CLEVES.

This place, which, being the capital of a duchy, is entitled a City, consists of some irregular streets, built upon the brow of a steep hill. It is walled, but cannot be mentioned as fortified, having no solid works. The houses are chiefly built of stone, and there is a little of Dutch cleanliness; but the marks of decay are strongly impressed upon them, and on the ancient walls. What little trade there is, exists in retailing goods sent from Holland. The Dutch language and coins are in circulation here, almost as much as the German.

The established religion of the town is Protestant; but here is an almost universal toleration, and the Catholics have several churches and monasteries. Cleves has suffered a various fate in the sport of war during many centuries, but has now little to distinguish it except the beauty of its prospects, which extend into Guelderland and the province of Holland, over a country enriched with woody hills and vallies of corn and pasturage.

Being convinced, in two or three hours, that there was nothing to require a longer stay, we set out for Xanten, a town in the same duchy, distant about eighteen miles. For nearly the whole of this length the road lay through a broad avenue, which frequently entered a forest of oak, fir, elm, and majestic plane-trees, and emerged from it only to wind along its skirts. The views then opened over a country, diversified with gentle hills, and ornamented by numberless spires upon the heights, every small town having several convents. The castle of Eltenberg, on the summit of a wooded mountain, was visible during the whole of this stage and part of the next day's journey. Yet the fewness, or the poverty, of the inhabitants appeared from our meeting only one chaise, and two or three small carts, for eighteen miles of the only high-road in the country.

It was a fine evening in June, and the rich lights, thrown among the forest glades, with the solitary calmness of the scene, and the sereneness of the air, filled with scents from the woods, were circumstances which persuaded to such tranquil rapture as Collins must have felt when he had the happiness to address to Evening—

For when thy folding star, arising, shews
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp,
The fragrant hours and elves
Who slept in buds the day:

And many a nymph, who wreaths her brows with sedge,
And sheds the fresh'ning dew, and, lovelier still,
The pensive pleasures sweet
Prepare thy shadowy car.

A small half-way village, a stately convent, with its gardens, called Marienbaum, founded in the 15th century by Maria, Duchess of Cleves, and a few mud cottages of the woodcutters, were the only buildings on the road: the foot passengers were two Prussian soldiers. It was moonlight, and we became impatient to reach Xanten, long before our driver could say, in a mixture of German and Dutch, that we were near it. At length from the woods, that had concealed the town, a few lights appeared over the walls, and dissipated some gloomy fancies about a night to be passed in a forest.