Reflections-Continued. Relics. fictitious in attack and repulse become the real-and the murderous weapons have an intent to kill as well as to display-and war loses all its beauty and attraction to a serious mind! Seen as it was witnessed at Waterloo, and as it has been exhibited on numberless fields of carnage, since as before, war is the most awful scourge that Providence employs for chastising human guilt-the garment of vengeance with which the most High arrays Himself, when He comes forth to punish the inhabitants of earth. To see one of our fellow-beings expire is a painful spectacle — but multiply that number to tens and hundreds of scores—and you have one element which enters into the terribleness of the battle-field. But add to this the fact that they do not die at once, but are either left without assistance and sympathy to linger on through successive hours, maddened with thirst and pain, with wounds exposed to the piercing air and the freezing blood binding the body to the earth-or, if carried from the field, to be crowded into a Hospital with shrieks of death-agony pealing upon the air, or perhaps (as at Waterloo and Sebastopol) the enemy's fire causing the conflagration of their dwellings and themselves—or, if surviving all these, to return home disabled, and doomed to drag out a crippled, helpless life! This, this is war! From the honor of having such spots, memorable though they be on the Historian's page, may God in mercy spare our dear land! Before leaving Waterloo, allow a few remarks relative to its RELICS. After the battle there remained on the field a large quantity of cannon balls, buttons, small brass eagles and broken weapons in which the country people of the neighborhood have been carrying on a famous trafic ever Amusing Incident. since. It may well be supposed that a sale continued so long has left very little to be disposed of at present. To meet the demand those who obtain a subsistence in this way purchase the goods new at a manufactory in shares, and then bury them in different parts of the field, and for a wide space around pieces of imperial brass eagles, thousands of metal buttons, and heaps of iron balls lie buried. This crop is allowed to rest in the earth till summer, for few strangers visit Waterloo during the winter; and when the fine weather arrives, they dig up the relics, to which a sojourn of eight months in a damp soil gives an appearance of age, deceiving the keenest observer. Let a single instance suffice, by way of proof and illustration. A French artist and Prussian tourist were returning from Waterloo to Brussels. The Prussian supported on his knee some object very carefully enveloped in a handkerchief, and which he seemed to value greatly. When he had arrived about mid-way on the road, he inquired of the Frenchman, whether he had brought away with him any souvenir of his pilgrimage to Waterloo. "No," replied the other; and yet I was on the point of making a certain acquisition, but the exorbitant price demanded prevented me; one hundred francs, besides the trouble of carrying off such an article. "What could it have been?" demanded the Prussian, curiously. "You must not feel offended if I tell you,” returned the artist; "it was the skull of a Prussian colonel, a magnificent one! And what rendered it more valuable, it was pierced by three holes, made by the balls of Waterloo. One was in the forehead, the others were through the temples. I should have had no objection to secure this, if I could have afforded it, and have had a lamp made of the Denouement. skull of a Prussian officer killed by the French. And you, sir?" he continued, looking at the packet carried by his fellow-traveler, "pray what luck have you had?" "I," replied the Prussian, with an uneasy movement, and looking greatly confused, "I am astonished at the wonderful resemblance of what has happened to both of us, for I purchased this morning the skull of a French colonel, killed by a Prussian at Waterloo." "You, sir?" "Y-e-s," stammered the Prussian," and I thought of having it made into a cup to drink the health of Blucher at each anniversary of our victory." "And is the skull pierced by three balls?" demanded the Frenchman, his suspicions being awakened. With a look of consternation, the Prussian hastily unrolled the handkerchief and examined the contents. The skull bore the same marks indicated by his traveling companion! It was the identical relic that was French when offered to a Prussian and Prussian when offered to a Frenchman! So much for the field, the battle, and the fiction of Waterloo! CHAPTER XXVII. Trip from London to Belfast, by the way of Birmingham, Manchester, Straits of Menai and Dublin. The free, fair homes of England! Long, long in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be reared, To guard each hallowed wall! And green forever be the groves, When first the child's glad spirit loves Its country and its God!-MRS. HEMANS. LANDING at Dover, after a wearisome night by car and steamer from Brussels-running safely the gauntlet of custom-house officials-and speeding to London, there to meet a welcome from my kind hostess, Mrs. M., and household, occupied the gladsome hours of Saturday, June 24th. Going to my room, the first moments of calm leisure were devoted to the praise of Him who had watched over me with parental anxiety and care, guarding me from threatening danger, affording me opportunities of instruction and pleasure abundant and satisfactory, and again permitting me to tread the soil and breathe the air of free, Protestant England. Tossing my passport into the trunk, "lie there,” was my joyful exclamation; “no more need of you at present; I am in a land where every man is presumed to be innocent until legally convicted of crime-a land where the traveler may move from city to village without the degrading thought that he is watched at each step by some uniformed officer, who has Farewell to my Passport. the authority to ask, "Who are you? Whence from? Why here? How long to stay? and Where going next?— not to answer which and show a passport when demanded, is to be in danger of confinement in a police-house. Henceforth, thou little green-covered book which had thy beginning at Washington, coming from thence with the signature of Secretary Marcy, with thirty others, added in half a score of languages, go to thy place among the 'curiosities of travel." A suggestive little volume is that which in one part of the world is of no more practical utility, (exceptions being very few), than so much blank paper, and in others indispensable to safety of liberty, if not life. What makes the difference but the very fact which gives me joy that I am in Britain—civil liberty! Ten days of much interest and instruction were passed in the "metropolis," during which I witnessed and heard many of the things described in previous chapters. Sabbath morning and evening found me listening to the Rev. Hugh McNeil, of Liverpool. Rare good fortune was it, for he visits London but once a year, and his coming meets a glad welcome from all who find pleasure in theological argument, warm-hearted piety, rendered peculiarly impressive by a manly form and a valiant defence of the Protestant faith against the errors of the Papal heresy. On other occasions, I had heard Rev. Drs. Cumming, Hamilton, Binney, Brock and Noel, with a discourse from one of the successors of the eloquent and good, but erring, Edward Irving. By advice of Rev. Dr. M., I carried with me but few "letters of introduction;" their convenience on a few occasions, being more than offsetted by their disadvantages on many more. "An American Minister would be happy to |