to come unto
me," and understand the sacred simplicity of a child's heart, it no
longer awakens surprise.

CHAPTER IV.

THE JOURNEY TO HOLLAND TO ATTEND THE GOLDEN WEDDING.

The rattle of wheels and the blast of the postilion's horn closed the
first period of my childhood. When I was four years old we went to my
mother's home to attend my grandparents' golden wedding. If I wished to
describe the journey in its regular order I should be forced to depend
upon the statements of others. So little of all which grown people deem
worth seeing and noting in Belgium, Holland, and on the Rhine has
remained in my memory, that I cannot help smiling when I hear people say
that they intend to take children travelling for their amusement and
instruction. In our case we were put in the carriage because my mother
would not leave us behind, and wanted to give our grandparents pleasure
by our presence. She was right, but in spite of my inborn love of travel
the month we spent on the journey seemed a period of very uncomfortable
restlessness. A child realizes only a single detail of beauty--a flower,
a radiant star, a human face. Any individual recollection of the journey
to Holland, aside from what has been told me, is getting into the
travelling carriage, a little green leather Bajazzo dressed in red and
white given to me by a relative, and the box of candies bestowed to take
on the trip by a friend of my mother.

Of our reception in the Belgian capital at the house of Adolphe Jones,
the husband of my aunt Henriette, a sister of my mother, I retain many
recollections.

Our pleasant host was a painter of animals, whom I afterward saw sharing
his friend Verboeckhoven's studio, and whose flocks of sheep were very
highly praised. At that time his studio was in his own house, and it
seems as if I could still hear the call in my aunt's shrill voice,
repeated countless times a day, "Adolphe!" and the answer, following
promptly in the deepest bass tones, "Henriette!" This singular freak,
which greatly amused us, was due, as I learned afterward, to my aunt's
jealousy, which almost bordered on insanity.

In later years I learned to know him as a jovial artist, who in the days
of his youth very possibly might have given the strait-laced lady cause
for anxiety. Even when his locks were white he was ready for any
pleasure; but he devoted himself earnestly to art, and I am under
obligation to him for being the means of my mother's posses