nature is offensive to him; he moulds and trains on every hand,
as one may see on the railway journey to The Hague. Trees he endures
only so long as they are obedient and equidistant: he likes them
in avenues or straight lines; if they grow otherwise they must be
pollarded. It is true that he has not touched the Bosch, at The Hague;
but since his hands perforce have been kept off its trees, he has run
scores of formal straight well-gravelled paths beneath their branches.

This passion for interference grew perhaps from exultation upon
successful dealings with the sea. A man who by his own efforts can
live in security below sea-level, and graze cattle luxuriantly where
sand and pebbles and salt once made a desert, has perhaps the right
to feel that everything in nature would be the better for a little
manipulation. Eyes accustomed to the careless profusion that one may
see even on a short railway journey in England are shocked to find
nature so tractable both in land and water.

The Dutchman's pruning, however, is not done solely for the
satisfaction of exerting control. These millions of pollarded
willows which one sees from the line have a deeper significance than
might ever be guessed at: it is they that are keeping out Holland's
ancient enemy, the sea. In other words, a great part of the basis of
the strength of the dykes is imparted by interwoven willow boughs,
which are constantly being renewed under the vigilant eyes of the dyke
inspectors. For the rest, the inveterate trimming of trees must be a
comparatively modern custom, for many of the old landscapes depict
careless foliage--Koninck's particularly. And look, for instance,
at that wonderful picture--perhaps the finest landscape in Dutch
art--Rembrandt's etching "The Three Trees". There is nothing in North
Holland to-day as unstudied as that. I doubt if you could now find
three trees of such individuality and courage.

When I was first at The Hague, seven years ago, I stayed not, as on
my last visit, at the Oude Doelen, which is the most comfortable
hotel in Holland, but at a more retired hostelry. It was spacious
and antiquated, with large empty rooms, and cool passages, and an
air of decay over all. Servants one never saw, nor any waiter proper;
one's every need was carried out by a very small and very enthusiastic
boy. "Is the hroom good, sare?" he asked, as he flung open the door of
the bedroom with a superb flourish. "Is the sham good, sare?" he asked