spread its soft, white vail, around the bright green wood. Every thing promised us a beautiful morrow. It shone upon our journey to
Antwerp, October 9th.—At Antwerp, I was entertained in the former house and home of Rubens,—the relatives of Madame Duepetiaux receiving us with the greatest hospitality. The life-enjoyable, artistic home, with all its wealth of color, and where still many well-preserved pictures and ornaments bear witness to his taste, is inhabited at the present time by a young couple, so handsome and so loveable, that Rubens, had he seen them, would have seized upon his pencil, or have—flung it away.
The Museum of Antwerp, which contains many of the greatest masterpieces of the Flemish school, deserves to be frequently visited by all lovers of art. It furnished me with some hours of rich enjoyment. One painting, “The Adoration of the Three Kings,” of which I have never seen any engraving, has, more than any other picture of Rubens, given me an understanding of his genius.
The harbor of Antwerp, the river Scheldt, which here, near the sea, is broad, and brings up into the city ships from all parts of the world, now landing on the quays their manifold lading, and the great emigrant ships, carrying out the superabundant population of Europe, to the still unpeopled, and affluent plains, of the New World, present a scene full of animation. The most remarkable object in Antwerp, however, is its Cathedral-tower, which elevates itself above the ancient church, like a crown of crystallized
