Chapter Seven.

Chapter Seven.The Count felt about with his feet till they touched the floor of the loft into which he had scrambled. “Here I am landed at last, at all events,” he said to himself; “but this, though dry enough, is not a pleasant place in which to pass the night; and besides, my friend Stilkin will be searching for me, and be very much alarmed at not finding the vessel, or if he does find her—supposing she has not gone to the bottom—when he discovers that I have absconded. What can I do? I must try and get down into the street, and then, perhaps, I shall meet him and relieve his anxiety. I wish that I had a light, though, as I shall run the risk of tumbling down some trap-door and breaking my neck. I must move cautiously. This appears to be a lumber loft of some sort; it cannot contain valuable merchandise, or the opening through which I made an entrance would have been closed. Well, I am of opinion that this is the least pleasant of my adventures.” The Count stopped. Looking back, he observed the outline of an opening through which came a small amount of light—such light as exists at night. This assisted him to direct his course across the floor of the loft: he moved cautiously, for every moment he knocked his feet against pieces of plank, and broken chests, and casks, and heaps of old sails, and fragments of rope piled up to be turned into oakum, and broken chains, and scraps of iron, and worn-out brooms and brushes. “I suppose there is an outlet somewhere, though I cannot yet distinguish it,” he said to himself. “These things have probably been brought up from below; but suppose they have been only hoisted in through the window, I shall be imprisoned as effectually as if I had been shut in by bars and bolts, for I certainly cannot make my escape through the opening by which I entered; I should only fall into the canal. Dear me! dear me! this is unpleasant. I wish that I had stayed at home in my old castle. However, wishes are vain things. I must try to get out somehow or other.” Again he began to grope about, feeling with his hands and feet, but in spite of all efforts could discover no outlet. “Probably, after all, it will be wiser to sit down and wait till daylight,” he thought. He accordingly sat himself down on a pile of rope, but he had not sat there long before he heard strange noises, a clattering and clambering of some creatures or other, and presently two or three came bounding over his feet.“Those must be rats,” he said to himself. “I have heard of a species which comes from Norway, great savage creatures, a few dozen of which would eat up a man at a meal; if I go to sleep they may eat me up, and that will be objectionable in the highest degree. It is very clear that I must get out of this if I wish to keep a whole skin in my body. Come! arouse thee, brave Funnibos! let it not be said that the last of thy race was eaten up by rats.”He once more got up and resumed his search; as he was feeling about his hands struck against a large ring: “This perhaps is a trap-door,” he thought. Standing on one side, he pulled with all his might; it yielded, and he found that he was lifting it up.“Yes, this is a trap-door, and the means of escape presents itself, but I must take care that there is a ladder by which to descend, or I may pitch down head foremost and crack my skull.” Stooping over, he discovered to his satisfaction that there was a ladder, and he accordingly descended, holding on very tight with his hands, while he felt with his feet. At last he reached the bottom, and found himself on a lower story; the windows, however, if there were any, were closed. He was not much better off than he had been on the story above; still, having succeeded thus far, he was determined not to be defeated, and again he began to search about. The chamber appeared to have but little in it; now and then he knocked against a chest or a box, and stumbled over other articles, till suddenly he nearly fell head foremost down a stair. “This must lead somewhere, at all events,” he thought; and by a banister which he discovered on one side he began cautiously to descend, feeling with one foot before he lifted up the other. Down and down he went till he got into a passage between some stone walls. “Come, perhaps this will conduct me to the street, or to the street door, and, if it is only closed with bolts and bars, I may withdraw them and set myself free. I only hope that there may be no inhabitants who may take me for a burglar, and shoot me before I have time to explain matters. I must go cautiously, so as to make no noise.” He was going on feeling the walls on both sides, and putting one foot slowly before the other, when he observed a faint light streaming up from an opening on one side. The opening was a doorway; as he reached it the light became stronger, and he saw some stone steps leading to yet a lower story.“This seems strange,” he muttered, “I understood that the houses in Amsterdam were built on piles to keep them out of the water, and I should have supposed that a flight of steps so low as this would lead one into it; but there must be some one down there, or this bright light would not be coming up. Perhaps I had better go back to try and find my way to the street door, as I had intended, lest that somebody should consider that I am intruding; however, having got thus far, I will try and solve the mystery.” He, therefore, again descended step by step. He found himself in a small vaulted chamber, in the centre of which was a table covered with retorts, jars, glasses of all shapes and sizes, and other chemical apparatus, while at a chair was seated a tall, grey-headed old gentleman, stirring the contents of a clay bowl with a glass tube; his eyes were so intently fixed on the bowl that he did not discover the presence of a stranger. A lamp burning on the table shed the light around on the wizen countenance of the aged alchemist, on the walls of the chamber, and on the roof, from which hung suspended several iron chains, and stuffed birds and beasts and other creatures of curious form, unlike anything the Count had before seen. He stood for some time watching the proceedings of the unknown alchemist and considering what he should do; at last he gave a cough to attract attention. The old man looked up, and regarded him with a fixed stare.“Who are you, and whence do you come?” he asked in a hollow voice. “Are you a spirit from the vasty deep, or have you risen from the nether world?”“Though I am not a spirit, I have come from the vasty deep, for I am a shipwrecked traveller,” answered the Count. “In a most extraordinary manner I was landed in a loft above this building, and have found my way down here. My object at present is to get out into the street of Amsterdam, for I presume I am in that city, and to discover my friend and companion, Baron Stilkin, who had, fortunately for himself, gone on shore before the catastrophe occurred, which nearly cost me my life; and I shall be very, very much obliged to you, most reverend Seignor, if you will show me the door.”“At present I cannot on any account do that,” answered the alchemist. “It might prove the destruction of my hopes were I to leave this crucible for a moment. Know that I am on the point of making the great discovery which is the object of my life,” and the old man went on stirring as before.“What is that discovery, may I ask?” inquired the Count.“The means of converting tin into silver, and copper into gold; or rather, I may say, the discovery of the philosopher’s stone, for which the sages of past centuries have searched in vain, but which I firmly believe it has been reserved for me to find out. I shall then become the richest individual in Amsterdam, and I have resolved to employ my wealth in rebuilding the city. I purpose to lay the foundations with granite instead of wooden piles, on which it now stands; to increase the width and depth of its canals, and double their present dimensions; to erect a church in the centre which shall surpass that of Saint Peter’s or Saint Paul’s; to make the inhabitants the most wealthy and healthy, the best and most contented people on the face of the globe. These are grand designs, you will allow, most noble stranger, for I perceive you are capable of appreciating them: these are sufficient to induce a man to burn the midnight oil, to spend his days in ceaselessly labouring at his allotted task.”“Perhaps you will be good enough to make haste and discover this philosopher’s stone, and then let me out at your street door; for I am desperately hungry, and wish to find a hotel where I may obtain a supper and bed, in case I should not meet with Baron Stilkin, who landed for the express purpose of looking for one.”“Wait a few moments longer, my friend,” said the alchemist, still stirring on. “You would not surely have me throw away the labour of years to gratify your selfish object. Just step aside in the meantime into that recess, as I am not quite certain what is about to happen. There may come an explosion, such has occurred before now, and then at the bottom of this crucible I firmly believe that I shall discover the philosopher’s stone. It has never appeared yet, but, once in my possession, I shall leave this cold vault for ever, and emerge into the upper world, to commence the great undertaking I have designed. Stand aside! stand aside! at any moment there may be an explosion.”The Count at first thought that the wisest plan would be to escape up the stone steps, as he had no wish to be exposed to the effects of the expected explosion; but, curious to see the result, he stepped aside, as the old alchemist advised him, into a recess of the vault. Still the alchemist stirred on, but nothing occurred. The Count was losing patience when he heard the sound of feet descending the steps.“Here comes my familiar spirit,” muttered the alchemist; “he always does come just when I am about to make my grand discovery.”“He treads very heavily for a spirit!” thought the Count.At that moment a remarkable and unattractive-looking person came into the light of the lamp; he was a short, thick-set man, with a huge head, almost a dwarf, dressed in a long coat and high boots, carrying in his hand a kettle.The alchemist as he saw him started up. “Why have you come? Why hast thou come, thou enemy of science? thou who, night after night, hast prevented me from making the grand discovery, the aim of my existence, thou disturber of my studies, thou foe of the human race!”“You know well enough, Mynheer Bosch, that what you say is all nonsense, and that I will not allow you to abuse me in this fashion,” exclaimed the dwarf, lifting up the kettle as if he were about to throw it at the philosopher’s head. “Come along, and leave your old bottles and jars; it is high time that you were in bed, and my business is to see you safe there, and to lock you up till to-morrow morning.”“But I have a visitor,” said the philosopher, calming down, and looking perfectly resigned to hisfate. “A visitor who may become my pupil, and aid me in making my grand discovery, which has, through your interference, been so long delayed.”“Any one who desires to become your pupil must be a remarkably silly fellow,” observed the dwarf. “If he is there, let him show himself. Come out, whoever you are, and I’ll know how you ventured into this house without leave.”The Count, on hearing this, stepped forth from his hiding-place. “Honest man, pray understand, in the first place, that I have no desire to become the pupil of this philosophical gentleman, that I most unintentionally entered the house, and shall be extremely obliged to you if you will let me out as soon as possible,” he said; and he briefly explained how he had happened to get into the loft.“That being the case, as soon as I have secured this poor old man for the night, I will show you out into the street,” answered the dwarf; and taking hold of the lamp with one hand and with the other grasping the arm of the philosopher, who moved on as meekly as a lamb, he led the way up the steps, the Count following close behind. After proceeding along several passages he reached a door, when, producing a key from his pocket, he opened it.“Go in,” he said to the philosopher, “and wait till I come back.” The latter obeyed, and the dwarf locked him in.“Now, Mynheer,” he said, “having disposed of that poor old fellow for the present, I will show you the way out into the street; but take care you do not fall into the canal. You will not find any hotel in this part of the town fit for a gentleman of your rank; but if you go on straight before you and then turn to the right, then to the left, then to the right again, you may possibly meet with your friend whom you desire to find; if not, a watchman will take charge of you, should he not lock you up, and will help you to find an hotel.”This was not altogether satisfactory, for the Count doubted very much whether he should be able to follow the directions he had received; but he wanted to get into the open air, and he hoped that he should somehow or other find his way. He was not in the best possible mood, and had little expectation of finding the Baron; he was desperately hungry, and was afraid that his portmanteau was lost, which would certainly be the case if the sloop had gone to the bottom. However, finding himself in the open air, he went along what appeared to be a narrow road, with houses on one side and a canal on the other. The odour which rose from the latter in the night air was far from pleasant, but he soon got accustomed to it. He was inclined to shout out the Baron’s name as he went along, but it occurred to him that some of the watchers of the night might accuse him of being a disorderly person, and carry him off to prison, though whenever he saw anyone approaching he asked in a subdued tone, “Is that you, Baron Stilkin?” But no one acknowledged himself to be the Baron. Thus the Count went on, no one impeding his progress. According to the dwarfs advice, he did turn to the left and then to the right, then to the left again, and turned several times, till he forgot how many times he had turned or where he was. For a long time he met no one of whom to inquire the way. At last he heard footsteps approaching. “Is that you. Baron Stilkin?” he asked, as he had done before.“What, whose voice is that?” exclaimed some one.The Count, hoping that it was the Baron, replied, “Count Funnibos.”“What, my dear Count, is it you yourself?” exclaimed Baron Stilkin, for he it was, and, rushing into each other’s arms, they wept, overcome by their feelings. The Count narrated the extraordinary adventures he had met with.“And what about our portmanteaus and umbrellas? what will become of them?” exclaimed the Baron.“They are on board the sloop, and, for what I can tell, at the bottom of the Zuyder Zee,” said the Count.“We must endeavour to regain them forthwith if they are afloat, or fish them up if they are at the bottom,” said the Baron. “Come along. I left the sober sailor waiting for me. We may possibly find him, and at once put off in search of our property.”“But I should prefer having some supper first,” exclaimed the Count. “I am well-nigh starving.”“Never mind, my dear Count,” said the Baron, “I have eaten enough for two, and there’s no time to be lost. It is of the greatest importance that we should forthwith recover our portmanteaus and umbrellas. Why, we have all the money in them, and our note-books and journals.”“And my ties and tooth-brush,” put in the Count. “Of course, of course. I will still the cravings of my appetite and sacrifice my feelings for the common weal.”“Eight, right; a noble principle,” said the Baron. “I shall be able to enjoy a second supper with you when we return.” And the Baron acting as guide, they set off for the quay where, to the best of his belief, he had left the sober sailor. Wonderful to relate, the sober sailor was there, waiting patiently, smoking his pipe with his arms folded, a picture of resignation. As far as could be perceived in the gloom of night, he did not appear to be much surprised at hearing of the accident which had befallen the sloop.“Cheer up, Mynheers, we will find her,” he said. “She’s not likely to have got far. There’s a bit of a current round that point, but after that the tide runs slowly, and she will have been brought up by some other vessel across which she’s been driven, or is still floating slowly out towards the Zuyder Zee.” Saying this, he bent to his oars and pulled away down the canal. The lights glittered from the upper windows of many houses, showing that the inhabitants were not yet in bed, and the tall masts of numerous vessels towered up towards the sky, with yards across seen indistinctly in the gloom of night. The moon shone forth and shed her pale light on the smooth surface of the water, which looked bright and silvery, very different to the hue it is apt to wear in the daytime.“If I were not so hungry and so anxious about our portmanteaus and umbrellas I should enjoy this,” observed the Count.“I do enjoy it,” said the Baron, stroking his waistcoat. “As to our portmanteaus and umbrellas, my mind is greatly relieved by the assurances of our friend the sober sailor here.”“I hope you are so with sufficient reason,” observed the Count, who was in low spirits, as people often are when they are hungry.“I told you so, I told you so; there’s the sloop,” shouted the Baron. “I am right, am I not, friend mariner?”“Ja, ja, that’s she,” answered the sober sailor, pulling towards the sloop, which was, as he had asserted would be the case, floating leisurely along, like a snail on a garden path. He soon pulled up alongside, when the Count and the Baron scrambled on board. The tipsy skipper and his tipsy crew were still both fast asleep in their respective bunks.“Now I consider that it would be right and proper to let them float on after we have recovered our portmanteaus and umbrellas,” said the Baron.“It would be more kind and charitable to anchor the sloop, or to take her alongside the nearest vessel we can reach,” said the Count. “What do you say, worthy mariner?”“We cannot anchor her, because my messmate slipped her cable and left the anchor in the canal,” answered the sober sailor. “But we will tow her alongside another vessel and make her fast, where she will remain safe enough till I have conveyed you, Mynheers, and your luggage to the shore. We sailors make it a point of honour to look after our shipmates when they get overtaken by too abundant potations of schiedam or any other liquor.”“But you do not mean to say that you ever get overtaken?” asked the Count.“Not unless it is my turn to enjoy that pleasure,” answered the sober sailor. “It was my turn to-night to keep sober, as it would never do for the whole crew to get drunk together.” Having said this, the sober sailor stepped into the boat, and towed the sloop up to a vessel which lay conveniently near. Having secured her, and informed her skipper and crew of the condition of his skipper and crew, he pulled away up to the landing-place, carrying the Count and Baron, with their portmanteaus and umbrellas. They were not long, after landing, in finding a hotel, on enteringwhich the first words the Baron uttered were, “Supper for two.”“I thought that you had supped,” remarked the Count.“My dear Count, do you think I should be so uncourteous as not to eat a second to keep you company?” said the Baron, smiling blandly. They, were soon seated at table, and the Baron did ample justice to his second supper.

