rusted, but stout and vigorous, with corner towers rising out of a moat;
then came a spacious bridge leading into a wide, encouraging-looking
street of sound handsome houses. But, strange! not a single cab,
restaurant, or hotel--nay, hardly a soul to be seen, save a few
rustics in their blouses! It was all dead! I walked on, and at an
abrupt turn emerged on the huge expanse of the _place_, and was
literally dumbfoundered.

Now, of all the sights that I have ever seen, it must be confessed
that this offered the greatest surprise and astonishment. It was
bewildering. On the left spread away, almost a city itself, the vast,
enormous town-hall--a vista of countless arches and windows, its roof
dotted with windows, and so deep, expansive, and capacious that it
alone seemed as though it might have lodged an army. In the centre
rose the enormous square tower--massive--rock-like--launching itself
aloft into Gothic spires and towers. All along the sides ran a
perspective of statues and carvings. This astonishing work would take
some minutes of brisk motion to walk down from end to end. It is
really a wonder of the world, and, in the phrase applied to more
ordinary things, 'seemed to take your breath away.' It is the largest,
longest, most massive, solid, and enduring thing that can be
conceived.

It has been restored with wonderful care and delicacy. By one of the
bizarre arrangements--not uncommon in Flanders--a building of another
kind, half Italian, with a round arched arcade, has been added on at
the corner, and the effect is odd and yet pleasing. Behind rises a
grim crag of a cathedral--solemn and mysterious--adding to the effect
of this imposing combination, a sort of gloomy shadow overhanging all.
The church, on entering, is found overpowering and original of its