Not long since an artist of reputation came to me, in Paris, with a view to get a few hints for a map of the Hudson, that had been ordered as an illustration of one of our books.  He was shown all the maps in my possession, some of which were recent and sufficiently minute.  I observed some distrust in his manner, and in the end, he suggested that an old French map of the Canadas, that he had in his pocket, might possibly be more accurate than those which had just been received from America.  The map was produced, and, as might have been expected, was utterly worthless; but an intimation to that effect was not well received, as the artist had not been accustomed to consider the Americans as map-makers.  At length I was compelled to show him Poughkeepsie laid down on his map directly opposite to Albany, and to assure him gravely that I had myself travelled many a time in a north and south direction, from sunrise to sunset, in order to go from one of these places to the other, and that they were eighty miles asunder!

We left Brussels at noon, and reached Louvain at three.  Though not taken so completely by surprise as we were last year, the town-house still gave us great pleasure.  They were at work repairing it, and the fresh stones gave it a mottled look, but, on the whole, it is one of the most extraordinary edifices I know.  It is a sort of condensation of quaintness, that is quite without a rival even in this land of laboured and curious architecture.  The little pavilion of the Prince of Orange, that lies on the road, was still deserted and respected.  I dare say his fishing-rods and fowling-pieces are intact, while his inheritance is shorn of half its glory.

There was a quarantine before entering the Prussian states on account of the cholera, and having understood that we should gain in time after quitting Brussels, beyond which the malady has not yet extended, we went no farther than Thirlemont, where we passed the night.  The place is insignificant, and the great square was chiefly occupied by “awkward squads” of the new levies, who were drilling as fast as they could, in readiness for the Dutch.  The Belgians have reached Protocol No. 67, and they begin to think it is most time now to have something more substantial.  They will find King William of the true “hard-kopping” breed.

The next morning we posted down to Liege in time to take a late breakfast.  The road from Brussels to this place has run through a fertile and well-cultivated country, but the scene changed like magic, as soon as we got a glimpse of the valley of the Meuse.  Liege has beautiful environs, and the town is now the seat of industry.  Coal-pits abound in the immediate vicinity, and iron is wrought in a hundred places.  As we drove through the antique and striking court of the venerable episcopal palace, and emerged on the great square, we found the place alive with people, and our arrival at the Soleil d’Or produced a sensation that seemed inexplicable.  Landlord,