The preconcerted engagement went on according to stipulation. the artillery on both sides of the river kept up an incessant fire; the attacking columns, supported by field pieces and cavalry, rushed cheeringly across the bridge, and the roll of musketry swelled upon the breeze like the continuous rattle of drums in the distance. The heights of the Trocadero were thus obstinately contested for nearly an hour, the firing being incessant, and the movement of the troops exceedingly rapid, when the attacking party began to give way. Their drums and bugles sounded the retreat, and they recrossed the bridge, covered by the fire of the artillery, while regiments as yet unengaged advanced to receive the enemy on either flank. Some good artillery movement followed, the retreating party sweeping the bridge with their field pieces, and then retiring, covering the movement by rapid charges of cavalry as the head-quarters of the enemy's columns marched from the bridge. The same manœuvres were four times repeated—first by the tirailleurs-then those of the attacking but repulsed party retreated, and the two lines of artillery opened their fire. Supported in this manner, the cavalry dashed out; their opponents formed into squares, and repulsed them, still, however, retiring and allowing the sharp shooters and artillery to come again into play. In this engagement of the contending parties was contained the whole of the strategy. I was particularly interested during the engagement in observing the powers, docility, and fine qualities of the horses of the cavalry, lancers, hussars, and cuirassiers. They are far superior to those in the English service, and are much better trained to stand the smoke of powder. In the charge these troops uttered a wild shrieking cry, not like the yell of an American Indian, but to the highest notes of a Frenchman's voice. The lancers in charging kept in ranks like cuirassiers, and made no show of using their weapons, holding the points steadily in the air. The cuirassiers and hussars flourished their swords, but neither made any use of firearms, carbines, or pistols. The sham fight being over, the contending armies united their strength, and defiled in long and magnificent procession before the President of the Republic, and distinguished guests in the tribunes-arms presented and bands playing-marching to their respective barracks, highly delighted with the performances of the day. The generals in command of the troops were General Condit, who occupied the Trocadero, and

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General Guillabert, whose forces were stationed in the Champ de Mars.

On the same evening, the long and splendid fètes of the week were concluded with a magnificent opera, confined exclusively to those who were so fortunate as to procure tickets of invitation. The major portion of the entertainments produced for the occasion were evidently chosen with a view of enabling the foreign visitors to form some idea of the immense musical, scenic, and terpsichorean resources of this celebrated place of amusement. They consisted of the first act of Halevy's opera La Juive, the fourth act of Meyerbeer's Huguenots, and the second act of Auber's Enfant Prodigue. Nothing could exceed the magnificence of decoration, and the scenic effects with which those fragments of the glories of the opera were produced. But the greatest event of the evening was an operatic divertissement composed expressly for the occasion, and entitled Les Nations. In the words of the programme, the piece is in honor of “the Titans, who by their new conquests have brought steel and iron to obedience." The whole affair was gotten up to represent the Exhibition-the Crystal Palace, and the marvels of art, science, and manufacturing skill collected within it, in which ample homage should be rendered to the various nations which have contributed to that magnificent and wonderful collection. The house was crowded to excess, and the coup d'œil was brilliant in the extreme—nearly the entire auditory being in full dress. Most of the distinguished men of France, with the Lord Mayor of London and his suite, were present.

It is impossible to reflect on the brilliant scenes which I have so feebly described without congratulating both the hospitable entertainers and their honored guests, on what each have achieved for their respective countries. From first to last, Paris has worthily maintained her ancient character, as the city of chivalry, and the home of arts. The refined taste and dignified splendor which presided over and illustrated all the proceedings, were in every way worthy to be remembered by all who had the privilege of participation. The Fêtes of 1851 mark an epoch in the intercourse between France and England, from which we sincerely hope there will be dated the establishment of relations of peace and amity, based upon the surest of all foundations, a familiar acquaintance on the part of each with the real character and purposes of the other.

LETTER TWENTY-TWO.

ANTWERP, Belgium.

Preparations for a Continental Tour-Arrival in Brussels-Excursion to the Field of Waterloo-The City of Antwerp-Catholic Antiquities-Fête of the Virgin MaryCharacter of the Country and condition of the Government.

