as he laid a pot of preserve on the table. He was the landlady's son
or grandson, and a better boy never lived, but his part, for all his
spirit and good humour, was a tragic one. For the greatest misfortune
that can come upon an hotel-keeper had crushed this house: Baedeker
had excised their star!

The landlady moved in the background, a disconsolate figure with
a grievance. She waylaid us as we went out and as we came in. Was
it not a good hotel? Was not the management excellent? Had we
any complaints? And yet--see--once she had a star and now it was
gone. Could we not help to regain it? Here was the secret of the
grandson's splendid zeal. The little fellow was fighting to hitch
the old hotel to a star once more, as Emerson had bidden.

Alas, it was in vain; for that was seven years ago, and I see that
Baedeker still withholds the distinction. What a variety of misfortune
this little world holds! While some of us are indulging our right
to be unhappy over a thousand trivial matters, such as illness and
disillusion, there are inn-keepers on the Continent who are staggering
and struggling under real blows.

I wondered if it were better to have had a star and lost it, than
never to have had a star at all. But I did not ask. The old lady's
grief was too poignant, her mind too practical, for such questions.

S'Gravenhage or Den Haag, or The Hague as we call it, being the seat
of the court, is at once the most civilised and most expensive of the
Dutch cities. But it is not conspicuously Dutch, and is interesting
rather for its pictures and for its score of historic buildings about
the Vyver than for itself. Take away the Vyver and its surrounding
treasures and a not very noteworthy European town would remain.

And yet to say so hardly does justice to this city, for it has
a character of its own that renders it unique: cosmopolitan and
elegant; catholic in its tastes; indulgent to strangers; aristocratic;
well-spaced and well built; above all things, bland.

And the Vyver is a jewel set in its midst, beautiful by day and
beautiful by night, with fascinating reflections in it at both times,
and a special gift for the transmission of bells in a country where
bells are really honoured. On its north side is the Vyverberg with
pleasant trees and a row of spacious and perfectly self-composed
white houses, one of which, at the corner, has in its windows the
most exquisite long lace curtains in this country of exquisite long