d
accident. I must confess to being glad to leave: for either one was
intruding upon a simple folk entirely surrounded by water; or the
simple folk, knowing human nature, had made itself up and sent out
its importunate young from strictly mercenary motives. In either
case Marken is no place for a sensitive traveller. The theory that
the Marken people are savages is certainly a wrong one; they have
carried certain of the privileges of civilisation very far and can
take care of themselves with unusual cleverness. Moreover, no savage
would cover his legs with such garments as the men adhere to.

What is wrong with Marken is that for the most part it subsists
on sight-seers, which is bad; and it too generally suggests that
a stage-manager, employed by a huge Trust, is somewhere in the
background. It cannot be well with a community that encourages its
children to beg of visitors.

The women, however, look sensible: fine upstanding creatures with a
long curl of yellow hair on each side of their faces. One meets them
now and then in Amsterdam streets, by no means dismayed by the traffic
and bustle. Their head-dresses are striking and gay, and the front
of their bodices is elaborately embroidered, the prevailing colours
being red and pink. Bright hues are also very popular within doors on
this island, perhaps by way of counteracting the external monotony,
the Marken walls being washed with yellow and hung with Delft plates,
while the furniture and hangings all have a cheerful gaiety.

The island is flat save for the mounds on which its villages are built,
each house standing on poles to allow the frequent inundations of the
winter free way. If one has the time and money it is certainly better
to visit Marken in a fishing-boat than in the steamer--provided that
one can trust oneself to navigators masquerading in such bloomers.

The steamers from Amsterdam pause for a while at Broek and
Monnickendam. Broek-in-Waterland, to give it its full title, is one
of the quaintest of Dutch villages. But unfortunately Broek also
has become to some extent a professional "sight". Its cleanliness,
however, for which it is famous, is not an artificial effect attained
to impress visitors, but a genuine enough characteristic. The houses
are gained by little bridges which, with various other idiosyncrasies,
help to make Broek a delight to children. If a company of children
were to be allowed to manage a small republic entirely alone, the
whims