ing upon the complexion of the ladies of this country, they may be said to be generally without colour, and rather sallow, effects which strangers scruple not to attribute to much confinement, and to the constant use of these hot pans. My own opinion, however, is, that the sharp countenance of the French, and the round visage of the Dutch, is more intimately connected with the circumstances of climate and a certain nationality of character, than with any adventitious treatment of the body.

In the afternoon the party attended the Scotch church, where the Reverend Mr Anderson and the Reverend Mr M'Phail are the pastors. It happened to be Mr M‘Phail who preached, a gentleman who had the hardihood to raise up his voice against the arbitrary decisions of Bonaparte, and in those troublesome times was like to have been taken through hands; he nevertheless persisted in that line of conduct which he considered to be his duty. This morning the Monday, weather being extreme4th August. ly fine, some of the party made an excursion before breakfast to Schidam, which is only about three or four miles from Rotterdam. The road between these towns is wholly upon the top of the dike for the defence of this part of the country against the floods and speat waters of the Meuse. Schidam is the principal town in Holland for the distillation of Geneva; it is said to contain 12,000 inhabitants, and had about 270 distilleries before the war, which are now reduced to about 80, and even this limited number is understood to be rather in a languishing way, owing to a general stagnation of trade. But when we speak of so great a number of distilleries, you are not to think of comparing them with the great works of this kind in Scotland, some of which are said to pay upwards of L. 9000 per week of duty to government, doing, perhaps, more business than the whole distilleries of Schidam put together. This town is only interesting on account of its distilleries, and the convenient manner in which the canals ramify through it in every direction. There seems here to be a great proportion of shops for the sale of old china and articles of that description, which are exposed

at prices so very reasonable, that they would be considered as next to nothing in England. Real china jars, for example, might have been purchased for half a guinea which measured about two feet in height, and other articles in proportion.

The process of making gin from rye and barley is nearly similar to that of making whisky from the latter. The stills appear to be from 50 or 80 gallons, and the whole process is conducted in the most systematic and cleanly manner. The worts, in particular, are conveyed from the stillhouse by wooden troughs into pits, from which they are again pumped into boats, and carried in hulk to the fields on the banks of the canals, where they are run off into tanks for the use of cattle. Although our visit to Schidam was undertaken before breakfast, it was still thought necessary to taste the spirit in its several stages. It was particularly nauseous and disagreeable before undergoing the second process of distillation with the juniper berry. This indispensable ingredient in the process of making gin, together with the coal for fuel, is brought chiefly from Germany by the Rhine. In the upper apartments of these establishments we saw many sacks of juniper berries, which are here shown as the hop packets are shown at Meux's in London. In the course of this visit to Schidam we saw at one of the distilleries an old and much rusted ship's anchor, 4 feet 6 inches in length, with a square shank, and otherwise peculiar in its construction. The account given of this anchor, together with the necessity of dikes for the defence of Holland, afford some interesting views of the natural history of this territory, to which I shall endeavour, in a future letter, briefly to allude. In digging under ground for the foundation of one of the houses connected with the distillery, this anchor was found at the depth of 10 or 12 feet under ground, a proof that, at one time, this spot, in the central part of the town, had been the entrance to the Meuse, or had at least formed one of its mouths: at any rate, it had been a place for the anchorage of ships, though now about 3 miles from the banks of the Meuse, and at least 10 miles from the nearest part of the sea-coast. The dikes of Holland afford most wonderful examples of the

4.

art and industry of the Dutch nation; they are literally great mounds of earth and clay, regularly formed after the best practice of the engineer; sometimes they are faced or defended to seaward, with rice work, wattled with small branches of osiers; in other and more exposed situations they are armed or fenced with stone, brick, straw, and even in some places the importance of these banks is so essential to the safety and preservation of the country, that we find them covered at certain places with canvass or sail-cloth. The dike which we travelled upon this morning is for defending Rotterdam and the adjoining country from the inundations of the Meuse, which is frequently overcharged with land floods on the one hand, and by the high tides and storms of the ocean on the other. Before, however, enlarging upon this subject, I shall return to Rotterdam, and make a few additional remarks connected with that great commercial city.

Rotterdam takes its name from the stream called the Rotter, on which it is built. It is the rival city of Amsterdam, and, in the opinion of some, surpasses it in every thing excepting in population, and perhaps the extent of its merchandise. Rotterdam is said to contain about 55,000 inhabitants. It commands a great part of the trade of France and Germany by the Meuse; and, forming a much more immediate and ready communication with the sea than Ainsterdam, seems in every respect better calculated to become the emporium of commercial intercourse for Holland than its capital.

