"Hotel Waterloo,
Monsieur." "Hotel Bellevue." "Hotel Bedford, Monsieur." "Hotel
d'Angleterre," _ad infinitum_--and then there was the pouring out of the
Noah's Ark, with their countenances wearing a most paradoxical
appearance, for they evidently showed that they had had, quite enough of
water, and, at the same time, that they required a great deal more. I
looked at my children, as they were hoisted up from the ladies' cabin,
one after another; and upon examination I decided that, with their
smudged faces, the Hotel des _Bains_ would be the most appropriate to
their condition; so there we went.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Ostend, April 18, 1835.

I was confoundedly taken in by a rascal of a commissionnaire, and aware
how the feelings of travellers are affected by the weather or the
treatment they receive at any place they may pass through, I shall
display the heroism of saying nothing about the place, except that I
believe Ostend to be the most rascally hole in the world, and the sooner
the traveller is out of it so much the better will it be for his purse
and for his temper.

April 19.

It has been assumed as an axiom that every one in this world is fond of
power. During our passage in the track-schuyt I had an evidence to the
contrary, for as we glided noiselessly and almost imperceptibly along, a
lady told me that she infinitely preferred the three-horse power of the
schuyt to the hundred-horse power of the steam-packet. We arrived at
Bruges, escaping all the horrors and difficulties of steam navigation.

House rent at Bruges is cheap, because one half of the houses are
empty--at least that was the cause assigned to me, although I will not
vouch for its being the true one. The reader may remember that this was
the site of cheap peaches, but none met our sight, the trees not being
yet in blossom. I ought to observe, for the satisfaction of the Foreign
Bible Society, that at the hotel at Bruges I saw a book of their
exportation lying on the chimney-piece in excellent preservation.

April 21.

As to what passed on our canal voyage to Ghent, I can only say that
every thing passed us--for the roads were very heavy, the horses very
lazy, and the boys still lazier--they rode their horses listlessly,
sitting on them sideways, as I have seen lads in the country swinging on
a gate--whereby the _gait_ of the track-schuyt could not be styled a
swinging pace. We did arrive at last, and thus ended our water
carriage.