meet a milk dog, he
invariably put on airs and growled as he passed him. Sometimes a milk
dog would recognize an acquaintance before another milk cart across the
street, and then how the kettles would rattle, especially if they were
empty! Each dog would give a bound and, never caring for his master's
whistle, insist upon meeting the other halfway. Sometimes they contented
themselves with an inquisitive sniff, but generally the smaller dog made
an affectionate snap snap at the larger one's ear, or a friendly tussle
was engaged in by way of exercise. Then woe to the milk kettles, and woe
to the dogs!

The whipping over, each dog, expressing his feelings as best as he
could, would trot demurely back to his work.

If some of these animals were eccentric in their ways, others were
remarkably well behaved. In fact, there was a school for dogs in the
city, established expressly for training them. Ben probably saw some of
its graduates. Many a time he noticed a span of barkers trotting along
the street with all the dignity of horses, obeying the slightest hint
of the man walking briskly beside them. Sometimes, when their load was
delivered, the dealer would jump in the cart and have a fine drive to
his home beyond the gates of the city; and sometimes, I regret to say,
a patient vrouw would trudge beside the cart with a fish basket upon her
head and a child in her arms--while her lord enjoyed his drive, carrying
no heavier burden than a stumpy clay pipe, the smoke of which mounted
lovingly into her face.

A Day of Rest

The sight-seeing came to an end at last, and so did our boys' visit
to The Hague. They had spent three happy days and nights with the Van
Gends, and, strange to say, had not once, in all that time, put on
skates. The third day had indeed been one of rest. The noise and bustle
of the city was hushed; sweet Sunday bells sent blessed, tranquil
thoughts into their hearts. Ben felt, as he listened to their familiar
music, that the Christian world is one, after all, however divided by
sects and differences it may be. As the clock speaks everyone's native
language in whatever land it may strike the hour, so church bells are
never foreign if our hearts but listen.

Led on by these clear voices, our party, with Mevrouw van Gend and her
husband, trod the quiet but crowded streets, until they came to a fine
old church in the southern part of the city.

The interior was large and, notwithstanding its great