gen. I had intended to reach the town by
steam-tram, but the time table was deceptive and the engine stopped
permanently at a station two or three miles away. Fortunately, however,
a curtained brake was passing, and into this I sprang, joining
two women and a dominie, and together we ambled very deliberately
into the quiet seaport. Harlingen is a double harbour--inland and
maritime. Barges from all parts of Friesland lie there, transferring
their goods a few yards to the ocean-going ships bound for England
and the world, although Friesland does not now export her produce
as once she did. Thirty years ago much of our butter and beef and
poultry sailed from Harlingen.

The town lies in the savour of the sea. Masts rise above the houses,
ship-chandlers' shops send forth the agreeable scent of tar and
cordage, sailors and stevedores lounge against posts as only those
that follow the sea can do. I had some beef and bread, in the Dutch
midday manner, in the upper room of an inn overlooking the harbour,
while two shipping-clerks played a dreary game of billiards. Beyond the
dyke lay the empty grey sea, with Texel or Vlieland a faint dark line
on the horizon. Nothing in the town suggested the twentieth century,
or indeed any century. Time was not.

I wish that Mr. Bos had been living, that I might have called upon
him and seen his pictures, as M. Havard did. But he is no more, and
I found no one to tell me of the fate of his collection. Possibly it
is still to be seen: certainly other visitors to Harlingen should be
more energetic than I was, and make sure. Here is M. Havard's account
of Mr. Bos and an evening at his house: "Mr. Bos started in life as
a farm-boy--then became an assistant in a shop. Instead of spending
his money at the beer-houses he purchased books. He educated himself,
and being provident, steady, industrious, he soon collected sufficient
capital to start in business on his own account, which he did as a
small cheesemonger; but in time his business prospered, and to such
an extent that one day he awoke to find himself one of the greatest
and richest merchants of Harlingen.

"Many under these circumstances would have considered rest was not
undeserved; but Mr. Bos thought otherwise. He became passionately fond
of the arts. Instead of purchasing stock he bought pictures, then
the books necessary to understand them, and what with picking up an
engraving here and a painting there he soon became possessed of a m