o empty themselves into it. Its
banks are flanked on either side by long rows of trees, and are dotted
with houses, workshops, manufactories, and arsenals, which grow
thicker as Rotterdam is approached.

However little acquainted one may be with the physical history of
Holland, the first time one sees the Meuse and thinks of its memorable
overflowings, of the thousand calamities and innumerable victims of
that capricious and terrible river, one regards it with a sort of
uneasy curiosity, much as one looks at a famous brigand. The eye rests
on the dykes with a feeling almost of satisfaction and gratitude, as
on the brigand when he is safely handcuffed and in the hands of the
police.

While my eyes were roving in search of Rotterdam, a Dutch passenger
told how, when the Meuse is frozen, the currents, coming unexpectedly
from warmer regions, strike the ice that covers the river, break it,
upheave enormous blocks with a terrific crash, and hurl them against
the dykes, piling them in immense heaps which choke the course of the
river and make it overflow. Then begins a strange battle. The Dutch
answer the threats of the Meuse with cannonade. The artillery is
called out, volleys of grape-shot break the towers and barricades of
ice which oppose the current, into a storm of splinters and briny
hail. "We Hollanders," concluded the passenger, "are the only people
who have to take up arms against the rivers."

When we came in sight of Rotterdam it was growing dark and
drizzling. Through the thick mist I could barely see a great confusion
of ships, houses, windmills, towers, trees, and moving figures on
dykes and bridges. There were lights everywhere. It was a great city
different in appearance from any I had seen before, but fog and
darkness soon hid it from my view. By the time I had taken leave of my
fellow-travellers and had gathered my luggage together, it was night.
"So much the better," I said getting into a cab. "I shall see for the
first time a Dutch city by night; this must indeed be a novel
spectacle." In fact, Bismarck, when at Rotterdam, wrote to his wife
that at night he saw "phantoms on the roofs."

ROTTERDAM.

One cannot learn much about Rotterdam by entering it at night. The cab
passed directly over a bridge that gave out a hollow sound, and while
I believed myself to be--and, in fact, was--in the city, to my
surprise I saw on either side a row of ships which were soon lost in
the darkness. When we ha