here
are "RUBENS' peecture--moch fine," and plainly proposes to conduct
me thither. Mustn't hurt his feelings again--so accept. Boy clumps
on ahead, down alleys, and through back-streets, and round corners,
looking round severely at intervals to see that I am not giving him
the slip. Nice friendly little fellow--but despotic. Don't seem to be
much nearer; "Sin Yack" evidently a saint of retiring disposition....
At last. Boy points him out triumphantly. Thank him, with apologies
for taking him so much out of his way. Boy demands two francs. Hint,
as delicately as possible, that I consider this estimate of the value
of his time and society somewhat high. Boy peremptory. Give him fifty
centimes. Boy abusive; follows me with uncomplimentary remarks. I can
_not_ go about Antwerp all day with a hostile boy harassing my rear
like this! So undignified. However, shall find sanctuary with "Sin
Yack." Every door closed. Boy at a distance--chuckling, I am afraid.
Shall walk on--not _hurrying_, but briskly. Boy gone at last--thank
goodness!--with Parthian yelp of "Rosbif!"

[Illustration: "Rosbif!"]

_In the Cathedral._--Being shown round by Sacristan, in company with
two respectable young Britons. "You shee dot oltarbiece, gentlemens,"
says Sacristan, "paint by RUBENS, in seexteen day, for seexteen
hondert florin." Whereupon both Britons make a kind of "cluck" with
their tongues. "Dat vos von hondert florin efery day he vas paint,"
explains the Sacristan. Britons do this division sum in their heads,
check it as correct, and evidently feel increased respect for RUBENS
as capable-for an artist--of driving a good bargain. "RUBENS baint
him ven he vas seexteen," which younger Briton considers "very
_creditable_ to him, too!" They inspect the High Altar, with more
clucks, and inform one another, with the air of Protestants who are
above prejudice, that it's a marvellous piece o' _work_, though, mind
yer! Sacristan points out holes underneath choir-stalls. "De organ is
blay over dere, and de mooshique he com out hier troo de 'oles, so all
be beoples vas vender vere de schounds com from!" First Briton remarks
to me that "That's a rum start, and no mistake." I agree that it _is_
a rum start. I shall find myself clucking presently, I know! "Haf you
scheen yed de bortraits of GLATSHTONE and Lort BAGONSFELDT?" Sacristan
asks us "... 'No?' then I show you." He leads us up to the finial of
one of the stalls, which is carved in the figure of a