had a scene of confusion unusual in these countries, that should and do get the benefit of order from their abounding police-men. A number of arklike, two-story omnibuses were drawn up. Calling out being prohibited, the signal to attract attention was a hiss, and the hissing of rival conductors was like nothing so much as a flock of enraged geese. We got involved in a dispute that menaced us with a fate similar to that adjudged by Solomon to the contested child. Monsieur le Courier had promised us to the "omnibus Jaune," and Mademoiselle la Couriere to the "omnibus Rouge;" the yellow finally carried it, and we were driven off amid such hisses as Dante might have imagined a fit Inferno for a bad actor. Poor M. lost her travelling-cloak in the confusion. I can tell you nothing of Liege, from my own observation, but that it is a most picturesque old place, with one part of the town rising precipitously above the other in the fashion of Quebec; and that we went to see the interior court of the Palais de Justice, formerly the archbishop's palace, whose name will recall to you Quentin Derward. It is surrounded by a colonnade with short pillars, each carved after a different model. We walked round the space within the colonnade, which is filled with stalls containing such smaller merchandise as you find around our market-places. The English call Liege the Birmingham of Belgium. Their staple manufactory is firearms, and Mr. Murray tells us "they produce a better article, and at a lower price, than can be made for the same sum in England"—a
