AN ENGLISH ACTOR.

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a lively French Countess, who did not understand a syllable of the language, said to me-" Il rit avec tant de bon cœur qu'il me fait rire aussi malgré moi.”—The warmest admirer could not have paid him happier compliment.

LETTER XXVII.

And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scattered cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine.

BYRON.

CROSSING the bridge of boats at Manheim into modern Bavaria, we proceeded across the fertile flat towards Worms. A few Bavarian troops, in their handsome sky-blue uniforms, quartered in the little fortified tête du pont on the opposite side, reminded one of the new masters of this ci-devant portion of the French Empire. The straggling hamlets along the road side, with their little white cabins, were as different as possible from the dirty walled towns on the other side the river, in the intervals between which you never see a house. Some of the peasants, who, instead of the light waggons, were driving carts with one enormous ox in the shafts, appeared to speak a more

Frenchified German. If you asked the way, they replied—“ Es geht immer toujours fort;" and for walking, they use promeniren, instead of the true German spatzieren. Many of them speak a bad French; and we met with one or two raw young peasants, with a half-military look, who had served in the French army, and acquired just enough of the language, and that vivacity it imparts to appear fairly denationalized, and resemble neither Frenchmen nor Germans.

Frankenthal was the only town before Worms. It is a bustling lively place, communicating by a canal with the Rhine, and presenting some traces of the active trading industry which a rich colony of French and Dutch refugees formerly gave to it. One of its chief manufactories was converted by the French government into a great magazine of mendicity for the department of Mont Tonnerre-a curious illustration of the descent from commercial opulence to beggary, which an exclusively warlike system will often produce.

It was quite dark when we reached Worms. Arriving late, and without equi

page, the fat landlord of the inn replied to our enquiry for beds with a scrutinising look and a demand for a passport—just as the host of an English public-house would make a similar demand of a travelling tar with one arm, begging his way to Portsmouth. Our passports, for which we had rarely had occasion in Germany, were unlukily sent forward with our trunks; and the statement of this fact was followed up by a brisk refusal of all accommodation from the dainty host of the White Horse. I knew the relenting character of a German landlord's dignity too well to be dismayed; and as Worms was now a garrison town of the Grand Duke of Hesse, I mentioned the names of several dignitaries of the Court and army, with whom I had the honor of intimacy, and whom I now found invaluable friends. The application took instantaneous effect on the haughty proprietor of the White Horse; though, not to let himself down too abruptly from his stately elevation, he at first only condescended to reply rather gruffly-" Dann konnen sie platz nehmen," "then you may take a place:" but his subsequent attentions and

polite preventings of our wishes at supper. where he assigned us the place of honor, proved that our titled acquaintances had happily removed all his primâ facie prejudices against pedestrians without passports. During supper, which took place in the dirty dark saloon, (for every thing is dirty and dark at Worms,) a fat stately dame played us some languishing airs on a twanging harp, the melody of which seemed entirely lost on the Hessian officers, who were smoaking, drinking beer, and playing at drafts at a table just by. A hardy chasseur, in his green hunting dress, who came in late, was devouring a savoury German salad, a not very delicate, but by no means unpalatable olio of potatoes, fish, anchovies, lettuce, &c.; and the soft strains of the lady were soon driven to give place to the mirth and loud narrations of these noisy guests.

Worms, which from the days of the old Frankish Kings who had a palace there, to those of Luther and the Reformation, was the scene of Royal Residences, brilliant Champs de Mai, and solemn diets of the empire, is now a mouldering mass of