Upon returning from Schidam, the party paid another visit to the church of St Lawrence, and ascended to the top of the steeple, an excursion which had hitherto been prevented by our being repeatedly disappointed in meeting with the sexton, whose other avocations being more profitable, he was, for our purpose, very difficult of access. The sign-board over his door contained the following intimation: "Heren maket doden mens Kestein," or, in English, "Coffins made here." A long stair, said to be nearly 200 feet in height, was now to be mounted, in a country where a doyt, or the 8th part of a penny, is in current circulation, and where a doubleque, or twopence, is considered a sufficient remuneration

for the ordinary services of a porter. No wonder than the old man should prefer working at doden mens kestein. But he informed the party, that if he had known that we were English, he would have been much more pointed in his attendance. On arriving at the top of the steeple, we found that our labours were amply repaid for all our trouble, and as the guide was very civil, and withal well informed as to the localities, we had great pleasure in the view of an extensive district of South Holland, including the range of islands to the westward of Helvoetsluys, the track of the Meuse, Williamstadt, Dort, Gouda, Utrecht, Leyden, Hague, Schidam, Flaarden, &c. &c. with many curious and remarkable intersections of land and water, beyond all parallel in England. The city of Rotterdam is seen ramifying below the spectator in streets, canals, trees, and shipping, with numerous drawbridges, and a crowded population passing to and fro in every direc tion. After enjoying this interesting scene for a time, we descended to one of our friends, who, having seen the view before, was left studying his pocket dictionary for a scold in Dutch, for the sexton's irregular attendance as a cicerone; this rebuke, so prepared, was at the same time delivered in such a strain of good humour, that the poor sexton was evidently at a loss what to make of our friend, and joined the party in heartily laughing at the joke. Our attention, however, was very suddenly turned to a different subject; a beadle, clothed in a black gown, having at the moment walked across the church, wholly unattended, carrying the coffin of an infant under his arm, which appeared to be so small, that it had probably been the remains of a still-born child. The coffin was of oak, of the natural colour of the timber. The man laid it upon the ground, and lifting part of the pavement of the church, he turned up a little of the sand below, and deposited his charge with the least possible ceremony.

In returning to the hotel, we passed the house where the eminent Erasmus was born. Over the door is a short inscription in Latin, stating that Erasmus, who adorned the world with science and virtue, was born there in the year 1467. The Dutch are proud of his name, and in honour of his me

vate interests and gratifications. They miss some of the snug conveniences and petty comforts which belong to an old, highly finished, and over-populous state of society, where the ranks of useful labour are crowded, and many make a painful and servile subsistence, by studying the very caprices of appetite and self indulgence. These minor comforts, however, are all important in the estimation of narrow minds; and they either do not perceive, or will not acknowledge, that they are more than counterbalanced among us, by great and generally diffused blessings.

Or, perhaps, they have been disappointed in some unreasonable expectation of sudden gain. They may have pictured America to themselves an El Dorado, where gold and silver abounded, and the natives were lacking in sagacity. Where they were to become strangely and suddenly rich, in some unforeseen, but easy manner. The same weakness of mind that indulges absurd expectations, produces petulance in disappointment. They become embittered against the country on finding that there, as every where else, a man must sow before he can reap; that he must win wealth by industry and talent; and must compete with the common difficulties of nature, and the shrewdness of an intelligent and enterprising people.

Or, perhaps, through mistake, or ill-directed hospitality, or the prompt disposition to cheer and countenance the stranger, prevalent among my countrymen, they may have been treated with unwonted respect in America; and, accustomed all their lives to consider themselves many strata below the surface of society, and brought up in a servile feeling of inferiority, they become arrogant on the common boon of civility; they attribute to the lowliness of others their own elevation; and underrate a society where there are no artificial distinctions, and where, by any chance, such individuals as themselves can rise to consequence.

One would suppose, however, that information coming from such sources, on a subject where the truth is so desirable, would be received with caution by the censors of the press. That the motives of these men, their veracity, their opportunities of inquiry and observation, and their capacities

for judging correctly, would be rigorously scrutinized, before their evidence was admitted, in such sweeping extent, against a kindred nation. The very reverse, however, is the case, and it furnishes a striking instance of human inconsistency. Nothing can surpass the vigilance with which English critics will test the credibility of the traveller who publishes an account of some distant, and comparatively unimportant, country. How warily will they compare the measurements of a pyramid, or the descriptions of a ruin, and how sternly will they censure any discrepancy in these contributions of merely curious knowledge; while they will receive, with eagerness and unhesitating faith, the gross misrepresentations of coarse and obscure writers, concerning a country with which their own is placed in the most important and delicate relations. Nay, what is worse, they will make these apocryphal volumes text books, on which to enlarge, with a zeal and an ability worthy of a more generous cause.

