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row of old trees bordering the outer-edge of the causeway; and beneath these, during the fine evenings of summer, there is an immense concourse of people constantly assembled to enjoy the fresh breeze from the river, and admire the dexterity and skill of the helmsmen in directing their vessels through the currents. This street may be about a mile in length, stretching throughout its whole extent along the side of the river; it is also sufficiently broad, and is always kept clean. There is, however, no regular pavement or foot-way to walk upon in wet weather. The side of the street, next to thehouses, is paved with bricks, which are smooth on their surface, and neatly disposed, but on these it is in vain to walk, because the steps leading to the principal door of each house project towards the cause-way, and intersect this side-path every ten or twelve yards. The houses are remarkably clean, as well on the outside as in the interior. The public rooms are for the most part furnished with mirrors, which project from the base of the window, on the outside, towards the street,—by means of which, those who are seated near the windows have a view of every thing which may be going on in, that part of the street to which their back is turned. This, I believe, is customary throughout Holland and the Netherlands.

Most of the other streets in Rotterdam are double, that is, have a canal in the centre, with a row of houses and a causeway on each side,—and the causeway is for the most part on the side next to the canal, bordered with fine trees, which add much to the appearance of the whole, and, particularly during moonlight, produce a beautiful effect. The streets are usually crowded with porters, sailors, and men of business, all in a state of activity.

I was amused by the appearance of the horses, whose shoes are terminated by three long points, on which they rest, and which give the appearance of their being mounted upon pattens. They are used in conveying the smallest barrel or parcel from one house to another, and the clattering of their hoofs produces a singular noise. The particular shape of the shoe is probably intended to prevent their slipping on the streets, which, from the constant conveyance of goods upon sledges or carts without wheels, are in many places very smooth. There are numerous bridges over the canals; in some quarters, however, there are none, and there the communication is kept up by what are called doit-boats, which constantly ply from sunrise to sunset, and convey the passengers across for the reasonable sum of one doit, or the eighth part of a penny. Every thing here is lively and in motion, except the canals, which are sluggish, and in very hot weather must emit a disagreeable odour. It is on this account chiefly that I should prefer the street before mentioned,—as the constantly returning tide, and natural current of the river, prevent any approach to stagnation in the waters of that neighbourhood.

In this city, I believe, there are few works of art, at least I was not so fortunate as to discover any. It is the birthplace of Erasmus, in honour of whose memory the magistrates erected a statue of brass, in an open part of the town. He is represented with a book in his hand, rather larger than life, and clothed in a doctorial gown. No notice of this sort has been taken of Bayle, the sceptic of Rotterdam, who unfortunately had involved himself in some contentions with the church; and from the acts of the consistory of the Walloon congregation of Rotterdam, prefixed to the Historical and Critical Dictionary, it would seem that Le Page, and some other of the Dutch Ecclesiastics, were apt to despise the profane virtues of sincerity and moderation. I was informed that the public library contained the original drawings, or rather sketches, by Rubens, of the Luxembourg gallery.

There are many churches in Rotterdam, some of them handsome, and for all sects in religion Catholics, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, and Jews. The Jews are very numerous. A Jewish girl and a young boy passed under my windows every day, and serenaded for half an hour: The girl's voice was the most mellow and full toned I ever heard, and the boy's was clear and sonorous. Among other songs she sung the Tyrolese song of liberty, in a manner which I never heard before equalled. They avoided, in some degree, the frequent repetition of the same notes and words, which renders the English version rather monotonous, and infused into it a wild spirit, and a pathos which would have