The Count felt about with his feet till they touched the floor of the loft into which he had scrambled. “Here I am landed at last, at all events,” he said to himself; “but this, though dry enough, is not a pleasant place in which to pass the night; and besides, my friend Stilkin will be searching for me, and be very much alarmed at not finding the vessel, or if he does find her—supposing she has not gone to the bottom—when he discovers that I have absconded. What can I do? I must try and get down into the street, and then, perhaps, I shall meet him and relieve his anxiety. I wish that I had a light, though, as I shall run the risk of tumbling down some trap-door and breaking my neck. I must move cautiously. This appears to be a lumber loft of some sort; it cannot contain valuable merchandise, or the opening through which I made an entrance would have been closed. Well, I am of opinion that this is the least pleasant of my adventures.” The Count stopped. Looking back, he observed the outline of an opening through which came a small amount of light—such light as exists at night. This assisted him to direct his course across the floor of the loft: he moved cautiously, for every moment he knocked his feet against pieces of plank, and broken chests, and casks, and heaps of old sails, and fragments of rope piled up to be turned into oakum, and broken chains, and scraps of iron, and worn-out brooms and brushes. “I suppose there is an outlet somewhere, though I cannot yet distinguish it,” he said to himself. “These things have probably been brought up from below; but suppose they have been only hoisted in through the window, I shall be imprisoned as effectually as if I had been shut in by bars and bolts, for I certainly cannot make my escape through the opening by which I entered; I should only fall into the canal. Dear me! dear me! this is unpleasant. I wish that I had stayed at home in my old castle. However, wishes are vain things. I must try to get out somehow or other.” Again he began to grope about, feeling with his hands and feet, but in spite of all efforts could discover no outlet. “Probably, after all, it will be wiser to sit down and wait till daylight,” he thought. He accordingly sat himself down on a pile of rope, but he had not sat there long before he heard strange noises, a clattering and clambering of some creatures or other, and presently two or three came bounding over his feet.

“Those must be rats,” he said to himself. “I have heard of a species which comes from Norway, great savage creatures, a few dozen of which would eat up a man at a meal; if I go to sleep they may eat me up, and that will be objectionable in the highest degree. It is very clear that I must get out of this if I wish to keep a whole skin in my body. Come! arouse thee, brave Funnibos! let it not be said that the last of thy race was eaten up by rats.”

He once more got up and resumed his search; as he was feeling about his hands struck against a large ring: “This perhaps is a trap-door,” he thought. Standing on one side, he pulled with all his might; it yielded, and he found that he was lifting it up.

“Yes, this is a trap-door, and the means of escape presents itself, but I must take care that there is a ladder by which to descend, or I may pitch down head foremost and crack my skull.” Stooping over, he discovered to his satisfaction that there was a ladder, and he accordingly descended, holding on very tight with his hands, while he felt with his feet. At last he reached the bottom, and found himself on a lower story; the windows, however, if there were any, were closed. He was not much better off than he had been on the story above; still, having succeeded thus far, he was determined not to be defeated, and again he began to search about. The chamber appeared to have but little in it; now and then he knocked against a chest or a box, and stumbled over other articles, till suddenly he nearly fell head foremost down a stair. “This must lead somewhere, at all events,” he thought; and by a banister which he discovered on one side he began cautiously to descend, feeling with one foot before he lifted up the other. Down and down he went till he got into a passage between some stone walls. “Come, perhaps this will conduct me to the street, or to the street door, and, if it is only closed with bolts and bars, I may withdraw them and set myself free. I only hope that there may be no inhabitants who may take me for a burglar, and shoot me before I have time to explain matters. I must go cautiously, so as to make no noise.” He was going on feeling the walls on both sides, and putting one foot slowly before the other, when he observed a faint light streaming up from an opening on one side. The opening was a doorway; as he reached it the light became stronger, and he saw some stone steps leading to yet a lower story.

“This seems strange,” he muttered, “I understood that the houses in Amsterdam were built on piles to keep them out of the water, and I should have supposed that a flight of steps so low as this would lead one into it; but there must be some one down there, or this bright light would not be coming up. Perhaps I had better go back to try and find my way to the street door, as I had intended, lest that somebody should consider that I am intruding; however, having got thus far, I will try and solve the mystery.” He, therefore, again descended step by step. He found himself in a small vaulted chamber, in the centre of which was a table covered with retorts, jars, glasses of all shapes and sizes, and other chemical apparatus, while at a chair was seated a tall, grey-headed old gentleman, stirring the contents of a clay bowl with a glass tube; his eyes were so intently fixed on the bowl that he did not discover the presence of a stranger. A lamp burning on the table shed the light around on the wizen countenance of the aged alchemist, on the walls of the chamber, and on the roof, from which hung suspended several iron chains, and stuffed birds and beasts and other creatures of curious form, unlike anything the Count had before seen. He stood for some time watching the proceedings of the unknown alchemist and considering what he should do; at last he gave a cough to attract attention. The old man looked up, and regarded him with a fixed stare.

“Who are you, and whence do you come?” he asked in a hollow voice. “Are you a spirit from the vasty deep, or have you risen from the nether world?”

