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. 18, 1862.] of many a Dutchman, I found them very comfortably located, making pleasant preparations for our reception. They were much surprised to hear of Geoffrey’s position, and Tom’s friend, Mr. Winter, at once offered to get the required amount from our new host. Soon I had set off at top speed, with the sum in my hand, and on reaching the hotel, went straight to the coffee-room. But Geoffrey had vanished. I knew he would not have attempted to get away unseen, so I began to be rather fearful that he had been removed to a place of greater security. When the waiter appeared in answer to my vigorous summons, he was a little frightened by my angry demand for my brother.

“Oh, please sar, he ist gone!”

“Where?” I interjected.

“Please, sar, he found zat ze landlord had made a meestake in ze bill, and ze landlord beg he’es pardon, and geef him back five guilders, which made it all right.”

This was gratifying, and I walked back in a contented frame of mind to the inn on the Spanish Quay, where I found Geoffrey had joined the party.

We were obliged to abandon our design of seeing more of Holland, as we did not wish to trespass to a greater extent than was absolutely necessary upon our friend’s credit. Our new host, Mynheer Winkelried, was very willing that we should leave our bill unpaid, and also to advance the money necessary for our passage home. We gladly accepted this arrangement, as we felt unable to write to our friends for supplies, when we had not consulted the domestic authorities before starting. But we had three wintry days, which must needs be passed in Rotterdam, before the packet sailed for England.

They who know this busy, trading Dutch city as tourists, will feel that this compulsory sojourn was the greatest misfortune of our journey. Cut off eastern from western London, at the first of the bridges, and from Billingsgate to Blackwall you have the nearest representation which London can afford to Rotterdam. The streets of the Dutch city are wider, certainly, than those of Wapping, and often partly occupied by canals, which, to the credit of Holland be it spoken, are generally fringed with trees. It is some ten years since we were there, but allowing for the lapse of time, if I were now asked for an opinion as to the chief feature of Rotterdam, my impressions would lead me to say,—Dutch cheese. Round and fiat they are rolling everywhere, over the quay sides into billy-boys and warehouses from country carts. The canal bridges are another and a less important feature of Rotterdam. During our three days’ imprisonment we often watched the hoisting of these cumbrous machines, to let some boat pass through, while the attendant obtruded upon the notice of the boatman his little money bag, fastened at the end of a long pole, and in which he received the bridge dues from those who passed.

Worthy Hollanders, forgive us if we could not find many beauties in your city. We do indeed remember that art was represented by a statue of Erasmus, which was as noticeable as that of Pitt, in Hanover Square; and certainly we did see a large church and a very large organ. But we had come from Antwerp, we had seen Rubens illustrating the divine mysteries of our religion, and high pews and whitewash had no charm for us.

We walked the Hof Strasse, and penetrated the questionable purlieus of the Sand Strasse. Dutch vrows and Dutch mynheers doubtless have warm and honest hearts, perseverance, intelligence, and—after their own fashion—activity; Dutch pictures are full of quaint humour and homely interest; but descriptions of Dutch cities and Dutch scenery will never be acceptable unless they are microscopic, and we have not the materials for manufacturing a representation of Rotterdam in mosaic.

We were truly glad when the morning of departure arrived, and we saw the “King William” getting up her steam for the voyage to England. With many thanks to Mynheer Winkelried for his kindness, and with a friendly greeting of our good friend Mr. Winter, who had stayed with us the whole time, we went on board. Scarcely had we left the mouth of the Maas, when even we could see that a storm was brewing. We remained on deck for some time, watching the misery of the cattle with which the ship was partly freighted. Soon, however, we were ordered to go below, as the waves were coming on deck in a manner which might be dangerous to an incautious landsman. The hatches were fastened down, and the tossing of the ship was only varied by an occasional trembling as she received the shock of a wave upon her broadside. Three of us were stomach-proof against the effects of the storm, but the cabin was full of groans and sickness, and every moveable article, except the passengers, was rolling about in a state of the utmost confusion. Towards morning the storm abated, and we were released from our confinement, but yet the effects of the rough night were very visible on deck. Twelve calves lay dead of sea-sickness and salt water, and high up the funnel and the rigging were traces of the aspiring rudeness of the waves. Soon we gained the quiet waters of the Thames, and signalling a fishing-boat off the spot where we wished to land, lowered ourselves into the fishermen’s skiff, and rowed for the shore. Ten days had elapsed since we left the old farm-house. My father was there, and seemed uncertain as to whether he should scold or praise us for an adventure which he evidently thought showed some spirit. On the whole, I think he was more pleased with his sons than they were with themselves. We sent good Mynheer Winkelried his money, with a silver snuff-box for a present, and have ever since profited by the moral of our expedition, which is—never undertake a journey without possessing the means to the end.

A. A.

you ever know a path across a level field to be straight, when formed by the feet of wayfarers alone? There is the opposite stile which you seek, there is nothing to turn you to the right hand or to the left, but your own swerving fancy; and that makes the field-path crooked, invariably. It seems as if no one could walk straight alone,