of Milbank, near Vauxhall-bridge; and the situation has much the same character.  The river, however, is grander, as I should judge it to be twice the width of the Thames at London-bridge, and it flows with great rapidity.  It was a charming evening, and we saw the sun set in all his glory down the Scheldt, in the bosom of which were reflected the endless tints of the sky, whose golden brilliancy was beautifully relieved by the intervention of some cottages near us, and a pretty village, with its church-spire a little further off.  On one side was the flat cultivated country of Flanders, and looking up the river, we beheld the shipping and the whole city:  all the churches and towers raised their varied forms, but still only to do homage, as it were, to the great pile which outstripped them, and which was lit up by the radiance of the departed sun.  Model of splendour! “from morn ’till dewy eve” how must thy elegant form be engraven on the hearts of the natives of the city thou overlookest, exciting emotions of home, like the craggy rock of the Highlanders, when they are absent in distant lands! and how must the youth, whom the love of art carries to study the treasures of Venice and Rome, when returning to shed a lustre upon his natal place—­of being one day named with Matsys and Rubens, and the other splendid painters by whom it has been adorned—­how must the first glance that he catches of thy hallowed height make his heart throb with endearing thoughts of the friends he left under thy shade, and absorb for the moment all feelings of ambition in the recollection of the boyish days passed within thy ken—­but now, alas, departed for ever!  May the fires of heaven, and the tremblings of earth, never injure thy venerable beauty; but may thousands, and tens of thousands, in time to come, as in time past, gaze upon thee—­as I, an obscure, nameless stranger, have done—­with thoughts too deep for words!

During the evening I have alluded to we were accompanied by the accomplished Miss ——­, whose talents must be well known to many of our own artists who have visited Antwerp; and this being her native place, her conversation gave us those kindly associations of home, without which no scenes, however beautiful or however uncommon, can penetrate the inmost recesses of the soul.

W.G.

Our Correspondent, in a few introductory lines, modestly, though somewhat unnecessarily, apologizes for the enthusiasm of the reflective portion of the previous sketch.  He will perceive that we have ventured upon a few slight alterations.  He concludes his note to us with an assurance that “the feelings were sincere, however trifling the thoughts, or inadequate the expression.”  Of his sincerity we have no doubt; and where the feelings of a writer are so honourable to his heart as are many in this paper, we are not fastidious enough to quarrel with inadvertencies of the head.  All have felt the overpowering effect produced by the contemplation of the sublimities of art, but comparatively few are aware of the difficulty of embodying these first impressions in descriptive detail.—­ED.