The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction | Page 4

for ancient beauty
and ornament. Amongst the tombs in the chancel are those of Sir Rhys
ap Thomas, with the effigies of him and his lady, affording a specimen
of the costume of the reign of Henry VII.; and Sir Richard Steele,
whose remains are discovered by a small, simple tablet. There is a
promenade here, called the Parade, which commands a fine and
extensive view of the surrounding picturesque scenery and of the Towy,
where the coracles may be seen plying about. The town consists of ten
principal streets, noted for being kept clean, and lighted with gas. It is
governed by a mayor, two sheriffs, and twenty councilmen; sends a
member to Parliament, and gives title of marquess to the family of
Osborne. It carries on a great trade in butter and oats; and traffics much
with Bristol by the river Towy, which runs into the sea; whence ships
of two hundred tons burden come up to the town. The bay is very
dangerous, owing to the bar and the quicksands. Its chief manufacture
is tin, which is esteemed the best in the kingdom. It has a small theatre,
in appearance a stable; but it is in contemplation to build a new one, as
also a church; so that you will perceive the march of improvement is
rapidly spreading into Wales, as well as other places.
W.H.
P.S. Since I sent you an account of Picton's Monument at Carmarthen,
it has been altered. The statue, bas-reliefs, and ornaments of the Picton
Monument, have been bronzed by the direction of Mr. Nash, on his late
visit to this town. Elegant as this column was before, the effect of the
bronze, and a few other alterations, have so improved its appearance, as
to make it seem a different structure. Nothing now remains to complete
the outside but the names of the different actions in which Sir T. Picton
was engaged during his honourable career. These are to be placed in
bronzed letters on the base. A Latin inscription, already prepared,
together with the arms and a bust of Picton, will ornament the inside of
the building. It certainly is a monument worthy of the hero to whose
memory it has been erected, and of the country by which it has been
raised.
* * * * *

THE SKETCH BOOK.
* * * * *
WATERLOO, THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.
By an eye witness.
[For the following very interesting Narrative, our acknowledgments are
due to the United Service Journal,--a work which has just started with
the year, and to which, in the "customary" phrase, we wish "many
happy returns."]
The summer of 1815 found me at Brussels. The town was then
crowded to excess--it seemed a city of splendour; the bright and varied
uniforms of so many different nations, mingled with the gay dresses of
female beauty in the Park, and the Allée Verte was thronged with
superb horses and brilliant equipages. The tables d'hôte resounded with
a confusion of tongues which might have rivalled the Tower of Babel,
and the shops actually glittered with showy toys hung out to tempt
money from the pockets of the English, whom the Flemings seemed to
consider as walking bags of gold. Balls and plays, routs and dinners
were the only topics of conversation; and though some occasional
rumours were spread that the French had made an incursion within the
lines, and carried off a few head of cattle, the tales were too vague to
excite the least alarm. I was then lodging with a Madame Tissand, on
the Place du Sablon, and I occasionally chatted with my hostess on the
critical posture of affairs. Every Frenchwoman loves politics, and
Madame Tissand, who was deeply interested in the subject, continually
assured me of her complete devotion to the English.--"Ces maudits
François!" cried she one day, with almost terrific energy, when
speaking of Napoleon's army. "If they should dare come to Brussels, I
will tear their eyes out!"--"Oh, aunt!" sighed her pretty niece;
"remember that Louis is a conscript!"--"Silence, Annette. I hate even
my son, since he is fighting against the brave English!"--This was
accompanied with a bow to me; but I own that I thought Annette's love
far more interesting than Madame's Anglicism.

On the 3rd of June, I went to see ten thousand troops reviewed by the
Dukes of Wellington and Brunswick. Imagination cannot picture any
thing finer than the ensemble of this scene. The splendid uniforms of
the English, Scotch, and Hanoverians, contrasted strongly with the
gloomy black of the Brunswick Hussars, whose veneration for the
memory of their old Duke, could be only be equalled by their devotion
to his son. The firm step of the Highlanders seemed irresistible; and as
they moved in solid masses, they appeared prepared to sweep