“Though I am not a spirit, I have come from the vasty deep, for I am a shipwrecked traveller,” answered the Count. “In a most extraordinary manner I was landed in a loft above this building, and have found my way down here. My object at present is to get out into the street of Amsterdam, for I presume I am in that city, and to discover my friend and companion, Baron Stilkin, who had, fortunately for himself, gone on shore before the catastrophe occurred, which nearly cost me my life; and I shall be very, very much obliged to you, most reverend Seignor, if you will show me the door.”

“At present I cannot on any account do that,” answered the alchemist. “It might prove the destruction of my hopes were I to leave this crucible for a moment. Know that I am on the point of making the great discovery which is the object of my life,” and the old man went on stirring as before.

“What is that discovery, may I ask?” inquired the Count.

“The means of converting tin into silver, and copper into gold; or rather, I may say, the discovery of the philosopher’s stone, for which the sages of past centuries have searched in vain, but which I firmly believe it has been reserved for me to find out. I shall then become the richest individual in Amsterdam, and I have resolved to employ my wealth in rebuilding the city. I purpose to lay the foundations with granite instead of wooden piles, on which it now stands; to increase the width and depth of its canals, and double their present dimensions; to erect a church in the centre which shall surpass that of Saint Peter’s or Saint Paul’s; to make the inhabitants the most wealthy and healthy, the best and most contented people on the face of the globe. These are grand designs, you will allow, most noble stranger, for I perceive you are capable of appreciating them: these are sufficient to induce a man to burn the midnight oil, to spend his days in ceaselessly labouring at his allotted task.”

“Perhaps you will be good enough to make haste and discover this philosopher’s stone, and then let me out at your street door; for I am desperately hungry, and wish to find a hotel where I may obtain a supper and bed, in case I should not meet with Baron Stilkin, who landed for the express purpose of looking for one.”

“Wait a few moments longer, my friend,” said the alchemist, still stirring on. “You would not surely have me throw away the labour of years to gratify your selfish object. Just step aside in the meantime into that recess, as I am not quite certain what is about to happen. There may come an explosion, such has occurred before now, and then at the bottom of this crucible I firmly believe that I shall discover the philosopher’s stone. It has never appeared yet, but, once in my possession, I shall leave this cold vault for ever, and emerge into the upper world, to commence the great undertaking I have designed. Stand aside! stand aside! at any moment there may be an explosion.”

The Count at first thought that the wisest plan would be to escape up the stone steps, as he had no wish to be exposed to the effects of the expected explosion; but, curious to see the result, he stepped aside, as the old alchemist advised him, into a recess of the vault. Still the alchemist stirred on, but nothing occurred. The Count was losing patience when he heard the sound of feet descending the steps.

“Here comes my familiar spirit,” muttered the alchemist; “he always does come just when I am about to make my grand discovery.”

“He treads very heavily for a spirit!” thought the Count.

At that moment a remarkable and unattractive-looking person came into the light of the lamp; he was a short, thick-set man, with a huge head, almost a dwarf, dressed in a long coat and high boots, carrying in his hand a kettle.

The alchemist as he saw him started up. “Why have you come? Why hast thou come, thou enemy of science? thou who, night after night, hast prevented me from making the grand discovery, the aim of my existence, thou disturber of my studies, thou foe of the human race!”

“You know well enough, Mynheer Bosch, that what you say is all nonsense, and that I will not allow you to abuse me in this fashion,” exclaimed the dwarf, lifting up the kettle as if he were about to throw it at the philosopher’s head. “Come along, and leave your old bottles and jars; it is high time that you were in bed, and my business is to see you safe there, and to lock you up till to-morrow morning.”

“But I have a visitor,” said the philosopher, calming down, and looking perfectly resigned to hisfate. “A visitor who may become my pupil, and aid me in making my grand discovery, which has, through your interference, been so long delayed.”

“Any one who desires to become your pupil must be a remarkably silly fellow,” observed the dwarf. “If he is there, let him show himself. Come out, whoever you are, and I’ll know how you ventured into this house without leave.”

The Count, on hearing this, stepped forth from his hiding-place. “Honest man, pray understand, in the first place, that I have no desire to become the pupil of this philosophical gentleman, that I most unintentionally entered the house, and shall be extremely obliged to you if you will let me out as soon as possible,” he said; and he briefly explained how he had happened to get into the loft.

“That being the case, as soon as I have secured this poor old man for the night, I will show you out into the street,” answered the dwarf; and taking hold of the lamp with one hand and with the other grasping the arm of the philosopher, who moved on as meekly as a lamb, he led the way up the steps, the Count following close behind. After proceeding along several passages he reached a door, when, producing a key from his pocket, he opened it.

“Go in,” he said to the philosopher, “and wait till I come back.” The latter obeyed, and the dwarf locked him in.

“Now, Mynheer,” he said, “having disposed of that poor old fellow for the present, I will show you the way out into the street; but take care you do not fall into the canal. You will not find any hotel in this part of the town fit for a gentleman of your rank; but if you go on straight before you and then turn to the right, then to the left, then to the right again, you may possibly meet with your friend whom you desire to find; if not, a watchman will take charge of you, should he not lock you up, and will help you to find an hotel.”

This was not altogether satisfactory, for the Count doubted very much whether he should be able to follow the directions he had received; but he wanted to get into the open air, and he hoped that he should somehow or other find his way. He was not in the best possible mood, and had little expectation of finding the Baron; he was desperately hungry, and was afraid that his portmanteau was lost, which would certainly be the case if the sloop had gone to the bottom. However, finding himself in the open air, he went along what appeared to be a narrow road, with houses on one side and a canal on the other. The odour which rose from the latter in the night air was far from pleasant, but he soon got accustomed to it. He was inclined to shout out the Baron’s name as he went along, but it occurred to him that some of the watchers of the night might accuse him of being a disorderly person, and carry him off to prison, though whenever he saw anyone approaching he asked in a subdued tone, “Is that you, Baron Stilkin?” But no one acknowledged himself to be the Baron. Thus the Count went on, no one impeding his progress. According to the dwarfs advice, he did turn to the left and then to the right, then to the left again, and turned several times, till he forgot how many times he had turned or where he was. For a long time he met no one of whom to inquire the way. At last he heard footsteps approaching. “Is that you. Baron Stilkin?” he asked, as he had done before.

“What, whose voice is that?” exclaimed some one.

The Count, hoping that it was the Baron, replied, “Count Funnibos.”

“What, my dear Count, is it you yourself?” exclaimed Baron Stilkin, for he it was, and, rushing into each other’s arms, they wept, overcome by their feelings. The Count narrated the extraordinary adventures he had met with.

“And what about our portmanteaus and umbrellas? what will become of them?” exclaimed the Baron.

“They are on board the sloop, and, for what I can tell, at the bottom of the Zuyder Zee,” said the Count.

“We must endeavour to regain them forthwith if they are afloat, or fish them up if they are at the bottom,” said the Baron. “Come along. I left the sober sailor waiting for me. We may possibly find him, and at once put off in search of our property.”

“But I should prefer having some supper first,” exclaimed the Count. “I am well-nigh starving.”

“Never mind, my dear Count,” said the Baron, “I have eaten enough for two, and there’s no time to be lost. It is of the greatest importance that we should forthwith recover our portmanteaus and umbrellas. Why, we have all the money in them, and our note-books and journals.”

“And my ties and tooth-brush,” put in the Count. “Of course, of course. I will still the cravings of my appetite and sacrifice my feelings for the common weal.”

“Eight, right; a noble principle,” said the Baron. “I shall be able to enjoy a second supper with you when we return.” And the Baron acting as guide, they set off for the quay where, to the best of his belief, he had left the sober sailor. Wonderful to relate, the sober sailor was there, waiting patiently, smoking his pipe with his arms folded, a picture of resignation. As far as could be perceived in the gloom of night, he did not appear to be much surprised at hearing of the accident which had befallen the sloop.

“Cheer up, Mynheers, we will find her,” he said. “She’s not likely to have got far. There’s a bit of a current round that point, but after that the tide runs slowly, and she will have been brought up by some other vessel across which she’s been driven, or is still floating slowly out towards the Zuyder Zee.” Saying this, he bent to his oars and pulled away down the canal. The lights glittered from the upper windows of many houses, showing that the inhabitants were not yet in bed, and the tall masts of numerous vessels towered up towards the sky, with yards across seen indistinctly in the gloom of night. The moon shone forth and shed her pale light on the smooth surface of the water, which looked bright and silvery, very different to the hue it is apt to wear in the daytime.

“If I were not so hungry and so anxious about our portmanteaus and umbrellas I should enjoy this,” observed the Count.

“I do enjoy it,” said the Baron, stroking his waistcoat. “As to our portmanteaus and umbrellas, my mind is greatly relieved by the assurances of our friend the sober sailor here.”

“I hope you are so with sufficient reason,” observed the Count, who was in low spirits, as people often are when they are hungry.

“I told you so, I told you so; there’s the sloop,” shouted the Baron. “I am right, am I not, friend mariner?”

“Ja, ja, that’s she,” answered the sober sailor, pulling towards the sloop, which was, as he had asserted would be the case, floating leisurely along, like a snail on a garden path. He soon pulled up alongside, when the Count and the Baron scrambled on board. The tipsy skipper and his tipsy crew were still both fast asleep in their respective bunks.

“Now I consider that it would be right and proper to let them float on after we have recovered our portmanteaus and umbrellas,” said the Baron.

“It would be more kind and charitable to anchor the sloop, or to take her alongside the nearest vessel we can reach,” said the Count. “What do you say, worthy mariner?”

“We cannot anchor her, because my messmate slipped her cable and left the anchor in the canal,” answered the sober sailor. “But we will tow her alongside another vessel and make her fast, where she will remain safe enough till I have conveyed you, Mynheers, and your luggage to the shore. We sailors make it a point of honour to look after our shipmates when they get overtaken by too abundant potations of schiedam or any other liquor.”

“But you do not mean to say that you ever get overtaken?” asked the Count.

“Not unless it is my turn to enjoy that pleasure,” answered the sober sailor. “It was my turn to-night to keep sober, as it would never do for the whole crew to get drunk together.” Having said this, the sober sailor stepped into the boat, and towed the sloop up to a vessel which lay conveniently near. Having secured her, and informed her skipper and crew of the condition of his skipper and crew, he pulled away up to the landing-place, carrying the Count and Baron, with their portmanteaus and umbrellas. They were not long, after landing, in finding a hotel, on enteringwhich the first words the Baron uttered were, “Supper for two.”

