(Nóta Bene. This last sentence is to be expunged from the next Oxford edition of Pilgrim's Progress, by Dr. Pusey!)

A finer and more truthful description of this celebrated watering place cannot be written.

At 11 o'clock the rooms are all open and in full blast. Around the tables are crowds of anxious votaries. The managers sit one on either side; and as the wheel turns, and the balls fall into their places, you hear only the words, "trois," "cinq," "deux," "quartorze," "vingt," and with a little rake he draws in the money which has been placed upon the several figures. Sometimes, of course, the managers lose, but this is only a ruse to whet the appetites of the players. Well dressed ladies (?) crowd up to the table and throw down their piece of silver or gold, lose, and turn away. All solemn, not a smile; anxious and almost breathless the crowd wait their chance to play. And still you hear only the dull roll of the ball, and the deep, gruff voice of the "marker," "un-quartre, dix, vingt, deux, trente!" while ever and anon one turns away, pale, haggard, and despairing! he is ruined! I 'could think of nothing but hell, and the arch fiend playing for souls! I hurried out actually frightened!

About 4, P. M., the square begins to fill with promenaders. A Prussian military band seat themselves on an elevated platform, and perform some of the finest overtures of the most celebrated composers.

The multitude increases. All nations, all languages, all

Ecolampadius for the Reformers. Zwingle wished much to come, but was in time warned that it would be unsafe. The majority of the meeting were Catholics, and without publishing any minutes of the debate, declared, with characteristic arrogance, that they had triumphed in the debate. "Let us see the minutes," said the Swiss people; but they were not forth-coming.

All this land is consecrated by deeds of heroic daring, by great struggles of truth against error, by the flames of martyrdom and the blood of martyrs. We long to visit many places which we cannot for want of time. Let no one think of visiting the Old World on a furlough; but take unlimited time, and then you can follow your inclinations, linger over ruins or scenes of classic interest, and indulge your fancy to satiety

As we

the Rhine, and but just appear in the distance.

leave the river, the soil becomes poor, light, and sandy,

much like our pine barrens.

It is not, and cannot be,

We see our old acquaint

cultivated to any great extent. ance, the soldiers, all along the way; at each station, each little village, they are sauntering about nothing to do, and nobody to help them. I imagined they felt ashamed of their position. At least, I am sure I should; as much so as to be marching through the goodly city of Boston, followed by scores of boys and loafers, looking at my feather!

From Baden to Heidelburg the distance is about sixty miles. We reached the city about eleven o'clock, and stopped, intending to take an afternoon train for Frankfort, which is only about fifty miles distant from Heidelburg.

As our object in stopping here was to visit the celebrated castle, we immediately started for it without a guide. We could see it reposing in its sombre dignity on the mountain side, near the city; indeed, overlooking all the region.

Leaving the city on our left a little, we passed through a long avenue of fine shade trees, and striking into a road, which seemed to run in that direction, we soon found ourselves rising in the world; our steps became gradually shorter, and so with our breath.

Finding our road diverged too much from the direction of the ruins, we inquired of a countryman, and he pointed to the left. We struck into another road, and soon we found ourselves under the immense archway leading into