painted glass are
very fine; but some of the old windows, by Weyde, are grand indeed.

In this church the famous sacramental wafers are placed away as relics
of inestimable value. Perhaps you recollect the story of the Jews who
purloined them, and profanely stuck the consecrated bread with knives;
when, lo, a miracle! blood came from the incision, and the unbelievers
were smitten down. Of course, they were taken, and tormented, and burnt.
This was at the close of the fourteenth century. The great celebration
of this Popish imposition of a miracle is kept up in July every year.

All one side of this noble building is a set of mean, low, one and
two-story shanties, which deface the appearance of the venerable pile.

While in the church, we saw vast numbers of boys and girls, who had come
to make their confession and prepare for their first communion, to take
place next day. We often saw in the streets of Paris and Brussels girls
dressed in white, with wreaths of flowers, and boys, with dresses that
looked as if they were bound to a wedding; these were young people going
to communion. The poor children in this church looked as funny on the
occasion, sitting and chatting, waiting for their turn to confess, as
the priest looked tired and indifferent.

We spent much of our leisure time walking in the noble park and gardens.
O, when shall we have in America such care taken of our few green spots,
in our great cities, as is here displayed? No lady can be more chary of
the order of her drawing-room than are the authorities at Brussels of
these beautiful promenades. Then, too, here are avenues of trees that
make you in love with the city as you enter it. I do wish all our towns
would raise committees of public-spirited men, who should undertake, by
voluntary contributions, or town action, to plant the roadsides that
form the entrances to these places. I was delighted, some months ago, to
hear that a few gentlemen at Haverhill, in Massachusetts, had banded
together for this purpose. Charley, if you live to take an active share
in the business of life, try and do something for the place you live in
that shall appear after you have gone; make the spot of your residence
better, because you have once lived in it. We are too selfish; we do not
fulfil our duty to those who are to come after us; we do not, even in
the matters of this present state, live up to the great law of our
being--"No man liveth to himself."

Leopold's Palace i