wall. It sounds something like English gone quite
mad--and the last line, it seems to me, runs rather trippingly--and
contains something of an idea too, whatever it means:

"Al wat er is. Mijn hoop is Christus en zyn bloed.
Door deze leer ik en hoop door die het eenwig goed.
Ons leven is maar eenen dag, vol ziekten en vol naar geklag.
Vol rampen dampen (!) en vendriet. Een schim
Eien droom en anders niet."

A small steamer had advertised to leave for Antwerp about 3 o'clock. It
lay puffing and wheezing at the side of the stream, and we went on board
and settled ourselves comfortably, tired out with our wanderings. Here a
bevy of children discovered us and ranged themselves along the dyke to
watch our movements, exploding with laughter whenever we addressed one
another. Finally an oily hand appeared at the hatchway of the engine
room, followed by the touseled yellow head of a heavily bearded man. He
looked at us searchingly, then at the line of tormenting children. Then
he seized a long pole and advanced threateningly upon the phalanx. They
fled incontinently out of reach, calling out various expletives in
Flemish--of which I distinguished only one, "Koek bakker"! This would
seem to be the crowning insult to cast at a respectable engineer, for he
shook his fist at them.

To our amazement he then touched his greasy cap to us, and in the
broadest possible Scotch dialect bade us welcome. There is a saying that
one has only to knock on the companion ladder of any engine room in any
port the world over, and call out "Sandy" to bring up in response one
or two canny Scots from the engine room below. This little steamer
evidently took the place of the carrier's cart used elsewhere; for
passengers and parcels, as well as crates of vegetables were her cargo.
At length we started puffing along the river, and stopping from time to
time at small landings leading to villages whose roofs appeared above
the banks and dykes.

Delightful bits of the more intimate side of the people's life revealed
themselves to us on these unusual trips. We passed a fine looking old
peasant woman in a beautiful lace cap, rowing a boat with short powerful
strokes in company with a young girl, both keeping perfect time. The
boat was laden with green topped vegetables and brightly burnished brass
milk cans, forming a picture that was most quaint to look upon. And
later we passed a large Rhine barge, from the cabin of which came the
most appetiz