wever well managed, can keep an ourang-outang long, and
therefore one should always study that uncomfortably human creature
whenever the opportunity occurs. I had great fortune at Rotterdam,
for I chanced to be in the ourang-outang's house when his keeper
came in. Entering the enclosure, he romped with him in a score of
diverting ways. They embraced each other, fed each other, teased
each other. The humanness of the creature was frightful. Perhaps our
likeness to ourang-outangs (except for our ridiculously short arms,
inadequate lower jaws and lack of hair) made him similarly uneasy.

Rotterdam, I have read somewhere, was famous at the end of the
eighteenth century for a miser, the richest man in the city. He always
did his own marketing, and once changed his butcher because he weighed
the paper with the meat He bought his milk in farthingsworths, half
of which had to be delivered at his front door and half at the back,
"to gain the little advantage of extra measure". Different travellers
note different things, and William Chambers, the publisher, in his
_Tour in Holland_ in 1839, selected for special notice another type
of Rotterdam resident: "One of the most remarkable men of this [the
merchant] class is Mr. Van Hoboken of Rhoon and Pendrecht, who lives
on one of the havens. This individual began life as a merchant's
porter, and has in process of time attained the highest rank among
the Dutch mercantile aristocracy. He is at present the principal owner
of twenty large ships in the East India trade, each, I was informed,
worth about fourteen thousand pounds, besides a large landed estate,
and much floating wealth of different descriptions. His establishment
is of vast extent, and contains departments for the building of ships
and manufacture of all their necessary equipments. This gentleman,
until lately, was in the habit of giving a splendid fete once a year
to his family and friends, at which was exhibited with modest pride
the porter's truck which he drew at the outset of his career. One
seldom hears of British merchants thus keeping alive the remembrance
of early meanness of circumstances."

At one of Rotterdam's stations I saw the Queen-Mother, a
smiling, maternal lady in a lavender silk dress, carrying a large
bouquet, and saying pretty things to a deputation drawn up on the
platform. Rotterdam had put out its best bunting, and laid six inches
of sand on its roads, to do honour to this kindly royalty. The band