“I thought that you had supped,” remarked the Count.

“My dear Count, do you think I should be so uncourteous as not to eat a second to keep you company?” said the Baron, smiling blandly. They, were soon seated at table, and the Baron did ample justice to his second supper.

Chapter Eight.“Then here we are in Amsterdam,” said the Count to the Baron, as they sauntered out of their hotel after breakfast. “I wonder whether all these people have come to do us honour on hearing of our arrival.”“They probably have not heard of our arrival,” said the Baron. “They are, as you will perceive, market people, and others who have come in these boats surrounding the landing-slips;” and he pointed across the crowd which thronged the quay to the canal, on which boats of various sizes were coming and going, mostly laden with cheeses and other merchandise to supply the city of Amsterdam.“Ah, yes; you are probably correct,” remarkedthe Count. “Now let us set forth and inspect this great city.”A guide, who had noticed them leaving the hotel, offered his services to conduct them through the streets, and to give them the information which as strangers they would naturally require.“Thank you,” said the Baron, who, thinking him a very polite gentleman, made him a bow. “We accept your services.”“Come then, Mynheers, come then,” said the guide; “with me as your conductor, you will see more of the city in a few hours than you would by yourselves in as many days. You will understand that Amsterdam is the largest town in Holland,” he commenced. “It is built in the shape of a crescent, or horse-shoe, and is situated at the influx of the Amstel into the Y; the latter, though it is called a river, is in reality an arm of the Zuyder Zee, and forms our harbour; hence the name of Amsterdam—the dam of the Amstel, or Amster. Now I will lead you to the docks, close to which we now are—they are capable of accommodating a thousand vessels; the locks, you will observe, are of enormous strength, which it is necessary they should be, so as to resist the inroads of the sea. We take great precautions to keep it out, and with good reason, for our streets are much below its level, and were it to break in they would be completely flooded. Our city is nine miles in circumference, while canals of various sizes intersect it in every direction, and divide it into ninety islands, which are connected by means of nearly three hundred bridges. A broad moat, or canal, also runs almost completely round it, a portion of which is flanked with avenues of elms, which have a handsome and picturesque appearance. Our houses are constructed on foundations of piles, and as some of these give way, either destroyed by worms or becoming rotten by age, the houses are apt to lean about in various directions, which artists say look very picturesque, but are not so pleasant to the inhabitants, who, however, live on in them, hoping that, as they have been in that condition for some years, they will not tumble down just yet. Now and then they do come down, but people get accustomed to that sort of thing. Many years ago our great corn magazine sank into the mud, the piles on which it stood being unable to support the weight of three thousand five hundred tons of grain, which were stored in the building at that time. You will observe the style of the houses, many of them built of Dutch brickwork, which foreigners justly admire. Our canals are not quite as deep as they should be, although we have dredging machines constantly engaged in removing the mud, which is thus apt to be stirred about in an unpleasant manner as every barge comes up, and strangers declare that an excessively offensive odour rises from them, especially on hot days; but we who live here are not inconvenienced, in fact we rather doubt the statement; there may be a smell, but it surely cannot be an unpleasant one.”“As to that,” answered the Count, holding his pocket-handkerchief to his nose, “it must depend upon what people consider unpleasant; for my part, I prefer the scent of orange blossoms or eau de Cologne to it.”The guide, who seemed anxious to fulfil his promise of enabling them to see the city in a brief period of time, trotted them along the quays at a rapid rate, pointing out to them the great dyke which prevents the Zuyder Zee from washing into the town; then he conducted them up one street and down another, over bridges and along banks of canals innumerable, till they had not the slightest idea of where they were going or what they were seeing. He poured out his information also at so rapid a rate that the Count could with difficulty make the shortest notes. Museums and picture galleries of various sorts were pointed out to them.“You will be able to see those by and by,” observed the guide; “at present my object is to exhibit to you the outside of the city.”The whole day was expended in viewing the city, and even then a large portion remained to be seen, which they flattered themselves they should do on another occasion. They then, pretty well tired, returned to their hotel.“Now, Count, in what direction shall we next bend our steps?” asked the Baron. “If we were at sea the wind might settle that point, but on shore the matter is more complicated.”“Come with me, Mynheers, to Zaandam,” said a gentleman, who was seated opposite to them at table and heard the Baron’s question.“I suppose there’s something to be seen there?” the Baron asked.“Certainly there is something to be seen,” said the gentleman. “There’s the house of Peter the Great, who lived there while he was working as a shipwright, and there are windmills.”“There are a good many windmills in other parts of Holland,” observed the Count.“But the windmills of Zaandam beat them all hollow,” answered the gentleman. “There are no fewer than four hundred in and about Zaandam, employed in all sorts of labour: some grind corn, some saw timber, others crush rape-seed, while others again drain the land, or reduce stones to powder, or chop tobacco into snuff, or grind colours for the painter. Those of Zaandam are of all shapes and descriptions, and many of them are of an immense size—the largest in the world.”“We will go to Zaandam,” said the Count; andthe next morning he and the Baron accompanied their new friend, whom they took care to ascertain was not a professional guide, down to the quay, whence a steamboat was about to start to their intended destination.In little more than an hour having crossed the waters of the Y, they landed at Zaandam. They were not disappointed with respect to the windmills, which, as there was a fair breeze, seemed to be all very busy, the sails whirling round and round and doing their duty with all earnestness, as duty ought to be done. When the wind slackened it was not their fault if they did not go as fast. They could distinguish the flour mills, which generally had a balcony running round half-way up; but the draining mills were smaller, and had no balcony. Zaandam, however, did not look like a town, it more resembled a straggling village; the houses—small, painted a bright green, with red roofs—peeping out on the banks of the river amid the trees in all directions.Suddenly the Count began whirling his arms about in a way which made the Baron fancy he had gone mad.“What is the matter?” he exclaimed.“I cannot help it,” answered the Count, still looking up at the windmills. “How they go round and round and round in all directions; it is enough to turn one into a windmill. I feel inclined already to become one.”“Don’t, don’t!” cried the Baron, seizing his friend’s arms and holding them down. “Don’t look at those whirlabout sails, but come let us go and see the house of Peter the Great, which was the chief object of our visit to this place.”“Peter the Great, ah, I have heard of him; how long did he live here?” asked the Count.“Not very long,” said their friend. “Zaandam was in those days a great ship-building place, and he came here to instruct himself in the art; but the people found out who he was, and shocked his modesty by staring him out of countenance, so he went away to Amsterdam, where among the crowd he was less likely to be discovered.”Proceeding along a canal bordered by a few dilapidated houses, they arrived before a zinc building, which has been erected to cover the hut in which Peter the Great lived. An ancient individual, who had charge of it, admitted them within the outside covering.“Peter of Russia was a great man, there’s no doubt about that,” observed the Baron. “But from the appearance of this edifice he must have been contented with a very inferior style of accommodation; for there appear to be but two small rooms, and every plank of the walls is out of the perpendicular, and every beam far off the horizontal, while the floors resemble the surface of a troubled sea.”The hut was constructed of wood, old planks nailed roughly together, some running in one direction, some in another. As the travellers entered they rolled about as if they had suddenly become giddy. The furniture too was limited; it consisted of a couple of curiously shaped old chairs, a table and a bedstead of antique form and simple construction. The walls were adorned with portraits of Peter the Great and his wife, who certainly, judging by her picture, was no beauty.“I observe that a number of persons of celebrity have carved their names on the walls; I think we ought to do the same, to let it be known to all the world, who come after us, that we have been here,” said the Baron, taking out his penknife. “Here are some names, great persons undoubtedly, and, as far as I can judge, English; let me see, one is Jones, the other is Smith, and a third Brown—we will add ours.”“Have the kindness to put mine, then,” said the Count. “I should wish to appear in such excellent company, but carving on wood is not one of my talents.”The Baron accordingly with the tip of his penknife wrote, or rather carved, “Count Funnibos and Baron Stilkin,” putting the date of their visit. Well satisfied with his performance, he took another glance round the room, about which the Count had been staggering, looking at the various corners and crevices, as if he expected to find the Great Peter in one of them, sawing or planing, or perhaps supping off a bowl of porridge. The ancient keeper informed them that the building was erected by a former Queen of Holland—a Princess of Russia—to prevent this relic of her ancestor being swept off the face of the earth. On one of the walls was a marble tablet, placed there by the Emperor Alexander to commemorate a visit he paid to the hut, which showed to the Count and Baron that another great person had been there before them.

“Then here we are in Amsterdam,” said the Count to the Baron, as they sauntered out of their hotel after breakfast. “I wonder whether all these people have come to do us honour on hearing of our arrival.”

“They probably have not heard of our arrival,” said the Baron. “They are, as you will perceive, market people, and others who have come in these boats surrounding the landing-slips;” and he pointed across the crowd which thronged the quay to the canal, on which boats of various sizes were coming and going, mostly laden with cheeses and other merchandise to supply the city of Amsterdam.

“Ah, yes; you are probably correct,” remarkedthe Count. “Now let us set forth and inspect this great city.”

A guide, who had noticed them leaving the hotel, offered his services to conduct them through the streets, and to give them the information which as strangers they would naturally require.

“Thank you,” said the Baron, who, thinking him a very polite gentleman, made him a bow. “We accept your services.”

