old me, is a drug in Holland. Anything
rather than that. No matter how pretty the girl may be, she must
not sing a sentimental song. But if I wished to witness the only
way in which a sentimental song would "go down," I must visit his
performance that evening--reserved seats one, fifty,--and hear the
great Tacius. He drew from his pocket a handbill which was at that
moment being scattered broadcast over Middelburg. It bore the name
of this marvel, this solver of the sentimental riddle, and beneath
it three interrogation marks. The manager winked. "That," he said,
"will excite interest."

We went that evening and heard Tacius--a portly gentleman in a ball
dress and a yellow wig, who after squeaking five-sixths of a love song
in a timid falsetto which might pass for a woman's voice, roared out
the balance like a bull. He brought down the house.

Like most other Dutch towns Middelburg had its period of siege. But
there was this difference, that Middelburg was held by the Spanish and
besieged by the Dutch, whereas the custom was for the besiegers to be
Spanish and the besieged Dutch. Middelburg suffered every privation
common to invested cities, even to the trite consumption of rats
and dogs, cats and mice, Just as destruction seemed inevitable--for
the Spanish commander Mondragon swore to fire it and perish with it
rather than submit--a compromise was arranged, and he surrendered
without dishonour, the terms of the capitulation (which, however,
Spain would not allow him to carry out) being another illustration
of the wisdom and humanity of William the Silent.

Middelburg has never known a day's suffering since her siege. A
local proverb says, "Goed rond, goed Zeeuwsch"--very round, very
Zeelandish--and an old writer--so M. Havard tells us--describes
Middelburg as a "round faced city". If by round we mean not only
circular but also plump and comfortable, we have Middelburg and its
sons and daughters very happily hit off. Structurally the town is
round: the streets curve, the Abbey curves; seen from a balloon or
the summit of the church tower, the plan of the city would reveal
itself a circle. And there is a roundness also in the people. They
smile roundly, they laugh roundly, they live roundly.

The women and girls of Middelburg are more comely and winsome than any
in Holland. Their lace caps are like driven snow, their cheeks shine
like apples. But their way with their arms I cannot commend. The sleeve
of their bodice