p debts couldn't be collected. Creditors went to law,
and the law turned its back upon them; debts made in gambling were not
binding, it said. Then there was a time! Thousands of rich speculators
were reduced to beggary in an hour. As old Beckman says, 'The bubble was
burst at last.'"

"Yes, and a big bubble it was," said Ben, who had listened with great
interest. "By the way, did you know that the name tulip came from a
Turkish word, signifying turban?"

"I had forgotten that," answered Lambert, "but it's a capital idea. Just
fancy a party of Turks in full headgear squatted upon a lawn--perfect
tulip bed! Ha! ha! Capital idea!"

"There," groaned Ludwig to himself, "he's been telling Lambert something
wonderful about tulips--I knew it!"

"The fact is," continued Lambert, "you can conjure up quite a human
picture of a tulip bed in bloom, especially when it is nodding and
bobbing in the wind. Did you ever notice it?"

"Not I. It strikes me, Van Mounen, that you Hollanders are prodigiously
fond of the flower to this day."

"Certainly. You can't have a garden without them; prettiest flower that
grows, I think. My uncle has a magnificent bed of the finest varieties
at his summer house on the other side of Amsterdam."

"I thought your uncle lived in the city?"

"So he does; but his summer house, or pavilion, is a few miles off.
He has another one built out over the river. We passed near it when we
entered the city. Everybody in Amsterdam has a pavilion somewhere, if he
can."

"Do they ever live there?" asked Ben.

"Bless you, no! They are small affairs, suitable only to spend a few
hours in on summer afternoons. There are some beautiful ones on the
southern end of the Haarlem Lake--now that they've commenced to drain
it into polders, it will spoil THAT fun. By the way, we've passed some
red-roofed ones since we left home. You noticed them, I suppose, with
their little bridges and ponds and gardens, and their mottoes over the
doorway."

Ben nodded.

"They make but little show, now," continued Lambert, "but in warm
weather they are delightful. After the willows sprout, uncle goes to his
summer house every afternoon. He dozes and smokes; aunt knits, with her
feet perched upon a foot stove, never mind how hot the day; my cousin
Rika and the other girls fish in the lake from the windows or chat with
their friends rowing by; and the youngsters tumble about or hang upon
the little bridges over the ditch. Then they ha