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 cities of Brabant, his expectations rose to a high pitch. Traces of wealth and luxury were every where visible; no penury, no wretchedness of any kind, were to be seen. “This is the seat of industry,” cried Frank; “my father’s debtors are doubtless in very good plight. They must have improved in their circumstances, and, I dare say, will be ready to pay me when I produce my vouchers for the justness of my demands.” But first, on refreshing himself after the fatigues of his journey, he resolved to inquire into their actual situation and credit. “How does Peter Martens go on?” he inquired of some persons at table. “Is he still alive, and thriving?”—“Peter is a rich man,” replied one of the company; “he is in good credit.”

“What are Fabian of Pleers’ circumstances, think you?”—“Why, he hardly knows how to employ his money—that is the fact. He belongs to the council, and his woollen-trade makes him ample returns.”

“Is Jonathan Prishkur in a good line of business?”—“He would just be worth a plum, had not the Emperor Maximilian suffered the French to run away with his bride. Jonathan had an order to provide lace for her bridal dresses, but the Emperor would not keep his bargain with his merchant, any