, or made to produce something. Think of the countless herds
of cattle it feeds, and the mountains of cheeses shipped every year to
all parts of the world, its ingenious toys, its gorgeous tulips, and the
oceans of schiedam it supplies to thirsty souls, not to speak of its
many other manufactures, which you will have the opportunity of
inspecting during your travels. Other people inhabit fertile countries
which they found ready prepared for them, we Hollanders have formed
ours; we have won it after a fierce battle of long years from the greedy
ocean, which is always endeavouring to regain the ground it has lost,
but we keep the ocean in check with our wonderful dykes, and make it
subservient to our requirements. You showed your wisdom, Mynheers, in
determining to visit it before proceeding to other parts of the world.
In my opinion, you'll not wish to go further; it contains amply
sufficient to satisfy the desire of your hearts. Ja, ja."

Captain Jan Dunck emitted a vast column of smoke, and was silent for
some minutes. He then had to take a pull at the main-sheet, for the
wind was heading the galiot; he took another and another, and his
countenance wore a less satisfactory aspect than it had done lately.
The galiot began to pitch, for the seas were getting up, while she
heeled over as much as galiots ever do, they being sturdy craft, loving
upright ways and sailing best before the wind. If the skipper looked
dissatisfied, his passengers were evidently much more so; their visages
grew longer and longer, their eyes assumed a fleshy hue, their lips
curled, and it needed no experienced physiognomist to pronounce them
unhappy; conversation ceased, they spoke only in ejaculations such as
"Oh! oh! oh! Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear!"

At last the Baron managed to say, "Ca-a-a-p-tain, i-i-i-i-sn't there a
harbour into which we can put till this storm is over?"

"Storm, do you call it," laughed the skipper. "It is only a head wind,
and we shall have to stand out to the eastward into the North Sea for a
few leagues or so, till we can fetch the Texel."

"Oh dear! oh dear! into the North Sea, did you say?" cried the Count.
"How dreadful!"

"Horrible!" exclaimed the Baron.

"Detestable!" cried the Count.

"Well, Mynheers, to please you, remember, seeing that the galiot is
likely to make as much leeway as she does headway, we will put into
Brill, a town just now on our starboard hand, a short distance up the
Maas. Hands