its, or
any undue preference for their predecessors, of an hour before. If the
traveller was astonished at his appetite during the first table, what
would he say to his feats at the second? As for myself, I honestly
confess I thought that some harlequin trick was concerned, and that
mine host of the "Schwein Kopf" was not a real man, but some mechanical
contrivance by which, with a trapdoor below him, a certain portion of
the dinner was conveyed to the apartments beneath. I lived, however, to
discover my error; and after four visits to Rotterdam, was at length
so far distinguished as actually to receive an invitation to pass an
evening with "Mynheer" in his own private den, which, I need scarcely
say, I gladly accepted.

I have a note of that evening some where--ay, here it is--"Mynheer is
waiting supper," said a waiter to me, as I sat smoking my cigar, one
calm evening in autumn, in the porch of the "Schwein Kopf." I followed
the man through a long passage, which, leading to the kitchen, emerged
on the opposite side, and conducted us through a little garden to a
small summer-house. The building, which was of wood, was painted
in gaudy stripes of red, blue, and yellow, and made in some sort to
resemble those Chinese pagodas, we see upon a saucer. Its situation
was conceived in the most perfect Dutch taste--one side, flanked by the
little garden of which I have spoken, displayed a rich bed of tulips and
ranunculuses, in all the gorgeous luxuriance of perfect culture--it was
a mass of blended beauty, and perfume, superior to any thing I have ever
witnessed. On the other flank, lay the sluggish, green-coated surface,
of a Dutch canal, from which rose the noxious vapours of a hot evening,
and the harsh croakings of ten thousand frogs, "fat, gorbellied knaves,"
the very burgomasters of their race, who squatted along the banks, and
who, except for the want of pipes, might have been mistaken for small
Dutchmen enjoying an evening's promenade. This building was denominated
"Lust und rust," which, in letters of gold, was displayed on something
resembling a sign-board, above the door, and intimated to the traveller,
that the temple was dedicated to pleasure, and contentment. To a
Dutchman, however, the sight of the portly figure, who sat smoking at
the open window, was a far more intelligible illustration of the objects
of the building, than any lettered inscription. Mynheer Hoogendorp, with
his long Dutch pipe, and tall flagon,