“Come then, Mynheers, come then,” said the guide; “with me as your conductor, you will see more of the city in a few hours than you would by yourselves in as many days. You will understand that Amsterdam is the largest town in Holland,” he commenced. “It is built in the shape of a crescent, or horse-shoe, and is situated at the influx of the Amstel into the Y; the latter, though it is called a river, is in reality an arm of the Zuyder Zee, and forms our harbour; hence the name of Amsterdam—the dam of the Amstel, or Amster. Now I will lead you to the docks, close to which we now are—they are capable of accommodating a thousand vessels; the locks, you will observe, are of enormous strength, which it is necessary they should be, so as to resist the inroads of the sea. We take great precautions to keep it out, and with good reason, for our streets are much below its level, and were it to break in they would be completely flooded. Our city is nine miles in circumference, while canals of various sizes intersect it in every direction, and divide it into ninety islands, which are connected by means of nearly three hundred bridges. A broad moat, or canal, also runs almost completely round it, a portion of which is flanked with avenues of elms, which have a handsome and picturesque appearance. Our houses are constructed on foundations of piles, and as some of these give way, either destroyed by worms or becoming rotten by age, the houses are apt to lean about in various directions, which artists say look very picturesque, but are not so pleasant to the inhabitants, who, however, live on in them, hoping that, as they have been in that condition for some years, they will not tumble down just yet. Now and then they do come down, but people get accustomed to that sort of thing. Many years ago our great corn magazine sank into the mud, the piles on which it stood being unable to support the weight of three thousand five hundred tons of grain, which were stored in the building at that time. You will observe the style of the houses, many of them built of Dutch brickwork, which foreigners justly admire. Our canals are not quite as deep as they should be, although we have dredging machines constantly engaged in removing the mud, which is thus apt to be stirred about in an unpleasant manner as every barge comes up, and strangers declare that an excessively offensive odour rises from them, especially on hot days; but we who live here are not inconvenienced, in fact we rather doubt the statement; there may be a smell, but it surely cannot be an unpleasant one.”

“As to that,” answered the Count, holding his pocket-handkerchief to his nose, “it must depend upon what people consider unpleasant; for my part, I prefer the scent of orange blossoms or eau de Cologne to it.”

The guide, who seemed anxious to fulfil his promise of enabling them to see the city in a brief period of time, trotted them along the quays at a rapid rate, pointing out to them the great dyke which prevents the Zuyder Zee from washing into the town; then he conducted them up one street and down another, over bridges and along banks of canals innumerable, till they had not the slightest idea of where they were going or what they were seeing. He poured out his information also at so rapid a rate that the Count could with difficulty make the shortest notes. Museums and picture galleries of various sorts were pointed out to them.

“You will be able to see those by and by,” observed the guide; “at present my object is to exhibit to you the outside of the city.”

The whole day was expended in viewing the city, and even then a large portion remained to be seen, which they flattered themselves they should do on another occasion. They then, pretty well tired, returned to their hotel.

“Now, Count, in what direction shall we next bend our steps?” asked the Baron. “If we were at sea the wind might settle that point, but on shore the matter is more complicated.”

“Come with me, Mynheers, to Zaandam,” said a gentleman, who was seated opposite to them at table and heard the Baron’s question.

“I suppose there’s something to be seen there?” the Baron asked.

“Certainly there is something to be seen,” said the gentleman. “There’s the house of Peter the Great, who lived there while he was working as a shipwright, and there are windmills.”

“There are a good many windmills in other parts of Holland,” observed the Count.

“But the windmills of Zaandam beat them all hollow,” answered the gentleman. “There are no fewer than four hundred in and about Zaandam, employed in all sorts of labour: some grind corn, some saw timber, others crush rape-seed, while others again drain the land, or reduce stones to powder, or chop tobacco into snuff, or grind colours for the painter. Those of Zaandam are of all shapes and descriptions, and many of them are of an immense size—the largest in the world.”

“We will go to Zaandam,” said the Count; andthe next morning he and the Baron accompanied their new friend, whom they took care to ascertain was not a professional guide, down to the quay, whence a steamboat was about to start to their intended destination.

In little more than an hour having crossed the waters of the Y, they landed at Zaandam. They were not disappointed with respect to the windmills, which, as there was a fair breeze, seemed to be all very busy, the sails whirling round and round and doing their duty with all earnestness, as duty ought to be done. When the wind slackened it was not their fault if they did not go as fast. They could distinguish the flour mills, which generally had a balcony running round half-way up; but the draining mills were smaller, and had no balcony. Zaandam, however, did not look like a town, it more resembled a straggling village; the houses—small, painted a bright green, with red roofs—peeping out on the banks of the river amid the trees in all directions.

Suddenly the Count began whirling his arms about in a way which made the Baron fancy he had gone mad.

“What is the matter?” he exclaimed.

“I cannot help it,” answered the Count, still looking up at the windmills. “How they go round and round and round in all directions; it is enough to turn one into a windmill. I feel inclined already to become one.”

“Don’t, don’t!” cried the Baron, seizing his friend’s arms and holding them down. “Don’t look at those whirlabout sails, but come let us go and see the house of Peter the Great, which was the chief object of our visit to this place.”

“Peter the Great, ah, I have heard of him; how long did he live here?” asked the Count.

“Not very long,” said their friend. “Zaandam was in those days a great ship-building place, and he came here to instruct himself in the art; but the people found out who he was, and shocked his modesty by staring him out of countenance, so he went away to Amsterdam, where among the crowd he was less likely to be discovered.”

Proceeding along a canal bordered by a few dilapidated houses, they arrived before a zinc building, which has been erected to cover the hut in which Peter the Great lived. An ancient individual, who had charge of it, admitted them within the outside covering.

“Peter of Russia was a great man, there’s no doubt about that,” observed the Baron. “But from the appearance of this edifice he must have been contented with a very inferior style of accommodation; for there appear to be but two small rooms, and every plank of the walls is out of the perpendicular, and every beam far off the horizontal, while the floors resemble the surface of a troubled sea.”

The hut was constructed of wood, old planks nailed roughly together, some running in one direction, some in another. As the travellers entered they rolled about as if they had suddenly become giddy. The furniture too was limited; it consisted of a couple of curiously shaped old chairs, a table and a bedstead of antique form and simple construction. The walls were adorned with portraits of Peter the Great and his wife, who certainly, judging by her picture, was no beauty.

“I observe that a number of persons of celebrity have carved their names on the walls; I think we ought to do the same, to let it be known to all the world, who come after us, that we have been here,” said the Baron, taking out his penknife. “Here are some names, great persons undoubtedly, and, as far as I can judge, English; let me see, one is Jones, the other is Smith, and a third Brown—we will add ours.”

“Have the kindness to put mine, then,” said the Count. “I should wish to appear in such excellent company, but carving on wood is not one of my talents.”

The Baron accordingly with the tip of his penknife wrote, or rather carved, “Count Funnibos and Baron Stilkin,” putting the date of their visit. Well satisfied with his performance, he took another glance round the room, about which the Count had been staggering, looking at the various corners and crevices, as if he expected to find the Great Peter in one of them, sawing or planing, or perhaps supping off a bowl of porridge. The ancient keeper informed them that the building was erected by a former Queen of Holland—a Princess of Russia—to prevent this relic of her ancestor being swept off the face of the earth. On one of the walls was a marble tablet, placed there by the Emperor Alexander to commemorate a visit he paid to the hut, which showed to the Count and Baron that another great person had been there before them.

Chapter Nine.On returning to the town of windmills, they encountered the gentleman who had advised them to pay a visit to the place.“I am going on to Alkmaar,” he observed, “and should be rejoiced to have your company; it is a place well worth seeing, and you will have further experience of Dutch scenery on the way.”“We will go, by all means,” said the Count, who, as it saved him the trouble of thinking, was glad to receive suggestions regarding their route. They accordingly went on board the steamer, which was already pretty well filled with country people, butter-sellers, peddlers, gardeners, and others, very clean and respectable and picturesque in their costume. There was a vast amount of shouting and holloaing and talking as the boat passed through a narrow lock, which conducted them into the direct line of canal navigation to the place they purposed visiting. As they glided on, they observed the banks on either side lined with windmills; here and there were small houses painted green with red roofs—indeed, red roofs were seen everywhere, like British soldiers skirmishing, as the colour was toned down and mellowed by time and weather. On and on they went, sometimes looking down from the canal to the country below them, for the water was on a higher level than the land.“It would be an awkward business if a breach were to be made in the banks, and the water were to run out over the country,” observed the Count.“We take precautions against that, by making the banks broad and strong, as you will observe,” remarked their friend. “But such an event has occurred more than once, sometimes by accident, and at others purposely, to prevent the approach of an enemy, when in a few hours a whole district has been laid under water.”“When that occurs, the fields and the orchards and the cottages of the inhabitants must be destroyed,” observed the Count.“Undoubtedly,” answered his companion. “But we Dutchmen are patriotic, and willingly sacrifice our own interests for the good of the country; besides which the chief sufferers have seldom been consulted—our leaders have decided that it was necessary, and it has been done. In this way Alkmaar was defended against the Spaniards, and Leyden was relieved by a fleet of the ‘Beggars of the Sea,’ which, sailing across the submerged land, brought provisions and reinforcements to the starving garrison.”League after league was passed over by this watery way; trees there were, but they were scarcely of sufficient height to break the uniform appearance of the level country.“My dear Baron,” said the Count, taking his friend by the button-hole, “I have at length settled a point in my mind which has long puzzled me; I have heard that philosophers differ as to whether the earth is round or flat, and now you will agree with me that we have proof positive that it is flat. Look round on every side—the country is as level as a billiard table, the water in the canals does not run one way more than another, there’s not a single elevation between us and the distant horizon. Yes, I am convinced of the fact: one does learn something by travelling.”The Baron, who was seldom in an argumentative mood, smiled blandly, and replied, “Yes, my dear Count, you are probably right as far as Holland is concerned. When we reach other parts of the world we may be compelled, against our better judgment, to change our opinion, but time enough for that when we get there; let us at present side with those who hold to the opinion that the world is flat, but not with those who pronounce it stale and unprofitable, for Holland is certainly not unprofitable, or the people would not look so wealthy, fat, and comfortable.”After the canal had made several turnings, the tall steeples of Alkmaar, quaint and ancient, appeared in sight, but it was some time before the steamer reached the quay of that picturesque town.Leaving the steamboat, the Count and the Baron at once going to an hotel, ordered dinner to be prepared, having invited their new friend to join them.“Though Alkmaar is a place of no great importance at present,” observed their friend, “it can boast of three things—its heroic defence against the Spaniards, of which I will give you an account by-and-by as we walk round the ramparts; of its cleanliness, of which you have ocular proof; and of the vast amount of excellent cheese which it exports; indeed, it is said to do more business in cheese than any other town in the world. There are also two or three quaint and curious buildings which are worthy of a visit.”“We will visit them in their turn,” observed the Baron.As he descended the steps of the hotel he evidently created some sensation among the market people, fishwives, the butter-sellers, and others who thronged the streets. Perceiving this, he stopped short and looked about him with a benignant air. “Perhaps, if I were to take up my residence here, I might be elected Burgomaster,” he thought to himself, “though at home it might be beneath my rank to enter into commerce. I should have no objection to deal in cheese, they look so clean, and taste so nice, and have so fragrant an odour. A million cheeses exported by Baron Stilkin and Company would sound well, and even though I were to make a profit of only a styver per cheese, would come to a good sum annually—I will see to it.” His cogitations were interrupted by the appearance of the Count and their friend, who now invited him to accompany them round the town. Their friend was an enthusiastic patriot, and having shown them Alkmaar, and described its heroic defence against the Spaniards, advised them as to the course they should afterwards pursue. They accordingly set off and visited Haarlem and Leyden, the Hague—the royal capital—and Rotterdam, the great commercial city rivalling Amsterdam, Gouda, and Utrecht, which possesses a cathedral and a fine old tower rising to the height of three hundred and twenty feet above the ground.“And now I propose that, as we have seen all these towns, we go forth and enjoy something ofthe country, before we leave Holland,” said the Count.“Agreed,” answered the Baron, and so it was settled.

