of railways in England, and exclaimed: "By Jove! I've
forgotten a tunnel!" And so, without more ado, he sent for some
workmen, and had an archway made over a cutting! Then he thought his
railway was complete!

Brussels is by far the nicest town in Belgium. It is a charming place
to live in, clean, bright, and gay. The walls which once surrounded it
were taken down many years ago, and replaced by beautiful roadways
called _boulevards_, with a broad carriage-drive in the middle, and on
each side a place for riding on, shaded by rows of trees. There is a
park, not very large, but with many trees and shady walks, and a round
pond, in the centre of which a fountain plays. At one end of this park
is the King's Palace, and at the other end the Houses of Parliament.
In the new parts of the town the streets are wide, and there are
spacious squares, with large and handsome houses. There are no end of
carriages and motor-cars driving about, people riding on horseback,
and all the bustle of a great city of pleasure.

The people of Brussels are very fond of jokes and fun. They always
seem to be in good humour with each other and with themselves. The
part of Belgium in which Brussels lies is called Brabant. In olden
times it was spoken of as "gay Brabant," and so, indeed, it might be
nowadays. Dull, pompous people are not liked there. You must be lively
and amusing, like the town itself, of which the people are so proud
that they call it the Little Paris.

Close to Brussels, on the south and west, there is a great forest--the
Forest of Soignies. The part of this forest nearest the town is called
the _Bois de la Cambre_, which is a favourite place for walking and
riding in. You reach it by a fine _boulevard_ called the Avenue
Louise. In the middle of this _Bois de la Cambre_ there is a lake with
an island, on which stands a little coffee-house, the Chalet Robinson;
so called, perhaps, after Robinson Crusoe, who lived on an island.
Belgian families often go there to spend the summer afternoons. There
are lots of pigeons on the island, so tame that they run about on the
grass, and eat out of the children's hands, while the fathers and
mothers sit drinking coffee at tables under the trees.

[Illustration: ANTWERP.]

In Belgium the fathers and mothers of the _petite bourgeoisie_, or
lower-middle class, seem always to go about on holidays with their
children. They dine at half-past twelve, and after dinner off they go,
the parents a