ome to
an end, and plunge the train into the water.

[Illustration: Dordrecht--Canal with Cathedral in the Distance.]

The boat turned to the left, passing in front of the bridge, and
entered a very narrow branch of the Meuse called Dordsche Kil, which
had dykes on either side, and hence looked more like a canal than a
river. It was already the seventh turn we had made since we crossed
the frontier.

Passing down the Dordsche Kil, we began to see signs of the proximity
of a large town. There were long rows of trees on the banks, bushes,
cottages, canals to the right and left, and much moving of boats and
barges. The passengers became more animated, and here and there were
heard exclamations of "Dordrecht! we shall see Dordrecht." All seemed
preparing themselves for some extraordinary scene.

The spectacle was not long delayed, and was extraordinary indeed.

The boat turned for the eighth time, to the right, and entered the
Oude Maas or Old Meuse.

In a few moments the first houses of the suburbs around Dordrecht came
into view. It was a sudden apparition of Holland, a gratification of
our curiosity immediate and complete, a revelation of all the
mysteries which were tormenting our brains: we seemed to be in a new
world.

Immense windmills with revolving arms were to be seen on every side;
houses of a thousand extraordinary shapes were dotted along the banks:
some were like villas, others like pavilions, kiosks, cottages,
chapels, theatres,--their roofs red, their walls black, blue, pink,
and gray, their doors and windows encircled with white borders like
drifts of snow. Canals little and big were leading in every direction;
in front of the houses and along the canals were groups and rows of
trees; ships glided among the cottages and boats were moored before
the doors; sails shone in the streets--masts, pennons, and the arms of
windmills projected in confusion above the trees and roofs. Bridges,
stairways, gardens on the water, a thousand corners, little docks,
creeks, openings, crossways on the canals, hiding-places for the
boats, men, women, and children passing each other on the ways from
the river to the bank, from the canals to their houses, from the
bridges to the barges,--all these made the scene one of motion and
variety. Everywhere was water,--color, new forms, childish figures,
little details, all glossy and fresh,--an ingenuous display of
prettiness--a mixture of the primitive and the theatrical, of g