I shall not, however, dwell on this irksome and hackneyed topic; nor should I have adverted to it, but for the undue interest apparently taken in it by my countrymen, and certain injurious effects which I apprehend it might produce upon the national feeling. We attach too much consequence to these attacks. They cannot do us any essential injury. The tissue of misrepresentations attempted to be woven round us, are like cobwebs wove round the limbs of an infant giant. Our country continually outgrows them. One falsehood after another falls off of itself. We have but to live on, and every day we live a whole volume of refutation. All the writers of England, united, cannot conceal our rapidly-growing importance and matchless prosperity. They cannot conceal that these are owing, not merely to physical and local, but to moral causes. To the political liberty, the general diffusion of knowledge, the prevalence of sound, moral, and religious principles, that give force and sustained energy to the character of a people; and which, in fact, have been the acknowledged and wonderful supporters of their own national power and glory.

But why are we so exquisitely alive to the aspersions of England? Why

do we suffer ourselves to be so affect ed by the contumely she has endeavoured to cast upon us? It is not in the opinion of England alone that honour lives, and reputation has its being. The world at large is the arbiter of a nation's fame: with its thousand eyes it witnesses a nation's deeds, and from their collective testimony is national glory or disgrace established.

For ourselves, therefore, it is comparatively of but little importance whether England do us justice or not; it is, perhaps, of far more importance to herself. She is instilling anger and resentment into the bosom of a youthful nation, to grow with its growth, and strengthen with its strength. If in America, as some of her writers are labouring to convince her, she is hereafter to find an invidious rival, and a gigantic foe, she may thank those very writers for having provoked that rivalship, and irritated that hostility. Every one knows the all-pervading influence of literature at the present day, and how completely the opinions and passions of mankind are under its control. The mere contests of the sword are temporary; their wounds are but in the flesh, and it is the pride of the generous to forgive and forget them; but the slanders of the pen pierce to the heart; they rankle most sorely and permanently in the noblest spirits; they dwell ever present in the mind, and make it morbidly sensitive to the most trifling collision. It is not so much any one overt act that produces hostilities between two nations; there exists, most commonly, a previous jealousy and ill-will, a predisposition to take offence. Trace these to their cause, and how often will they be found to originate in the mischievous effusions of writers, who, secure in their closets, and for ignominious bread, concoct and circulate the venom that is to inflame the generous and the brave.

I am not laying too much stress upon this point; for it applies most emphatically to our particular case. Over no nation does the press hold a more absolute control than over the people of America; for the universal education of the poorest classes makes every individual a reader. There is nothing published in England on the subject of our country, that does not circulate through every part of it.

There is not a calumny dropt from an English pen, nor an unworthy sarcasm uttered by an English statesman, that does not go to blight good will, and add to the mass of latent resentment. Possessing, then, as England does, the fountain head from whence the literature of the language flows, how completely is it in her power, and how truly is it her duty, to make it the medium of amiable and magnanimous feeling-a stream where the two nations might meet together, and drink in peace and kindness. Should she, however, persist in turning it to waters of bitterness, the time may come when she may repent her folly. The present friendship of America may be of but little moment to her; but the future destinies of that country do not admit of a doubt: over those of England there lower some shadows of uncertainty. Should, then, a day of gloom arrive; should those reverses overtake her, from which the proudest empires have not been exempt, she may look back with regret at her infatuation, in repulsing from her side a nation she might have grappled to her bosom, and thus destroying her only chance for real friendship beyond the boundaries of her own dominions.

There is a general impression in England, that the people of the United States are inimical to the parent country.

It is one of the errors that has been diligently propagated by designing writers. There is, doubtless, considerable political hostility, and a general soreness at the illiberality of the English press; but collectively speaking, the prepossessions of the people are strongly in favour of England. Indeed, at one time they amounted, in many parts of the union, to a degree of bigotry that was absurd. The bare name of Englishman was a passport to the confidence and hospitality of every family, and too often gave a transient currency to the worthless and the ungrateful. Throughout the country there was something of enthusiasm connected with the idea of England. We looked to it with a hallowed feeling of tenderness and veneration, as the land of our forefathers-the august repository of the monuments and antiquities of our race the birth-place and mausoleum of the sages and heroes of our paternal history. After our own country,