On returning to the town of windmills, they encountered the gentleman who had advised them to pay a visit to the place.

“I am going on to Alkmaar,” he observed, “and should be rejoiced to have your company; it is a place well worth seeing, and you will have further experience of Dutch scenery on the way.”

“We will go, by all means,” said the Count, who, as it saved him the trouble of thinking, was glad to receive suggestions regarding their route. They accordingly went on board the steamer, which was already pretty well filled with country people, butter-sellers, peddlers, gardeners, and others, very clean and respectable and picturesque in their costume. There was a vast amount of shouting and holloaing and talking as the boat passed through a narrow lock, which conducted them into the direct line of canal navigation to the place they purposed visiting. As they glided on, they observed the banks on either side lined with windmills; here and there were small houses painted green with red roofs—indeed, red roofs were seen everywhere, like British soldiers skirmishing, as the colour was toned down and mellowed by time and weather. On and on they went, sometimes looking down from the canal to the country below them, for the water was on a higher level than the land.

“It would be an awkward business if a breach were to be made in the banks, and the water were to run out over the country,” observed the Count.

“We take precautions against that, by making the banks broad and strong, as you will observe,” remarked their friend. “But such an event has occurred more than once, sometimes by accident, and at others purposely, to prevent the approach of an enemy, when in a few hours a whole district has been laid under water.”

“When that occurs, the fields and the orchards and the cottages of the inhabitants must be destroyed,” observed the Count.

“Undoubtedly,” answered his companion. “But we Dutchmen are patriotic, and willingly sacrifice our own interests for the good of the country; besides which the chief sufferers have seldom been consulted—our leaders have decided that it was necessary, and it has been done. In this way Alkmaar was defended against the Spaniards, and Leyden was relieved by a fleet of the ‘Beggars of the Sea,’ which, sailing across the submerged land, brought provisions and reinforcements to the starving garrison.”

League after league was passed over by this watery way; trees there were, but they were scarcely of sufficient height to break the uniform appearance of the level country.

“My dear Baron,” said the Count, taking his friend by the button-hole, “I have at length settled a point in my mind which has long puzzled me; I have heard that philosophers differ as to whether the earth is round or flat, and now you will agree with me that we have proof positive that it is flat. Look round on every side—the country is as level as a billiard table, the water in the canals does not run one way more than another, there’s not a single elevation between us and the distant horizon. Yes, I am convinced of the fact: one does learn something by travelling.”

The Baron, who was seldom in an argumentative mood, smiled blandly, and replied, “Yes, my dear Count, you are probably right as far as Holland is concerned. When we reach other parts of the world we may be compelled, against our better judgment, to change our opinion, but time enough for that when we get there; let us at present side with those who hold to the opinion that the world is flat, but not with those who pronounce it stale and unprofitable, for Holland is certainly not unprofitable, or the people would not look so wealthy, fat, and comfortable.”

After the canal had made several turnings, the tall steeples of Alkmaar, quaint and ancient, appeared in sight, but it was some time before the steamer reached the quay of that picturesque town.

Leaving the steamboat, the Count and the Baron at once going to an hotel, ordered dinner to be prepared, having invited their new friend to join them.

“Though Alkmaar is a place of no great importance at present,” observed their friend, “it can boast of three things—its heroic defence against the Spaniards, of which I will give you an account by-and-by as we walk round the ramparts; of its cleanliness, of which you have ocular proof; and of the vast amount of excellent cheese which it exports; indeed, it is said to do more business in cheese than any other town in the world. There are also two or three quaint and curious buildings which are worthy of a visit.”

“We will visit them in their turn,” observed the Baron.

As he descended the steps of the hotel he evidently created some sensation among the market people, fishwives, the butter-sellers, and others who thronged the streets. Perceiving this, he stopped short and looked about him with a benignant air. “Perhaps, if I were to take up my residence here, I might be elected Burgomaster,” he thought to himself, “though at home it might be beneath my rank to enter into commerce. I should have no objection to deal in cheese, they look so clean, and taste so nice, and have so fragrant an odour. A million cheeses exported by Baron Stilkin and Company would sound well, and even though I were to make a profit of only a styver per cheese, would come to a good sum annually—I will see to it.” His cogitations were interrupted by the appearance of the Count and their friend, who now invited him to accompany them round the town. Their friend was an enthusiastic patriot, and having shown them Alkmaar, and described its heroic defence against the Spaniards, advised them as to the course they should afterwards pursue. They accordingly set off and visited Haarlem and Leyden, the Hague—the royal capital—and Rotterdam, the great commercial city rivalling Amsterdam, Gouda, and Utrecht, which possesses a cathedral and a fine old tower rising to the height of three hundred and twenty feet above the ground.

“And now I propose that, as we have seen all these towns, we go forth and enjoy something ofthe country, before we leave Holland,” said the Count.

“Agreed,” answered the Baron, and so it was settled.

