Netherlands
for its prominence. The newspapers gave the assurance that this empire
would pay off the national debt of the Netherlands if the people
would only put enough enthusiasm into a "Long live Princess Erika!"

The old Countess-palatine of Aetolia was descended directly from
a certain knight who treated his hostlers like princes. In this
case it was not inappropriate for a republican populace to ask for
a prolongation of her ladyship's life. The cry was: "Long live the
Countess-palatine of Aetolia!"

The Grand-duke of Ysland was the handsome grandson of a shopman. His
merits would fill three columns of fine print. The man was a master
of the type-case himself, and by exerting himself could even set up
his own name. The newspapers said that having safely passed an ocean
of pitfalls, he had now perfected himself as the brother-in-law of
a demi-god. Therefore, whoever had the interest of his country at
heart could not afford to fail to bellow at the top of his voice:
"Long live the Grand-duke of Ysland!"

There were still more potentates and ladies of quality who had honored
Amsterdam with a visit. They had heard that the city was la Venise
du Nord, that it was tres interessant, tres interessant! etc.

And the Holland herrings! Delicieux! Unfortunately the Netherlanders
didn't know how to cook them; they must be baked.

And the Holland school of painting! Rambrann--magnifique!

There were still other good things in Holland, as their highnesses
testified with patronizing kindness.

"Il parait qu'un certain Wondele a ecrit des choses, des choses--mais
des choses--passablement bien!"

And the dikes! And the Katwyk sluice--gigantesque!

Whatever spare time they might have after making cheese and cooking
herrings, the Holland people liked to devote to fighting the
elements. After skating and racing this was the favorite recreation
of the nation.

I can assure the reader that the aristocratic party took their
departure thoroughly satisfied with our country. The only person who
received quite a different impression--but I will not anticipate the
feelings of our hero. Even a writer has his duties.

The first evening everything was to be illuminated. Two hundred
and fifty thousand candles were to proclaim the enthusiasm of the
people. Two hundred and fifty thousand fiery tongues were to cry:
"Hosanna! Blessed be he who comes in the name of----" In whose
name? Hosanna for whom? For what?

Well, that was a matte