en the fields,
and the plain stretched unbroken away into the distance. The twenty
miles to Bruges we made in forty minutes. The streets of this antique
city are narrow and crooked, and the pointed, ornamented gables of the
houses, produce a novel impression on one who has been accustomed to the
green American forests. Then there was the endless sound of wooden shoes
clattering over the rough pavements, and people talking in that most
unmusical of all languages, low Dutch. Walking at random through the
streets, we came by chance upon the Cathedral of Notre Dame. I shall
long remember my first impression of the scene within. The lofty gothic
ceiling arched far above my head and through the stained windows the
light came but dimly--it was all still, solemn and religious. A few
worshippers were kneeling in silence before some of the shrines and the
echo of my tread seemed like a profaning sound. On every side were
pictures, saints gilded shrines. A few steps removed one from the bustle
and din of the crowd to the stillness and solemnity of the holy retreat.

We learned from the guide, whom we had engaged because he spoke a few
words of English, that there was still a _treckshuyt_ line on the
canals, and that one boat leaves to-night at ten o'clock for Ghent.
Wishing to try this old Dutch method of travelling, he took us about
half a mile along the Ghent road to the canal, where a moderate sized
boat was lying. Our baggage deposited in the plainly furnished cabin, I
ran back to Bruges, although it was beginning to grow dark, to get a
sight of the belfry; for Longfellow's lines had been running through my
head all day:

"In the market place of Bruges, stands the belfry old and brown,
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town."

And having found the square, brown tower in one corner of the open
market square, we waited to hear the chimes, which are said to be the
finest in Europe. They rang out at last with a clear silvery tone, most
beautifully musical indeed. We then returned to the boat in the
twilight. We were to leave in about an hour, according to the
arrangement, but as yet there was no sound to be heard, and we were the
only tenants. However, trusting to Dutch regularity, we went to sleep in
the full confidence of awakening in Ghent.

I awoke once in the night and saw the dark branches of trees passing
before the window, but there was no perceptible sound nor motion; the
boat glided alon