in the ranks made
by their deaths, exposed to the same leaden messengers; a system of
warfare in which every individual is a part of a grand _whole_, acting
upon one concerted and extended plan, and forced a hundred times to
exhibit the passive and more perfect bravery of constancy, for once that
he may forget his danger in the ardour of the charge! When shall we
learn to call things by their right names?"

Liege, May 28.
Our landlord is a most loyal man, but there is a reason for it. Leopold
took up his quarters at this hotel in his way to Spa. In every room we
have upon every article of _fayence_--"Leopold, with the Genius of
Belgium crowning him with laurels, while Truth is looking on." Every
plate, every dish, is impressed with this proof print of loyalty. But
this is not all, as the man said in the packet, "Oh, no!" All the
wash-hand basins, jugs, and every other article required in a
bed-chamber, have the same loyal pattern at the bottom. Now it appeared
to me, when I went to bed, that loyalty might be carried too far; and
what may have been intended as respect, may be the cause of his Majesty
being treated with the greatest disrespect; and not only his sacred
Majesty, but the glorious Belgian constitution also. As for poor Truth,
she is indeed said to sojourn at the bottom of a well; but in this
instance, it would, perhaps, be as well that she should not be
insulted--I am wrong, she always is, and always will be, insulted, when
she appears in the purlieus of a court, or in the presence of a king.

After all, mine is a strange sort of Diary. It is not a diary of
events, but of thoughts and reminiscences, which are thrown up and
caught as they float to the surface in the whirlpool of my brain. No
wonder!--events are but as gleanings compared to the harvest of many
years, although so negligently gathered into store. I have been
puzzling myself these last two hours to find out what a man's brain is
like. It is like a kaleidoscope, thought I; it contains various ideas
of peculiar colours, and as you shift them round and past, you have a
new pattern every moment. But no, it was not like a kaleidoscope, for
the patterns of a kaleidoscope are regular, and there is very little
regularity in my brain, at all events.

It is like a pawnbroker's shop, thought I, full of heterogeneous
pledges; and if you would take anything out, experience stands at the