Chapter Ten.Once more the Count and the Baron were in the country. As yet they had made but little progress in their journey round the world, but they were not disheartened.“We shall do it in time,” remarked the Count. “And it strikes me that if we were to put on my seven-league boots we should go much faster.”“But, my dear Count, have you seen them lately?” asked the Baron. “A dreadful idea has occurred to me. I am afraid that I left one of them on board of theGolden Hog, and if she has gone to the bottom your seven-league boot has gone also, and with only one it is very clear that we shall not go ahead with the desirable rapidity.”“Then I suspect we must do without them,” said the Count, who always took matters easily. “We must depend upon our own legs and such means of conveyance as present themselves. With the help of the railways, steamboats, trackboats, and horse carriages, we may still manage to get along. By-the-by, could we not manage to engage a balloon? We might get over the country at greater speed than even with my seven-league boots.”“We should not see much of it in that way, I suspect,” observed the Baron.“Oh, yes! A fine bird’s-eye view, such as an eagle enjoys,” exclaimed the Count.“I decidedly object to aërial travelling,” said the Baron. “It does not suit my figure, and I always feel giddy if I look down from a height. Sailing on the treacherous ocean is bad enough, and even railways are not altogether satisfactory. Give me the firm ground, a nice easy chaise on four wheels, steady horses, and an experienced coachman, and I can enjoy travelling. But here we are at Nighterecht, a pleasant, rural-looking place. It boasts of an inn, though not a large one, but we can enjoy the primitive simplicity of the inhabitants.”On reaching the inn, having announced themselves, they were received by the landlady with all the courtesy and respect due to persons of their exalted rank.“We must ask you, good Vrouw, to direct us to any objects worthy of inspection in this neighbourhood, that we may visit them while you are preparing dinner,” said the Baron.“Objects worthy of inspection,” said the Vrouw; “there are the houses, and the fields, and the canals, we have two—one passing close to the village, the other a little way in the rear—and five windmills, all in sight without the trouble of going in search of them. We expect that there will be something too which will take place to interest your lordships this afternoon. A stranger arrived this morning with a cart containing a large cask, the contents of which he proposes to exhibit to all those who will pay him a guilder each; the guilders are to remain with him, the contents of the cask are to be divided among the spectators. You will, of course, Mynheers, remain to witness the spectacle, and to enjoy the benefits which may be derived from the contents of the cask. Some say it is full of one thing, some of another, but no one knows what. Notices have been sent round in all directions, and we expect to have a numerous gathering, which will, at all events, prove profitable to my establishment.”The Count and the Baron, not being hurried, agreed to remain. As soon as dinner was over they observed a number of persons collecting under the trees in front of the inn, which stood, as the landlady assured them, on the top of a mountain, though the descent to the canal was scarcely more than twenty feet, comparing it with the level region around. In a short time a burly individual appeared, and, with the aid of two or three others, placed a huge cask on a central spot under the trees with the head facing down the hill. He then forthwith took his seat astride on the top of it.“Now, noble Mynheers and lovely Vrouws, you have come to see something very wonderful; but before I exhibit the mystery I must request you to hand me in the guilders, for unless I obtain a sufficient number the cask remains closed.”The people were flocking in from all parts, for at that time of the evening they had nothing in particular to do. The Count and the Baron drew near. The burly personage astride of the cask continued his address, while two or three attendants who had come with him went round to collect the coin.“You will understand, brave Hollanders, that any one who is disposed to give two guilders or three guilders is welcome to do so, and will, I hope, reap a proportionate reward,” he cried out at the top of his voice.The Count, who had become much interested, wondering what was coming out of the cask, proposed putting in five guilders.“As you like,” observed the Baron, “but it is wise, as a rule, to know what you are going to get for your money, and I suggest that we promise the individual on the cask an ample reward should we be satisfied. It would be as well not to pay more than anybody else.”“But then we can scarcely claim the privilege of standing in the front rank,” observed the Count. “Come, he shall have two guilders.”“As you like, it will save me the necessity of putting my hand in my purse,” said the Baron.The attendants having collected all the money they were likely to get, the individual on the cask, in a sonorous voice, announced his intention of exhibiting its contents. For some time past there had been strange noises proceeding from it, the cause of which no one could understand.“Are you prepared to see what you shall see?” cried the stout individual, riding astride on the cask. “Make ready, then. One, two, three;” and by some contrivance or other, he suddenly caused the head of the cask to fall out to the ground, when a chorus of mews and feline shrieks and cries as if long pent up burst forth, followed by an avalanche of cats with labels fixed to theirtails; who, gazing for a moment at the assemblage, dashed frantically forward, some in one direction, some in another, blinded by the light suddenly let in on their eyes: one made a rush at the Baron, and had almost seized his chin, while her claws stuck into his shirt-front before he could knock her off; another made a dash at the Count, who fled precipitately. Each cat, perhaps with the impression that she was ascending a tree, sprang first at one of the bystanders, and then at another; and then, if driven aside, dashed frantically forward down the slope, upsetting half a dozen of the spectators as they endeavoured to make their escape.“I told you, Mynheers and lovely Vrouws, that I should astonish you,” exclaimed the stout individual on the cask. “Each of you shall be welcome to the cats you can catch.” A few boys and girls, who seemed to consider it great fun, made chase after the cats. The Count and the Baron, and not a few other persons, being considerably irate at the hoax that had been practised upon them, turned furiously towards the burly individual, who still kept his seat on the cask.“How dare you sit there laughing at us!” exclaimed one.“You impudent fellow! you deserve to be ducked in the canal,” cried another.“You will only receive your due if we kick you out of the village,” cried a third.“A very proper way to treat him,” exclaimed a fourth.“Then let us begin!” exclaimed a fifth.The stout individual, finding the tide of public favour had decidedly turned against him, leaped off his cask, and fought his way through the angry crowd, who had, fortunately for him, been somewhat dispersed by the cats. Some tried to catch him, others tried to trip him up; but he was a stout fellow, and was not to be easily caught. Dodging in and out among them, till seeing a narrow lane which no one at the moment was guarding, he dashed down it, hoping to make his escape from the village; but instead of leading him to the outside, as he had hoped, it conducted him to the very centre. On he ran, followed by the whole crowd, the Count and Baron joining in the hue and cry. The village resounded with shouts of “Stop thief! stop thief!” but these only made the burly individual run the faster. A few of theinhabitants had made a short cut, hoping to meet him in front; but they only arrived in time to catch him by the skirts of his coat, which gave way as he sprang by them; several others made a grab at him, some at the collar, some on one side, some on the other, till the coat was reduced to shreds, when slipping his arms out of it he again sprang forward. The Count and the Baron, who had been rushing on with the crowd, were by some means or other separated. The Count having lost sight of the chase, thinking after all that it was no business of his, returned to his inn. It would have been well for the Baron if he had done the same; but as he was running on at a more rapid rate than he was wont to move, he tripped and fell; the rest of those engaged in the pursuit, in their eagerness scarcely perceiving what had happened, passed him by, leaving him to regain his legs as best he could. As soon as he had got up, he went on again at less speed, and in a more cautious manner.“I should like to see that fellow castigated,” he said to himself. “Never was served a more abominable trick. Where can he have gone? If I don’t make haste I shall not see what happens.” He accordingly ran on again; now he turned up one narrow lane, now down another, till he had completely lost himself. “It cannot be a large place, however,” he thought, “and I shall easily find my way back to the inn. Ah! I think I hear the shouts of the people.”He began to run on; presently he distinguished cries of, “There he is, there he is! That must be he, just his size! Well catch him now!”“I hope they will,” thought the Baron, and on he went; but as he happened to turn and glance over his shoulder, to his surprise, he saw that the people were following him. “We shall have him now! we shall have him now!” he heard the mob shouting. “That must be he! He is up to all sorts of tricks. Take care he does not escape us. Stop thief! stop thief!”The Baron not liking the sounds, and fearing that there might be some mistake, thought it best to keep ahead of the mob, and bolted down the first opening he discovered. To his great satisfaction, at the further end, he saw not only the inn, but the Count standing at the door of it. The mob were close behind him, now excited more than ever by their running, uttering all sorts of threats, and making unpleasant gestures with their fists, sticks, and staves.The Count looked astonished, scarcely comprehending what was happening. Never had the Baron run so fast, puffing and blowing as he went, and expecting every moment to drop from fatigue. Several persons were collected about the door of the inn, who seemed to be amused at watching him as he ran. At that moment two baker’s boys, carrying between them a large basketful of pies and cakes and loaves, and some paper bags of flour, happened to be passing the inn door. The Baron, in his hurry not seeing them, ran against the basket, when over he went with his legs in the air, his arms and shoulders and the larger part of his body into the very middle of the pies and cakes and bags of flour. The boys with looks of alarm held on firmly to the handles, without making any attempt to assist him, while he, overcome by his unusual exertions, was utterly unable to help himself. The Count, for the moment, was too muchastonished to do anything, but stood with arms uplifted exclaiming, “My dear Baron, what has happened? Do get out of that;” while other persons who stood by only cruelly grinned at his misfortune. At length the Count, recovering his presence of mind, descended the steps to the assistance of the hapless Baron, who certainly was more frightened than hurt, though covered from head to foot with flour and dough and the contents of the meat pies and fruit tarts, producing an extraordinary and ludicrous effect.The mob, who had by this time come up, shouted, “We have him at last. Now where shall we carry him to? What shall we do with him? He has given us a pretty long chase, and deserves to be well ducked, or tarred and feathered!”“My dear people,” exclaimed the Count, “you have made a mistake; this is my friend, Baron Stilkin, who joined you in the chase of that roguish fellow who let the cats out of the cask, and whom I am afraid you let go as well as the cats.”The mob still insisted that the Baron was the man of whom they were in chase, and it required all the Count’s eloquence to persuade them to the contrary; but his pitiable plight rather amused them than excited their compassion. Some of them had even the cruelty to beg him to start again, and give them another chase. At length the kind-hearted landlady of the inn, coming out, begged him to enter, undertaking to wash his waistcoat and shirt-front, and to put him to rights.“Thanks, my good Vrouw, thanks; and if you will prepare some supper for me, I shall be doubly grateful, for I am terribly hungry after my long run,” answered the Baron.“First let me get off the paste and flour, jam and grease,” said the Vrouw, bringing a brush and a towel and water; and she rubbed and scrubbed for some minutes with such good effect that the Baron’s garments were restored to their primitive lustre.“And now my outward appearance has been polished up, pray look after the interests of my inner man,” said the Baron, placing his hands to his heart. “I shall ever bear in mind the polite attention with which you have treated me, though it will take some time to forget the want of discernment your townsmen have exhibited in mistaking me for that abominable cat-man. What could have induced him to play such a trick?”The landlady admitted that she had met no one who could solve the mystery.“Nor have I,” said the Count. “I have been making inquiries in all directions, but not a person has been able to give me the wished-for information.”While the Vrouw went off to prepare supper for the Count and Baron, they seated themselves at a table in the neat little guest room to wait for it. Directly afterwards in came one of the bakers’ boys, demanding payment for the pies and tarts, the puddings and flour, injured and scattered by the Baron.“Pay you for getting in my way and causing me to fall over your abominable basket, to the great injury of my waistcoat and shirt-front, breeches and coat; not to speak of the undignified position I was compelled to assume amid the jeers and laughter of the surrounding populace!” exclaimed the Baron, eyeing the small baker’s boy.“I am told by my master to demand payment, and payment he says he must have,” answered the small baker’s boy.“Our wisest course will be to pay the demand made on us, and I would advise you in future not to tumble into a baker’s basket if you can help it,” said the Count.The Count, who was always open-handed, paid the demand made on the Baron, to the infinite satisfaction of the small baker’s boy. The Baron’s spirits revived after he had done justice to the supper prepared by the kind-hearted Vrouw.“In what direction shall we next bend our steps?” asked the Count.“I have a fancy to visit the province of Guelderland, the region of roses; and afterwards Friesland, celebrated throughout Holland for the beauty of its fair dames and its ancient and interesting cities,” answered the Baron.“How shall we travel?” asked the Count.“I have been giving the matter my earnest consideration,” answered the Baron, “and I havearrived at the conclusion that the easiest, the pleasantest, if not the most expeditious, mode of travelling will be byTrek-Schuit, or canal-boat, where we can sit at our ease or sleep and eat while we are dragged smoothly on over the placid water.”“Certainly, the idea is an excellent one,” said? the Count, who was always ready to do what the Baron proposed.Accordingly the next morning, as theTrek-Schuitwas passing the village, they took their seats on board, and proceeded on their journey.

Once more the Count and the Baron were in the country. As yet they had made but little progress in their journey round the world, but they were not disheartened.

“We shall do it in time,” remarked the Count. “And it strikes me that if we were to put on my seven-league boots we should go much faster.”

“But, my dear Count, have you seen them lately?” asked the Baron. “A dreadful idea has occurred to me. I am afraid that I left one of them on board of theGolden Hog, and if she has gone to the bottom your seven-league boot has gone also, and with only one it is very clear that we shall not go ahead with the desirable rapidity.”

“Then I suspect we must do without them,” said the Count, who always took matters easily. “We must depend upon our own legs and such means of conveyance as present themselves. With the help of the railways, steamboats, trackboats, and horse carriages, we may still manage to get along. By-the-by, could we not manage to engage a balloon? We might get over the country at greater speed than even with my seven-league boots.”

“We should not see much of it in that way, I suspect,” observed the Baron.

“Oh, yes! A fine bird’s-eye view, such as an eagle enjoys,” exclaimed the Count.

“I decidedly object to aërial travelling,” said the Baron. “It does not suit my figure, and I always feel giddy if I look down from a height. Sailing on the treacherous ocean is bad enough, and even railways are not altogether satisfactory. Give me the firm ground, a nice easy chaise on four wheels, steady horses, and an experienced coachman, and I can enjoy travelling. But here we are at Nighterecht, a pleasant, rural-looking place. It boasts of an inn, though not a large one, but we can enjoy the primitive simplicity of the inhabitants.”

On reaching the inn, having announced themselves, they were received by the landlady with all the courtesy and respect due to persons of their exalted rank.

“We must ask you, good Vrouw, to direct us to any objects worthy of inspection in this neighbourhood, that we may visit them while you are preparing dinner,” said the Baron.

“Objects worthy of inspection,” said the Vrouw; “there are the houses, and the fields, and the canals, we have two—one passing close to the village, the other a little way in the rear—and five windmills, all in sight without the trouble of going in search of them. We expect that there will be something too which will take place to interest your lordships this afternoon. A stranger arrived this morning with a cart containing a large cask, the contents of which he proposes to exhibit to all those who will pay him a guilder each; the guilders are to remain with him, the contents of the cask are to be divided among the spectators. You will, of course, Mynheers, remain to witness the spectacle, and to enjoy the benefits which may be derived from the contents of the cask. Some say it is full of one thing, some of another, but no one knows what. Notices have been sent round in all directions, and we expect to have a numerous gathering, which will, at all events, prove profitable to my establishment.”

