That Belgium is now one of the European kingdoms, living by its own laws, resting on its own bottom, with a king and court, palaces and parliament of its own, is known to all the world.And a very nice little kingdom it is; full of old towns, fine Flemish pictures, and interesting Gothic churches.But in the memory of very many of us who do not think ourselves old men, Belgium, as it is now called--in those days it used to be Flanders and Brabant--was a part of Holland; and it obtained its own independence by a revolution.In that revolution the most important military step was the siege of Antwerp, which was defended on the part of the Dutch by General Chasse, with the utmost gallantry, but nevertheless ineffectually.

After the siege Antwerp became quite a show place; and among the visitors who flocked there to talk of the gallant general, and to see what remained of the great effort which he had made to defend the place, were two Englishmen.One was the hero of this little history; and the other was a young man of considerably less weight in the world.The less I say of the latter the better; but it is necessary that I should give some description of the former.

The Rev.Augustus Horne was, at the time of my narrative, a beneficed clergyman of the Church of England.The profession which he had graced sat easily on him.Its external marks and signs were as pleasing to his friends as were its internal comforts to himself.

He was a man of much quiet mirth, full of polished wit, and on some rare occasions he could descend to the more noisy hilarity of a joke.Loved by his friends he loved all the world.He had known no care and seen no sorrow.Always intended for holy orders he had entered them without a scruple, and remained within their pale without a regret.At twenty-four he had been a deacon, at twenty-seven a priest, at thirty a rector, and at thirty-five a prebendary;and as his rectory was rich and his prebendal stall well paid, the Rev.Augustus Horne was called by all, and called himself, a happy man.His stature was about six feet two, and his corpulence exceeded even those bounds which symmetry would have preferred as being most perfectly compatible even with such a height.But nevertheless Mr.Horne was a well-made man; his hands and feet were small; his face was handsome, frank, and full of expression; his bright eyes twinkled with humour; his finely-cut mouth disclosed two marvellous rows of well-preserved ivory; and his slightly aquiline nose was just such a projection as one would wish to see on the face of a well-fed good-natured dignitary of the Church of England.When I add to all this that the reverend gentleman was as generous as he was rich--and the kind mother in whose arms he had been nurtured had taken care that he should never want--I need hardly say that I was blessed with a very pleasant travelling companion.

I must mention one more interesting particular.Mr.Horne was rather inclined to dandyism, in an innocent way.His clerical starched neckcloth was always of the whitest, his cambric handkerchief of the finest, his bands adorned with the broadest border; his sable suit never degenerated to a rusty brown; it not only gave on all occasions glossy evidence of freshness, but also of the talent which the artisan had displayed in turning out a well-dressed clergyman of the Church of England.His hair was ever brushed with scrupulous attention, and showed in its regular waves the guardian care of each separate bristle.And all this was done with that ease and grace which should be the characteristics of a dignitary of the established English Church.

I had accompanied Mr.Horne to the Rhine; and we had reached Brussels on our return, just at the close of that revolution which ended in affording a throne to the son-in-law of George the Fourth.

At that moment General Chasse's name and fame were in every man's mouth, and, like other curious admirers of the brave, Mr.Horne determined to devote two days to the scene of the late events at Antwerp.Antwerp, moreover, possesses perhaps the finest spire, and certainly one of the three or four finest pictures, in the world.

Of General Chasse, of the cathedral, and of the Rubens, I had heard much, and was therefore well pleased that such should be his resolution.This accomplished we were to return to Brussels; and thence, via Ghent, Ostend, and Dover, I to complete my legal studies in London, and Mr.Horne to enjoy once more the peaceful retirement of Ollerton rectory.As we were to be absent from Brussels but one night we were enabled to indulge in the gratification of travelling without our luggage.A small sac-de-nuit was prepared; brushes, combs, razors, strops, a change of linen, &c.&c., were carefully put up; but our heavy baggage, our coats, waistcoats, and other wearing apparel were unnecessary.It was delightful to feel oneself so light-handed.The reverend gentleman, with my humble self by his side, left the portal of the Hotel de Belle Vue at 7 a.m., in good humour with all the world.There were no railroads in those days;but a cabriolet, big enough to hold six persons, with rope traces and corresponding appendages, deposited us at the Golden Fleece in something less than six hours.The inward man was duly fortified, and we started for the castle.

It boots not here to describe the effects which gunpowder and grape-shot had had on the walls of Antwerp.Let the curious in these matters read the horrors of the siege of Troy, or the history of Jerusalem taken by Titus.The one may be found in Homer, and the other in Josephus.Or if they prefer doings of a later date there is the taking of Sebastopol, as narrated in the columns of the "Times" newspaper.The accounts are equally true, instructive, and intelligible.In the mean time allow the Rev.Augustus Horne and myself to enter the private chambers of the renowned though defeated general.