it. All this might the Belgians have, and a part do they enjoy, but not
the best part; no, these people will be brawling and by the ears, and
parties run as high here as at Stoke Pogis or little Pedlington.

These sentiments were elicited by the reading of a paper at the cafe in
the Park, where we sat under the trees for a while and sipped our cool
lemonade. Numbers of statues decorate the place, the very worst I
ever saw. These Cupids must have been erected in the time of the Dutch
dynasty, as I judge from the immense posterior developments. Indeed the
arts of the country are very low. The statues here, and the lions before
the Prince of Orange's palace, would disgrace almost the figurehead of a
ship.

Of course we paid our visit to this little lion of Brussels (the
Prince's palace, I mean). The architecture of the building is admirably
simple and firm; and you remark about it, and all other works here, a
high finish in doors, wood-works, paintings, &c., that one does not see
in France, where the buildings are often rather sketched than completed,
and the artist seems to neglect the limbs, as it were, and extremities
of his figures.

The finish of this little place is exquisite. We went through some dozen
of state-rooms, paddling along over the slippery floors of inlaid woods
in great slippers, without which we must have come to the ground. How
did his Royal Highness the Prince of Orange manage when he lived here,
and her Imperial Highness the Princess, and their excellencies the
chamberlains and the footmen? They must have been on their tails many
times a day, that's certain, and must have cut queer figures.

The ball-room is beautiful--all marble, and yet with a comfortable,