In the unrivalled collection of Scandinavian antiquities in the Museum there is much to instruct and amuse the traveller, while the Museum of Thorwaldsen, surrounded by hundreds of this immortal Danish artist's works, will delight him beyond expression. We shall not, however, confine ourselves to the sights of the city, but extend our inquiries to Elsinore, the supposed scene of incidents in the life of Hamlet; to Cronsberg Castle, with its sad story of Caroline Matilda, sister of George III. of England and wife of Denmark's imbecile king, Christian VII.; and to the many quaint old castles hereabouts, which have legends and traditions attaching to them not less interesting than those of the Rhine and the Moselle. At Trondhjem, the ancient capital of Norway, we shall call up spirits from the vasty deep of history, and Harald Haarfagr, Ganger Rolf, Hakon, Olaf, and grim old Vikings without number will arise to tell us of battles on sea and land, and to relate strange old sagas and legends from the Edda. The cathedral in which the Kings of Norway are crowned; the spot which old Bernadotte could not pass except with uncovered head-the open space where the Thing (or local Parliament) used in olden times to be held, and where each new king was proclaimed; the island fortress of Munkholm, with volumes of stories of state prisoners clustering round it; the remains of the Old Palace, now converted into the Royal Arsenal: these, as well as a glimpse at the trade, habits, and educational institutions of the people, and the exquisite scenery in the midst of which they dwell, will well repay us for a visit to "Gamle Norge." All Holland is a "wonder-land." Everywhere the traveller is brought into contact with the fact that each inch of ground he treads has been rescued from the waters, and is held together by the skill and ingenuity of man; everywhere he has evidence of the industry of the people in canals and dykes and dunes, in countless windmills, in gardens and summer-houses, in cleanliness and thrift; everywhere, too, there are brought to mind noble deeds of the past, when, to free the land from Spanish tyranny, the Dutch cut the dykes as their last desperate resource in defence of their native land. Erasmus said of Amsterdam that it was a city whose inhabitants, like crows, lived on the tops of the trees, in allusion to the piles driven in the sand on which the city is built; while Butler said of the whole country that it The structure and history of Amsterdam, its trade and commerce, the rise and progress of art, the laws of the land, the diamond-cutting establishments, the cultivation of hyacinths and tulips-these will be topics of general information of an interesting character; while the hut in which Peter the Great worked as a common shipwright, the cottage of the heroic De Ruyter, the orphanage in which the gallant Van Speyk was brought up, will serve as pegs on which to hang some pleasant biographies. The picture galleries and historical associations of the Hague; the University and the museums at Leyden; the grand organ in the great Church of St. Bavon at Haarlem ; the house in which William, Prince of Orange, was assassinated at Delft; the Dutch cheeses of Broek: these and other things will furnish us with material when we take up the pen to write of days spent in Holland. It will, we think, be patent to every reader-disguise our incapacity in whatever language we may-that we are at a loss to know where to commence a running description of the cities of France, Austria, Belgium, and Germany; and even if we did, that it would make this introductory chapter interminable to give the briefest outline of Paris, Rouen, Marseilles, and Lyons; of Vienna, Berlin, Cologne, Munich, and Nuremberg; of Brussels, Antwerp, Ghent, and Liége-cities old almost as the hills, original and picturesque, with memories intertwining themselves with all countries and all time. Let the reader who would estimate the difficulty think for a moment of Paris gay and mournful, flower-strewn and blood-stained, the home of peaceful arts and the scene of sanguinary revolutions, where every street has a history, and every history a moral, and say where he would select an incident, or fix upon a representative man, or even an age that should be typical of all the ages. We shrink from such responsibility here, but when the proper time comes we shall go fully into the history of the leading cities of these countries. In Switzerland we shall come into contact with everything that goes to make up the perfection of scenery, with traces of a stirring history, and with an industrious and very interesting people. Let Geneva and its lake suffice as an illustration. It has a history without beginning of days or end of years, for if we commence with the Lake Dwellings and the mysterious tribes who inhabited them we are not even then at the starting-point. Yet, commencing there, we may examine in the museums strange memorials of the "Age of Stone," and passing on, we may find traces of the conquests of Helvetians and Allobroges, of Romans, and Burgundians, and Germans. Men of all ages and all creeds will accost us; traditions of persecutions and treacheries, and stories of love and war, will ring in our ears from ruined châteaux; and battles fought with carnal and spiritual weapons will inspirit us as we fight them o'er again." An old Latin inscription found at Coppet says: "I, like thee, have lived; thou, like me, shalt die. So rolls the world. Traveller, go on thy way." Traveller, go on thy way." And so we will; but not till we have spoken to Berthe la Fileuse, the ideal medieval heroine, who still haunts the mountains with a winnowing-fan in her hand; not till we have heard the shouts of the flower of the Genevese youth as they burst