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was a fine day, the 2nd November 1886, and at 10 I left the white cliffs of Dover, and our steamer crossed over a perfectly smooth sea, to Ostend in five hours. Ostend is now one of the finest and busiest watering places in Europe, and has long been the gate to Belgium from the west. I took this route on my way to Germany, and as I passed through Belgium and Holland, I will speak of those countries before I begin my account of Germany.

The little kingdom of Belgium has a chequered and eventful history of its own. For Flanders i. e., the south-western portion of modern Belgium, rose to great importance in the Middle Ages owing to the industries of its inhabitants and the activity of its trade; and early in the 13th century Bruges was the centre of the famous Hanseatic League. Venetian and Lombard merchants exposed here to the gaze of astonished and rude barons the famed manufactures of India, and the carpets and silk of Persia; and rich argosies from Genoa and Constantinople were unladen at this place. The bold traders and citizens of Bruges and Ghent fought hard and long against the supremacy of France and at last secured complete independence under the Courts of Flanders. But at the latter