Amsterdam, like Rotterdam, has but few attractions for a stranger aside from the peculiarities mentioned. The streets all present an active appearance, and the spirit of enterprise seems to pervade all classes. During our stay here we have made one or two interesting excursions, which all travellers desirous to learn something of country life and village customs in Holland should see. Our first was to the village of Haerlem, on Sabbath morning, with the view of seeing a lake by the same name, which is now being drained by three large engines, and to attend divine service in the great church of St. Baron, which contains the celebrated organ of Christian Miller, which has become one of the lions of the continent, although surpassed of late years in size and power. The lake of Haerlem, formed by the union of four small lakes, was eleven leagues in circumference, and contained thirteen feet of water, covering an area of 45,230 acres. The States General of Holland sanctioned a plan for converting the bed of the lake into arable and pasture land. Operations were accordingly commenced in 1840, by constructing at water-tight double rampart or dyke and ring canal round the lake, into which the water is pumped up, to be discharged through sluices into the sea. Three enormous pumping engines were erected, each of which is capable of discharging fifty-three tons per stroke, which by constant operation have almost succeeded in converting an inland sea into meadows and fruitful fields.

Having viewed the workings of these mighty engines, and seen the dry land yielding fruit abundantly where the waters of the sea were once gathered together, we repaired to the great church of St. Baron, and enjoyed the excellent music of its organ, which claims supremacy over all other instruments of the kind for its general beauty and sweetness of tone. While standing in the nave of the church listening in silent admiration to its dulcet strains, expecting to retire as soon as it was over, the doors were closed by an officer, and all ingress and egress strictly prohibited until the sermon had concluded. Finding ourselves in a dilemma, we determined to make the best of it, and quietly took a seat and listened for two mortal hours to a sermon that was all Dutch to us. The speaker was very vehement in his gestures, and his voice was like the sound of many waters, producing a wonderful influence upon his hearers, who sat like mummies with their heads covered with queer-looking hats,

(which they removed only during prayer,) and arms folded with all the resignation of a saint.

The following day we made an excursion to the far-famed village of Brock, celebrated for its beauty and cleanliness. It has about one thousand inhabitants, composed principally of men who have amassed fortunes and retired from business. There is neither horse nor carriage road through the place; so we were obliged to leave our conveyance at a small inn on its outskirts, and to walk through it. "A notice on a sign-board gives warning to strangers that they are not to smoke without a stopper on their pipe, nor to ride through the village, but must dismount and lead their horse at a foot pace." The narrow lanes or foot paths which intersect it are paved with little stones and shells set in patterns, in imitation of mosaic. The houses are mostly of wood, very curiously constructed, and scrupulously painted two or three times during the year with white and green. Many of them have gardens attached, which present the most perfect pictures of prettiness, with their meandering walks and fantastically cut parterres, filled with flowers of gaudiest hue. Each garden is provided with a fish pond, around which are arranged beautiful summer houses, where the family and their guests usually resort in the afternoons to smoke their pipes and sip their beer, coffee or tea. Notwithstanding Brock has been much admired and praised by visitors, it is an exceedingly dull-looking village to one fresh from the busy streets of Amsterdam, which is attributed to the custom of always keeping the front door and windows closed, save for the entrance of the bridal pair after marriage, and for the exit of a corpse for burial. On our return to the city we stopped at a dairy farm by the roadside, where we witnessed the various processes of making the little round cheeses, known all over the world as Dutch cheeses, an article of great traffic, and source of considerable wealth to the province of North Holland. On entering the house we were provided by a young lady with wooden shoes or sabots, in order that we might not carry into their cleanly habitation any mud from our boots. At first we objected to putting them on, but being informed by our guide that it was a custom of the country, we readily complied with her request, and were introduced to the manager of the establishment, who was particularly polite in explaining every thing. The house was in the form of a square-three sides being

appropriated for a cow stable in winter, and the other side, including the centre, was set apart for the family. The cows were all grazing on the meadows; but from what I could see I will venture to say that they are much better lodged and cared for than nine tenths of the poor people of Great Britain. The pavement of this house was of Dutch tiles, the walls of deal boards, which were as smooth and as clean as a dining table in a Tennessee log cabin. From one end of the stable to the other runs a gutter, which keeps the stalls perfectly dry and comfortable, while every convenience that could be thought of for such an establishment was here made use of.

The industry, perseverance, cleanliness and hospitality of the Dutch people is universally known and appreciated. Evidences of these good qualities are to be seen in every part of Holland. Here no poverty or beggary meets the stranger's eye, but on the contrary all classes seem to prosper, while the wheels of government move quietly along, giving satisfaction to all, and insuring peace and harmony to a people naturally fond of repose.