the bars of the prison and let the patriot Bonnivard, the "Prisoner of Chillon," go free; not till we have heard old John Calvin preach his stern doctrines in the days of the Reformation; not till we have seen Rousseau wandering in the so-called "Bosquet de Julie," celebrated in his "Nouvelle Héloïse," and have talked with this "wild, self-torturing sophist; " not till we have been told again the chivalrous story of the De Blonays; not till we have broken the spell cast over us by sylphs and trolls, dwarfs and sprites in mountain solitudes, will we "pass on" from this charming city of a charming country-of which it may be said, as of Shakspere's heroine : "Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety." All roads in Spain lead to Madrid, as all roads in Europe lead to Rome; and all roads in Madrid lead to the Puerta del Sol (Gate of the Sun), the heart of the city. Here may be seen, at all hours of the day, a motley crowd, dressed for the most part in bright colours, and all intent on doing nothing; mules are passing and re-passing, as if proud to show off their dangling tassels and bright worsted trappings; the curious dresses of the water-carriers, the picturesque uniform of the civil guards, the detachments of troops moving hither and thither, the numerous company of idlersgreater than is to be found in the Boulevards of Paris - all these assist to make up a never-to-be-forgotten effect. At first sight one is inclined to believe the old saying that the Madrileños "do nothing all the week, and go to the bull-fight on Sundays;" certain it is that the life of many consists in a morning lounge in the Puerta. del Sol, an afternoon ride on the Prado, and an evening at the theatre. At Madrid we shall do as the Madrileños do. We shall mingle with the crowd as it moves towards the Plaza de Toros, and describe a bull-fight, the great national amusement, as seen on a high day; and we think that a faithful description will convince the most incredulous that, however much the exhibition may display marvels of skill and daring, it at the same time shows such an amount of barbarity as to make it a disgrace to the inhabitants of a Christian country. The museum contains some notable works of Murillo, disfigured, however, by patchings, plasterings, and restorings, but exhibited with the other art treasures of the country in a building and in a manner worthy of universal imitation. At the Escurial, the tomb of the Spanish kings, with its chapels, sacristy, oratories, and library, we shall find a text for history, while the shrine of the Lady of Atocha will open up a field of inquiry into legendary lore. Cadiz dazzles us with its extreme brightness, and charms us with its splendid situation on an eminence washed on both sides by the sea. Through narrow but clean streets, beneath tall handsome houses, nearly all whitewashed and decorated with bright green shutters and coloured blinds and awnings, we make our way to the port, and find ourselves launched into an inquiry as to the commercial history of Spain. Or we can take a boat, and sail across the beautiful Bay of Cadiz to Santa Maria, near the mouth of the Guadalquiver-for Cadiz, like Genoa, Naples, and Constantinople, is best seen from the sea. And, as a matter worth "taking note of," as our old friend Captain Cuttle would say, it may be added that those cities which look so well from the sea have generally a sea-view of surpassing beauty. As there is nothing in Genoa more enchanting than the view across the bay from Santa Maria in Carignano, or in Naples from the Castel Sant' Elmo, or in Constantinople from the Tower of the Seraskiarat, so in Cadiz, from the Alameda, or the promenade of the fortifications, the view is exquisite. If Cadiz is the Genoa of Spain, Granada is its Florence. Beautiful for situation, it is the joy of the whole land. From the heights looking down upon the city, or from the city looking towards the heights, the gentle undulations near at hand, or the distant snow-capped mountains of the Sierra Nevada, every spot is beautiful, and around every beautiful spot legends, histories, and works of art gather. Here artist, poet, archæologist, antiquary, philosopher, tourist may each find something to enchant him. Of course we shall visit the Alhambra, and endeavour to bear away an ineffaceable impression of the beauty and power of Moorish architecture, as exemplified in this wonderful building, where delicacy blends with strength, and "simplicity, refinement, and truth" are its chief characteristics. The remains of the Old Seraglio, the bazaars, the costly Cartuja, will each receive their share of description; nor shall we omit to tell of the gipsy colony, or pass on without witnessing a gipsy dance and hearing a story or two told round the boiling cauldon. "Fair Lusitania" abounds in romantic legends, in quaint characteristics, and in curious customs; its history is bound up with adventurous lives, its architecture and objects of interest are unique and varied; and, notwithstanding what many writers have said to the contrary, we shall do our best to prove that Lisbon and Oporto deserve to rank among the great cities of the world. Let Athens be our next place of pilgrimage. Entering the port of the Piræus, where are still to be found some traces of the Long Walls of Themistocles stretching all along the four miles of dusty road leading to the city, we approach the "shining, violetwreathed, most happy city," as Aristophanes calls it, and are struck with the marvellous beauty of the Temple of Theseus. It has a peristyle of a single row of thirty-six Doric columns, and a wonderful frieze celebrating the exploits of Hercules and Theseus; and this most exquisite example of a Greek temple-built, it is said, by Cimon about B.c. 470, to |