walking slowly up and down on the
sidewalk, wearing a glazed hat, and a uniform of blue broadcloth, with
his letter and number embroidered on the collar. He saw an elegant
carriage drive by, with a postilion riding upon one of the horses, and
two footmen in very splendid liveries behind. There was a lady in the
carriage, but she appeared old, and though she was splendidly dressed,
her face was very plain.

"I wonder," said Rollo to himself, "how much she would give of her
riches and finery if she could be as young and as pretty as my cousin
Lucy."

"Now, Rollo," said Mr. George, interrupting Rollo's reflections, "what
is the question?"

"Why, I want to know," said Rollo, "whether you think we had better go
to Holland in the winter or in the summer."

"Is it left to you to decide?" asked Mr. George.

"Why, no," said Rollo, "not exactly. But mother asked me to consider
which I thought was best, and so I want to know your opinion."

"Very well," said Mr. George, "go on and argue the case. After I have
heard it argued I will decide."

Rollo then proceeded to explain to his uncle the advantages,
respectively, of going in the summer and in the winter. After hearing
him, Mr. George thought it would be decidedly better to go in the
summer.

"You see," said he, "that the only advantage of going in the winter is
to see the skating. That is very important, I know. I should like to
see the Dutch women skating to market myself, very much. But then, in
the winter you could see very little of the canals, and the wind mills,
and all the other hydraulic operations of the country. Every thing would
be frozen up solid."

"Father says that he can't go now very well," continued Rollo, "but that
I may go with you if you would like to go."

Mr. George was just in the act of sealing his letter as Rollo spoke
these words; but he paused in the operation, holding the stick of
sealing wax in one hand and the letter in the other, as if he was
reflecting on what Rollo had said.

"If we only had some one else to go with us," said Mr. George.

"Should not we two be enough?" asked Rollo.

"Why, you see," said Mr. George, "when we get into Holland we shall not
understand one word of the language."

"What language do they speak?" asked Rollo.

"Dutch," said Mr. George, "and I do not know any Dutch."

"Not a word?" asked Rollo.

"No," said Mr. George, "not a word. Ah, yes! I know one word. I know
that _dampschiff_ means steamboat. _