SEVERAL days previous to our departure from the gay scenes of Paris, the note of preparation might have been heard throughout the Hôtel Meurice in the Rue Rivoli, somewhat louder than usual, much to the annoyance of the English, who generally infest the establishment; and more particularly of our excellent hostess, who disliked the idea of parting with old friends, who had graced her table d'hôte so long that she began almost to regard them as members of her family. Couriers and valets de place (who are generally indispensable nuisances) were running to and fro and changing heavy American trunks for light malle poste bages, and collecting for their employers all the little essentials requisite for a European tour; and at the time appointed three parties of Americans, forming a goodly number, set off together by way of the railroad for Brussels, the capital of Belgium, passing en route through a country wholly devoid of interest, being nothing more than a dreary plain with here and there an interminable avenue, small patches of vines of a short low kind, not trained in festoons, but about straight sticks, and a few queer old towns, drawbridged and walled, with odd old towers at the angles like grotesque faces. Ruinous old buildings of all sorts, sometimes an hôtel de ville, sometimes a guard house, sometimes a low dwelling-house covered with lightning rods, and sometimes an old château with a rank garden prolific in dandelion, are the standard objects that meet the eye, repeated over and over again. The monotony, however, of the country was somewhat alleviated by the excellence and comfort of the cars, together with the politeness and strict attention bestowed on the passengers by the conductor and officers of the road. We reached Brussels in about eight hours, including the detention at the custom house, and procured excellent apartments at the Hôtel Bellevue, situated near the King's Palace, and fronting on the Park, the most convenient and central part of the city. Brussels is a miniature Paris, and to one who has visited the French

metropolis and is acquainted with Parisian manners and costumes the similarity will be readily observed. Besides the language, which is the same, (with the exception of the lower orders, who speak only Flemish,) and a certain affectation of French style perceptible in society here, the town of Brussels has its little opera, its cafés like those in the Palais Royal, a palace garden, called the Tuileries, and its Boulevards resembling those of the city of Paris. It has a population of about one hundred and fifty thousand, including the suburbs, and contains many handsome public buildings, distinguished alike for beauty and architectural superiority. The King's Palace, Palace of the Prince of Orange, (the late King of Holland,) Palais de la Nation, built by Maria Theresa for the meetings of the Council of Brabant, Cathedral and Hôtel de Ville, are all beautiful buildings and much admired. In the public squares I noticed several monuments, statues and jets, of some merit. The Place des Martyrs contains a large monument, erected over the grave of more than three hundred Belgians, who were killed in the revolution of 1830. It consists of a marble statue of Liberty on a pedestal with a kneeling genius in each of the four corners. Below and around it runs a sort of subterranean gallery or catacomb, which contains the remains of the slain. And in the Place Royal there stands a bronze equestrian statue of Godfrey of Bouillon that attracts much attention. The most remarkable object, however, is one of the jets, situated near the centre of the city, visited by all strangers, and regarded by the citizens with peculiar reverence. It is called the Manikin, and represents an ebon-looking figure in a stooping posture, spouting a small jet of water high in the air, to the admiration of the crowd that always stands around. Once every year this little figure is taken down, dressed up in court style, and carried round the city in state, followed by a large procession, and then replaced on the pedestal assigned for it.

For the last few years Brussels has increased her business operations far beyond any other period. Every branch of industry appears to be thriving, and more particularly her manufactures, the most remarkable of which is that of lace, celebrated all over the world. Strangers are allowed to visit these establishments and examine the process of lace making, which is exceedingly curious and interesting. "The peculiarity, in addition to the fineness, which distinguishes it,

is, that the patterns are worked separately with most microscopic minuteness, and are afterwards sewed on." Some of these establishments have as many as two thousand females constantly employed, many of whom are required to work in confined dark rooms, into which light is admitted only partially by a small aperture, in order to discipline the eye to spinning the flax to that web-like fineness which constitutes the chief excellence of the fabric.

From Brussels the stranger always visits the field of Waterloo, a beautiful drive of about twelve miles through the Forest of Soigne, described by Byron as the Forest of Ardennes. This region of country has been appropriately termed the "cockpit" of Europe, as it has been for ages the ground upon which the powers of Europe have decided their difficulties. Besides the fields of Waterloo and Quatre Bras, through which the road passes, Wavre, Fleurus, Ligny, and the little village of Ramillies, where Marlborough gained one of his victories over the French and Bavarians, lie within the province of Brabant not far from the roadside. Long before reaching Waterloo we were assailed by guides and relic-venders, who make their living like their fathers before them by repeating over to every new comer the same stereotyped story, and selling buttons and bullets manufactured for the purpose, and buried in the ground a short time in order to give them an old rusty appearance. Each guide has at his tongue's end two stories—one for the English and the allied powers, and the other for the French and Americans-which they relate in the most enthusiastic manner.

By a natural instinct they are able to locate the visitor immediately, and if he be an English subject, look out for the high eulogium upon Wellington and his Spartan band; but if, on the contrary, he be an American citizen, (who are supposed here to favor the French side of the question,) they will speak of the disadvantageous position occupied by Napoleon, and the failure of Grouchy in executing his orders, which resulted in the overthrow of the French army.

The best view of the field is from the top of the Mound of the Belgic Lion, erected to commemorate the spot where the Prince of Orange was wounded. It is a vast heap of earth collected from the field of battle, and thrown up to the height of two hundred feet, beneath which the bones of friends and foes lie indiscrimi