down my pen.

Letter LII.

Europe under the Bayonet.

Paris, September 13, 1849.

Whoever should visit the principal countries of Europe at the present moment, might take them for conquered provinces, held in subjection by their victorious masters, at the point of the sword.  Such was the aspect which France presented when I came to Paris a few weeks since.  The city was then in what is called, by a convenient fiction, a state of siege; soldiers filled the streets, were posted in every public square and at every corner, were seen marching before the churches, the cornices of which bore the inscription of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, keeping their brethren quiet by the bayonet.  I have since made a journey to Bavaria and Switzerland, and on returning I find the siege raised, and these demonstrations of fraternity less formal, but the show and the menace of military force are scarcely less apparent.  Those who maintain that France is not fit for liberty, need not afflict themseves with the idea that there is at present more liberty in France than her people know how to enjoy.

On my journey, I found the cities along the Rhine crowded with soldiers; the sound of the drum was heard among the hills covered with vines; women were trundling loaded wheel-barrows, and carrying panniers like asses, to earn the taxes which are extorted to support the men who stalk about in uniform.  I entered Heidelberg with anticipations of pleasure; they were dashed in a moment; the city was in a state of siege, occupied by Prussian troops which had been sent to take the part of the Grand Duke of Baden against his people.  I could hardly believe that this was the same peaceful and friendly city which I had known in better times.  Every other man in the streets was a soldier; the beautiful walks about the old castle were full of soldiers; in the evening they were reeling through