The Count and the Baron, not being hurried, agreed to remain. As soon as dinner was over they observed a number of persons collecting under the trees in front of the inn, which stood, as the landlady assured them, on the top of a mountain, though the descent to the canal was scarcely more than twenty feet, comparing it with the level region around. In a short time a burly individual appeared, and, with the aid of two or three others, placed a huge cask on a central spot under the trees with the head facing down the hill. He then forthwith took his seat astride on the top of it.

“Now, noble Mynheers and lovely Vrouws, you have come to see something very wonderful; but before I exhibit the mystery I must request you to hand me in the guilders, for unless I obtain a sufficient number the cask remains closed.”

The people were flocking in from all parts, for at that time of the evening they had nothing in particular to do. The Count and the Baron drew near. The burly personage astride of the cask continued his address, while two or three attendants who had come with him went round to collect the coin.

“You will understand, brave Hollanders, that any one who is disposed to give two guilders or three guilders is welcome to do so, and will, I hope, reap a proportionate reward,” he cried out at the top of his voice.

The Count, who had become much interested, wondering what was coming out of the cask, proposed putting in five guilders.

“As you like,” observed the Baron, “but it is wise, as a rule, to know what you are going to get for your money, and I suggest that we promise the individual on the cask an ample reward should we be satisfied. It would be as well not to pay more than anybody else.”

“But then we can scarcely claim the privilege of standing in the front rank,” observed the Count. “Come, he shall have two guilders.”

“As you like, it will save me the necessity of putting my hand in my purse,” said the Baron.

The attendants having collected all the money they were likely to get, the individual on the cask, in a sonorous voice, announced his intention of exhibiting its contents. For some time past there had been strange noises proceeding from it, the cause of which no one could understand.

“Are you prepared to see what you shall see?” cried the stout individual, riding astride on the cask. “Make ready, then. One, two, three;” and by some contrivance or other, he suddenly caused the head of the cask to fall out to the ground, when a chorus of mews and feline shrieks and cries as if long pent up burst forth, followed by an avalanche of cats with labels fixed to theirtails; who, gazing for a moment at the assemblage, dashed frantically forward, some in one direction, some in another, blinded by the light suddenly let in on their eyes: one made a rush at the Baron, and had almost seized his chin, while her claws stuck into his shirt-front before he could knock her off; another made a dash at the Count, who fled precipitately. Each cat, perhaps with the impression that she was ascending a tree, sprang first at one of the bystanders, and then at another; and then, if driven aside, dashed frantically forward down the slope, upsetting half a dozen of the spectators as they endeavoured to make their escape.

“I told you, Mynheers and lovely Vrouws, that I should astonish you,” exclaimed the stout individual on the cask. “Each of you shall be welcome to the cats you can catch.” A few boys and girls, who seemed to consider it great fun, made chase after the cats. The Count and the Baron, and not a few other persons, being considerably irate at the hoax that had been practised upon them, turned furiously towards the burly individual, who still kept his seat on the cask.

“How dare you sit there laughing at us!” exclaimed one.

“You impudent fellow! you deserve to be ducked in the canal,” cried another.

“You will only receive your due if we kick you out of the village,” cried a third.

“A very proper way to treat him,” exclaimed a fourth.

“Then let us begin!” exclaimed a fifth.

The stout individual, finding the tide of public favour had decidedly turned against him, leaped off his cask, and fought his way through the angry crowd, who had, fortunately for him, been somewhat dispersed by the cats. Some tried to catch him, others tried to trip him up; but he was a stout fellow, and was not to be easily caught. Dodging in and out among them, till seeing a narrow lane which no one at the moment was guarding, he dashed down it, hoping to make his escape from the village; but instead of leading him to the outside, as he had hoped, it conducted him to the very centre. On he ran, followed by the whole crowd, the Count and Baron joining in the hue and cry. The village resounded with shouts of “Stop thief! stop thief!” but these only made the burly individual run the faster. A few of theinhabitants had made a short cut, hoping to meet him in front; but they only arrived in time to catch him by the skirts of his coat, which gave way as he sprang by them; several others made a grab at him, some at the collar, some on one side, some on the other, till the coat was reduced to shreds, when slipping his arms out of it he again sprang forward. The Count and the Baron, who had been rushing on with the crowd, were by some means or other separated. The Count having lost sight of the chase, thinking after all that it was no business of his, returned to his inn. It would have been well for the Baron if he had done the same; but as he was running on at a more rapid rate than he was wont to move, he tripped and fell; the rest of those engaged in the pursuit, in their eagerness scarcely perceiving what had happened, passed him by, leaving him to regain his legs as best he could. As soon as he had got up, he went on again at less speed, and in a more cautious manner.

“I should like to see that fellow castigated,” he said to himself. “Never was served a more abominable trick. Where can he have gone? If I don’t make haste I shall not see what happens.” He accordingly ran on again; now he turned up one narrow lane, now down another, till he had completely lost himself. “It cannot be a large place, however,” he thought, “and I shall easily find my way back to the inn. Ah! I think I hear the shouts of the people.”

He began to run on; presently he distinguished cries of, “There he is, there he is! That must be he, just his size! Well catch him now!”

“I hope they will,” thought the Baron, and on he went; but as he happened to turn and glance over his shoulder, to his surprise, he saw that the people were following him. “We shall have him now! we shall have him now!” he heard the mob shouting. “That must be he! He is up to all sorts of tricks. Take care he does not escape us. Stop thief! stop thief!”

The Baron not liking the sounds, and fearing that there might be some mistake, thought it best to keep ahead of the mob, and bolted down the first opening he discovered. To his great satisfaction, at the further end, he saw not only the inn, but the Count standing at the door of it. The mob were close behind him, now excited more than ever by their running, uttering all sorts of threats, and making unpleasant gestures with their fists, sticks, and staves.

The Count looked astonished, scarcely comprehending what was happening. Never had the Baron run so fast, puffing and blowing as he went, and expecting every moment to drop from fatigue. Several persons were collected about the door of the inn, who seemed to be amused at watching him as he ran. At that moment two baker’s boys, carrying between them a large basketful of pies and cakes and loaves, and some paper bags of flour, happened to be passing the inn door. The Baron, in his hurry not seeing them, ran against the basket, when over he went with his legs in the air, his arms and shoulders and the larger part of his body into the very middle of the pies and cakes and bags of flour. The boys with looks of alarm held on firmly to the handles, without making any attempt to assist him, while he, overcome by his unusual exertions, was utterly unable to help himself. The Count, for the moment, was too muchastonished to do anything, but stood with arms uplifted exclaiming, “My dear Baron, what has happened? Do get out of that;” while other persons who stood by only cruelly grinned at his misfortune. At length the Count, recovering his presence of mind, descended the steps to the assistance of the hapless Baron, who certainly was more frightened than hurt, though covered from head to foot with flour and dough and the contents of the meat pies and fruit tarts, producing an extraordinary and ludicrous effect.

The mob, who had by this time come up, shouted, “We have him at last. Now where shall we carry him to? What shall we do with him? He has given us a pretty long chase, and deserves to be well ducked, or tarred and feathered!”

“My dear people,” exclaimed the Count, “you have made a mistake; this is my friend, Baron Stilkin, who joined you in the chase of that roguish fellow who let the cats out of the cask, and whom I am afraid you let go as well as the cats.”

The mob still insisted that the Baron was the man of whom they were in chase, and it required all the Count’s eloquence to persuade them to the contrary; but his pitiable plight rather amused them than excited their compassion. Some of them had even the cruelty to beg him to start again, and give them another chase. At length the kind-hearted landlady of the inn, coming out, begged him to enter, undertaking to wash his waistcoat and shirt-front, and to put him to rights.

“Thanks, my good Vrouw, thanks; and if you will prepare some supper for me, I shall be doubly grateful, for I am terribly hungry after my long run,” answered the Baron.

“First let me get off the paste and flour, jam and grease,” said the Vrouw, bringing a brush and a towel and water; and she rubbed and scrubbed for some minutes with such good effect that the Baron’s garments were restored to their primitive lustre.

“And now my outward appearance has been polished up, pray look after the interests of my inner man,” said the Baron, placing his hands to his heart. “I shall ever bear in mind the polite attention with which you have treated me, though it will take some time to forget the want of discernment your townsmen have exhibited in mistaking me for that abominable cat-man. What could have induced him to play such a trick?”

The landlady admitted that she had met no one who could solve the mystery.

“Nor have I,” said the Count. “I have been making inquiries in all directions, but not a person has been able to give me the wished-for information.”

While the Vrouw went off to prepare supper for the Count and Baron, they seated themselves at a table in the neat little guest room to wait for it. Directly afterwards in came one of the bakers’ boys, demanding payment for the pies and tarts, the puddings and flour, injured and scattered by the Baron.

“Pay you for getting in my way and causing me to fall over your abominable basket, to the great injury of my waistcoat and shirt-front, breeches and coat; not to speak of the undignified position I was compelled to assume amid the jeers and laughter of the surrounding populace!” exclaimed the Baron, eyeing the small baker’s boy.

“I am told by my master to demand payment, and payment he says he must have,” answered the small baker’s boy.

“Our wisest course will be to pay the demand made on us, and I would advise you in future not to tumble into a baker’s basket if you can help it,” said the Count.

The Count, who was always open-handed, paid the demand made on the Baron, to the infinite satisfaction of the small baker’s boy. The Baron’s spirits revived after he had done justice to the supper prepared by the kind-hearted Vrouw.

“In what direction shall we next bend our steps?” asked the Count.

“I have a fancy to visit the province of Guelderland, the region of roses; and afterwards Friesland, celebrated throughout Holland for the beauty of its fair dames and its ancient and interesting cities,” answered the Baron.

“How shall we travel?” asked the Count.

“I have been giving the matter my earnest consideration,” answered the Baron, “and I havearrived at the conclusion that the easiest, the pleasantest, if not the most expeditious, mode of travelling will be byTrek-Schuit, or canal-boat, where we can sit at our ease or sleep and eat while we are dragged smoothly on over the placid water.”

“Certainly, the idea is an excellent one,” said? the Count, who was always ready to do what the Baron proposed.

Accordingly the next morning, as theTrek-Schuitwas passing the village, they took their seats on board, and proceeded on their journey.

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