LETTER TWENTY-FOUR.

HEIDELBERG, Germany.

Scenery on the Rhine from its Delta to Mayence-Steamboats, Rafts, and Bridges on the Rhine-Cologne-The Seven Mountains-Fortifications at Coblentz-Frankfort on the Main-The Castle of Heidelberg, etc.

"On the banks of the majestic Rhine,
There Harold gazes on a work divine,

A blending of all beauties; streams and dells,

Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine,

And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells,

From gray but leafy walls, where ruin greenly dwells.'

THE beauties of "Old Father Rhine" have been for ages past a subject upon which the pens of the poet, the novelist, and the historian have alike exhausted their highest meed of praise. Intimately associated with the historical recollections of Roman conquests, and the feats of chivalric exploit in the feudal periods of the wars and negotiations of modern times of the coronation of kings and the

welfare of the neighboring nations, it merits a reputation and possesses an interest that no other stream that flows on earth can lay claim to. The course of "the great inland sea" of our own country is much longer, and its volume much greater; the banks of the beautiful Ohio present a greater variety of scenery, and the natural beauties of the Hudson are infinitely superior, wanting only a few antiquated castles and vine-clad terraces to complete the picture, and render them perfect in panorama.

From Arnheim, where we took the steamer, as high up as a little village called Bonn, twenty miles above Cologne, there is nothing to admire in the scenery of the river. The banks are low and uninteresting, as in Holland, and the villages which lie on them do not require any notice. At Bonn, however, the glories of the Rhine commence with a beautiful cluster of mountains, called the Seibengelirge, and continues to present scenes of equal beauty and variety as far up as the strongly fortified town of Mayence; here the scenery changes again, and offers nothing pleasing to the eye until you reach its source as it flows down from the snow-capped peaks of the distant Alps.

The steamboats on the Rhine, like all that I have yet seen in Europe, have few conveniences, and little or no comfort, except in fair weather, when the passengers abandon the close and heated cabins, and sit out on the deck, which is protected from the rays. of the sun by a light awning arranged on pulleys. They are divided into three cabins: 1. The pavilion, usually occupied by English and Americans; 2. The cabin for the continental people; 3. The after cabin for servants and inferior persons. Meals are prepared on board at prices fixed by a printed tariff regulated by the government, and Rhenish wines furnished in abundance at a mere song. Three different companies own these steamers, and convey annually up and down one million of passengers, who go as far as they choose on one boat, make little excursions at the various points of interest, and pursue their journey on the next steamer. In ascending the Rhine I was reminded frequently of life on the Mississippi, in seeing the vast floating islands of timber which the traveller constantly meets with on that river. The rafts on the Rhine are very large, and have the appearance of a floating village, composed of eight or ten little wooden huts on a platform of oak or deal timber. The rowers and

workmen sometimes amount to four or five hundred, superintended by pilots and a proprietor, whose habitation is superior in size and comfort to the rest. The boatmen are often accompanied by their wives and families, who carry on spinning, knitting, tailoring, dressmaking, and all other domestic pursuits. The consumption of provisions on the voyage is almost incredible, and the expenses are so great that a large capital is necessary to construct and float a raft. The bridges on the Rhine are constructed of boats lashed together and made fast by means of anchors, over which is placed a substantial floor twenty or thirty feet in width, and elevated about four feet from the surface of the water. Rafts and boats are let through by means of a kind of lock in the bridge; which is nothing more than the detachment of four or five boats by the action of the current, forming a space sufficiently wide for the largest craft, and brought back to their proper position by machinery. The original cost of such bridges is much less than they would have to pay for a suspension; but in the end the expense of repairing the boats would counterbalance the difference, and make the new invention far preferable.

Americans usually expect to find beautiful and agreeable cities on the Rhine-a conclusion formed from reading the exaggerated descriptions of letter writers, and listening to the accounts of tourists whose enthusiasm leads them into extremes. There is in truth no city or village from its mouth to its source that is any ways attractive as a place of residence, or even agreeable for a stranger to pass a fortnight. Cologne, renowned all over the world for the manufacture of Eau de Cologne, is the largest and most interesting place on thẻ river; interesting not on account of its beauty or cleanliness, for it can boast of neither, but for its historical associations and curious churches. Traces of the possession of this city by the Romans remain not only in various fragments of walls, originally part of the outer defences, though not far within the city, and in the numerous altars, inscriptions, coins, etc., which come to light nearly every day; but even in the features of character of its inhabitants, who' are said to betray their hereditary blood, and to differ in many respects from their German neighbors on the opposite side of the Rhine. The existing outer walls of Cologne are considered very superior, and present one of the most perfect examples of fortifications of the middle ages, with picturesque flanking towers and gate-houses.