the greatest delicacies of the country. Such attractions are sufficient to entice many sportsmen to these solitudes, who generally establish their headquarters at St. Hubert. I have already spoken of the Ardennais horses; these are hardy animals, some of them of no mean speed. In ancient times they gave the Treviri the reputation of possessing the best mounted cavalry in Gaul. The mountain sheep of Luxembourg are of very small size, but yield a fine wool.

The Walloons, who inhabit this province, as well as those of Liége, Namur, Hainaut, Eastern Limbourg, and a portion of Brabant, are a race distinct from the Flemings in character as well as in language. Their traits are thus given by an admirable writer, in a work now in the course of publication.*

"This race is of Gaelic origin, as the names of cities, towns, and hamlets attest. It possesses the fire, the courage, the independence, the vivacity, the eloquence of the Celts; black eyes, brown hair, an acute expression of countenance. It gives to Music and Literature the preference over the Arts of Design. It would be wrong, nevertheless, to consider it as completely French; this race appears so to the Teutonic nations, but the French discover in it a Germanic air. Good humour, simplicity, the calm of individual passions, are traits which in reality distinguish this people no less than the Germans. The cold and observing glance

* Alfred Michiels, Histoire de la Peinture Flamande et Hollandaise.

of the Gaelic nations characterizes them not; they cannot, like these, read the depths of the soul; they cannot judge by anticipation, spy out sentiments, foresee intentions. There is a mournful sadness beneath the gayety of the French, a cruel indifference under their attractive manners. The affability of the Germans is more sincere, and the Walloons are like them in this respect. It is certain, moreover, that at the moment when the Roman invasion took place, Teutonic colonies occupied the entire soil of what now forms Belgium, after having expelled the original possessors belonging to the Gallic race. Almost all the institutions which governed the Walloon cities during the feudal epoch were of a German nature. In fine, the provinces just mentioned abound in legends, like the countries beyond the Rhine."

This blending of the German and French character in that of the Walloons is very perceptible. To the order, morality, and industry of the one, they unite the gayety and affability of the other. Even the lowest classes have a tincture of courtly manners; the peasants, when they meet, take off their hats to each other, with every demonstration of mutual respect. An old beggar, on whom I had bestowed a few centimes, offered me his snuff-box with a recommendation of its contents, and another put my Republican simplicity to the blush by addressing me with the title of "Monseigneur." The original Celtic base of the Walloon language was no doubt deeply modified by the German invasion,

H

It afterward sustained a still more radical alteration from the all-pervading influence of Rome, and, from the number of words of Latin origin thus introduced into it, it has a striking resemblance to the old French. It has, nevertheless, a character peculiar to itself, and an energy of expression is ascribed to it which cannot be imitated in other languages. The Walloon tongue can hardly be said to possess a literature. It boasts some chron

icles written in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, but at present only popular songs and other trivial works appear in it. French has everywhere supplanted this language in polite society, and it is only heard in its purity in the villages and among the lower orders. A great defect and obstacle to its improvement is found in the variety of its dialects, which differ so widely one from another that the Walloon of Hainaut is unintelligible to a Liégeois, and, strange to say, even the different quarters of the city of Liége vary in their pronunciation.

The similarity which exists between the Walloon and the old French may be seen in the following version of the Lord's Prayer in the former language.

Nos peer kest â cier, santifié se ti nom. Ti royâme nos avieun. Ta volontei so faite en l'terr com â cier. Diné no nos pein k'tidien ajourdhu : et pardon no pechei com no pardonn no detteu. Et nos indus nin en tentation, mein delivre no de mal. Amen.*

* Etudes Historiques et Littéraires sur le Wallon, par Ferd.

Henaux,

CHAPTER VII.

Bouillon.-Dutch and Belgian Luxembourg.-Abbey of Orval.City of Luxembourg.-The Moselle.-Monument of Igel.-Processions.-Treves.

HAVING hired an antique vehicle, called here, by courtesy, a cabriolet," I left St. Hubert on the 8th. The roads lately constructed throughout the province of Luxembourg are admirable specimens of engineering, and certainly the finest which exist in Belgium. Indeed, the scale on which they have been planned seems hardly warranted by the population or business of this part of the country. I have travelled on these splendid roads for hours without meeting a single individual, much less a vehicle of any description. They appear to have been constructed with exclusive reference to the future, and certainly such perfect means of internal communication must eventually prove of immense advantage to this portion of the kingdom.

I was anxious to see Bouillon, the cradle of that ephemeral dynasty of kings which the knights of the West established on the throne of the Holy City. On the banks of the Meuse I had visited one spot where the preacher of the first crusade spent the closing years of his life; another, where the last Queen of Jerusalem lies buried; and now I beheld the place where its first king, Godfrey of Bouillon, passed his youth. No part of Europe

sent to the Holy Wars more numerous or valiant soldiers than the Flemish or Walloon provinces. Among them Godfrey stands pre-eminent. His is one of the few historical characters which approach perfection. His intrepid valour forms a beautiful contrast to the purity of his heart, and to the modesty which, when the unanimous voice of his companions pronounced him alone worthy of the crown, would permit him to accept no higher title than that of "Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre.”

Bouillon is at present a miserable and filthy town of about 3000 inhabitants, situated in a ravine, or, rather, a hole among the rocks. The Semoy, a tributary of the Meuse, flows through it. Entering the ravine from the south, through a rocky portal, the river meanders through a beautiful landscape, in the background of which stands the castle of Bouillon, an uncouth mass of walls and stunted towers, none of them of earlier date than the middle of the sixteenth century. It occupies, nevertheless, the site of the original castle of Godfrey, and beneath the present buildings are gloomy dungeons, of a vast antiquity, hewn out of the solid rock. My guide showed me here an excavation called "Godfrey's Arm-chair," a name probably invented to excite the interest of strangers, for Godfrey could hardly have resorted to these abodes of wretchedness, where, as I groped through the darkness, I trod suddenly upon the iron grate which covered the opening of the oubliettes, the