r, still
our rather dismal impression of the little town in the drizzling rain as
we last saw it, was quite removed and replaced by a picture more to our
liking.

We were constantly finding new and unusual charms in the quaint old
towns, each seeming for some reason quainter than the preceding one.
Here on this occasion it looked so tranquil, so somnolent, that we
tarried all unwilling to lose its flavor of the unusual. There were old
weather beaten walls of ancient brick, mossy in places, and here and
there little flights of steep steps leading down into the water; broad
pathways there were too, shaded by tall trees and behind them vistas of
delightful old houses, each doubtless with its tales of joy, gayety,
pain or terror of the long ago.

The local policeman stood at a deserted street corner examining us
curiously. He was the only sign of life visible except ourselves, and
soon he, satisfied that we were only crazy foreigners with nothing else
to do but wander about, took himself off yawning, his hands clasped
behind his back, and his short sword rattling audibly in the stillness.

The atmosphere of this silent street by the river, shaded almost to a
twilight by the thick foliage, with the old houses all about us, seemed
to invite reminiscence, or dreams of the stern and respectable old
burghers and burgesses in sombre clothing, wide brimmed hats, and
stiffly starched linen ruffs about their necks as rendered by Rembrandt,
Hals, Rubens and Jordaens. They must have been veritable domestic
despots, magnates of the household, but certainly there must have been
something fine about them too, for they are most impressive in their
portraits.

"They shook the foot of Spain from their necks," and when they were not
fighting men they fought the waters. Truly the history of their
struggles is a wondrous one! None of these was in sight, however, as we
strolled the streets, but we did disturb the chat or gossip of two
delightful, apple cheeked old ladies in white caps, who became dumb with
astonishment at the sight of two foreigners who walked about gazing up
at the roofs and windows of the houses, and at the mynheer in
knickerbockers who was always looking about him and writing in a little
book.

One cannot blame them for being so dumbfounded at such actions, such
_incomprehensible_ disturbing actions in a somnolent town of long ago.
In the vestibule of the dark dim old church, I copied the following
inscription from a