w scattered shrubs, evergreen,
laurel, and yew, scant blossoms, paths damp, green-crusted--that was
all. Not a cheerful place at its brightest; not a sunny spot associated
in one's mind with summer and girlish voices. It was very still that
day; the pupils were off for the long vacation, and yet how full the
place was to us! The very leaves overhead, the stones in the walls
around us, whispered a story, as we walked to and fro where little feet,
that tired even then of life's rough way, had gone long years before.

"May we take one leaf--only one?" we asked, as we turned away.

"As many as you please;" and the little French woman grasped at the
leaves growing thick and dark above her head. We plucked them with our
own hands, tenderly, almost reverently; then, with many thanks, and our
adieus, we came away.

"We have found it!" we exclaimed, when we had returned to the hotel and
our friends. They only smiled their unbelief.

"Do you not know--can you not see--O, do you not feel?" we cried,
displaying our glistening trophies, "that these could have grown nowhere
but upon the pear trees in the old garden where Charlotte Bronte used to
walk and dream?"

And our words carried conviction to their hearts.

CHAPTER X.

WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM.

To Waterloo.--Beggars and guides.--The
Mound.--Chateau Hougomont.--Victor Hugo's "sunken
road."--Antwerp.--A visit to the cathedral.--A
drive about the city.--An excursion to Ghent.--The
funeral services in the cathedral.--"Poisoned? Ah,
poor man!"--The watch-tower.--The Friday-market
square.--The nunnery.--Longfellow's pilgrims to
"the belfry of Bruges."

WE could not leave the city without driving out to the battle-field of
Waterloo. It is about a dozen miles to The Mound, and you may take the
public coach if you choose--it runs daily. Our party being large, we
preferred to engage a carriage.

We left the house after breakfast, and passed through the wide,
delightful avenues of the Foret de Soignes,--the Bois de Boulogne of
Brussels,--then across the peaceful country which seemed never to have
known anything so disturbing as war. Beyond the park lies the village
which gave its name to the battle-field though the thickest of the fight
was not there. In an old brick church, surmounted by a dome, lie
intombed many minor heroes of the conflict. But heroes soon pall upon
the taste, and