LETTER XXVI.

Cologne.

MY DEAR

WE embarked yesterday morning on board a boat, or packet, which is here called a coche d'eau, and sailed, or rather floated down the Rhine to this place. The river runs at the rate of six miles an hour. But before I leave Mayence I must say sething about that ancient, and, on many accounts, interesting city.

Mayence was formerly the first electorate of the German empire. It was also an archbishopric, and the archbishop and the elector were the same person. It was the privilege of the elector of Mayence to crown the emperors. It is now a bishopric simply, and the capital of Mont-Tonnerre. was a Roman station, and the first town was built by Drusus Germanicus (Magontiacum). One of the archbishops was Boniface, our countryman.His monument is in the cathedral.

It

The cathedral, called "Le Dôme," is a most venerable pile, and is remarkably rich in ancient monuments; amongst others it contains the tomb of Fastrada, wife of Charlemagne. Its architecture is plain.

We were much interested with the man who shewed us the cathedral. He was a Tyrolese, and had borne a commission in the army of France. He told us that he was not always poor, but he had lost his all in the revolution. He said he was at the taking of Corsica. The family of Buonaparte, including young Napoleon, then a boy, fell into his hands, and was carried by him into France. He told us that he had saved the life of the two sons of the Duke of Conde, and twice he had saved the life of the Bishop of Mayence, who was deposed at the period of the revolution, but was now restored by the pope to his ecclesiastical functions and dignity. The old man spoke of him with the greatest feeling almost with tears.

The collegiate church of St. Stephen is a very ancient edifice. It stands upon an elevated scite. We ascended to the top of its tower, and enjoyed a fine view of the city, the opposite fort of Cassel, the Rhine, the Mein, and the surrounding country.

It was in this city that the art of printing with metal types was invented in the fifteenth century. The

house in which the first press was established was not long since standing in the street of the Cordonniers. At present, however, it is entirely destroyed. We stood upon its ruins, and took a relick from its foundation. The French, with their characteristic levity of disposition, began to build a theatre upon the spot. A few pillars in part erected are standing, the monuments of their indifference and folly. Our guide at the cathedral expressed his opinion of the French in rather strong terms: he said the Germans at Mayence hated the French as they hate the devil! How much that is, however, I do not pretend to say.

There are some interesting Roman antiquities in this place. We saw one which is on the ramparts. It is a solitary tower, the remains of a fortification built by Drusus. There are also the ruins of a Roman aqueduct in the neighbourhood, which we saw from the top of St. Stephen's.

There is in Mayence a gallery of paintings, and a library of ninety thousand volumes. In the library are preserved some relicks taken from the house in which printing was invented, and illustrative of the earliest efforts of that art.

The voyage usually made by travellers down the Rhine, commences at Mayence and terminates at Cologne. Coblence is exactly half way. About

four miles from Mayence, at Biberic, on the right bank of the river, is the noble palace of the Grand Duke of Nassau. It is close on the water's edge, and has a delightful garden. Not long after leaving the chateau, the Grand Duke passed us in his state barge. About twenty miles from Mayence, at Bingen, on the left bank of the river, the Nahe empties itself into the Rhine, and forms, in that direction, the boundary of the newly-acquired Prussian territories. Thence all on the left as far as Cologne, is Prussia. From Bingen the scenery of the Rhine is extremely grand and romantic. The river, broad and rapid, winds round the bases of abrupt and lofty mountains. At every turn you seem to be enclosed by the hills on the bosom of a fresh lake, and each, as it rapidly succeeds the other, has its own peculiar features of majesty and beauty.Towns and cities, venerable for their antiquity, and peaceful villages and hamlets, skirt its banks. Almost every town you pass has its ruined castle, frowning on a proud eminence above it-embosomed in delicious woods, or seated on the rugged brow of some projecting rock. Desolated abbeys and cathedrals, the remains of the purest age of gothic architecture, are profusely scattered over the varied scene-and it requires, amid such interesting relicks, no great effort of the imagination, to conceive the stream, as you pass along, haunted by the heroes and the ecclesiastics of former times.

We dined yesterday at Caub, a village on the right bank of the river. While we were at dinner, a poor half-starved dog came in to take what chance or compassion might throw in his way. Our pity soon became his advocate, and a plate plentifully supplied with bones and bread was the result of its pleading in his behalf. The door of the room was open, and in the course of the meal, turning that way, I observed a poor, meagre, ragged boy looking wistfully at the bones which the dog was rapidly devouring. I never saw the intense anxiety of hunger so depicted in a human countenance before-or met with such an illustration of the feelings of the prodigal, who would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat. The look was eloquent-who could resist its power. I beckened him into the room, and put into his eager hand a lump of bread and a mutton chop. He was leaving the room, when an old man, who had witnessed our bounty to the lad, rushed in. At his appearance I put out my arm to repel his solicitation, crying out, we shall have all the town. to dine if we go on at this rate. The poor old man immediately turned away-he made no complainthe uttered no exclamation-but I could see the pangs of hunger in his countenance, and the tear started in his eye. This was more than I could bear-and touched to the very heart, I tasted an exquisite luxury in seeing this poor wretch depart with the smile of gratitude upon his lips.