l piano,
the renown of which surpasses that of the famous chimes of
Bruges. Strangers--if any ever come to Quiquendone--do not quit
the curious old town until they have visited its "Stadtholder's
Hall", adorned by a full-length portrait of William of Nassau, by
Brandon; the loft of the Church of Saint Magloire, a masterpiece
of sixteenth century architecture; the cast-iron well in the
spacious Place Saint Ernuph, the admirable ornamentation of which
is attributed to the artist-blacksmith, Quentin Metsys; the tomb
formerly erected to Mary of Burgundy, daughter of Charles the
Bold, who now reposes in the Church of Notre Dame at Bruges; and
so on. The principal industry of Quiquendone is the manufacture
of whipped creams and barley-sugar on a large scale. It has been
governed by the Van Tricasses, from father to son, for several
centuries. And yet Quiquendone is not on the map of Flanders!
Have the geographers forgotten it, or is it an intentional
omission? That I cannot tell; but Quiquendone really exists; with
its narrow streets, its fortified walls, its Spanish-looking
houses, its market, and its burgomaster--so much so, that it has
recently been the theatre of some surprising phenomena, as
extraordinary and incredible as they are true, which are to be
recounted in the present narration.

Surely there is nothing to be said or thought against the
Flemings of Western Flanders. They are a well-to-do folk, wise,
prudent, sociable, with even tempers, hospitable, perhaps a
little heavy in conversation as in mind; but this does not
explain why one of the most interesting towns of their district
has yet to appear on modern maps.

This omission is certainly to be regretted. If only history, or
in default of history the chronicles, or in default of chronicles
the traditions of the country, made mention of Quiquendone! But
no; neither atlases, guides, nor itineraries speak of it. M.
Joanne himself, that energetic hunter after small towns, says not
a word of it. It might be readily conceived that this silence
would injure the commerce, the industries, of the town. But let
us hasten to add that Quiquendone has neither industry nor
commerce, and that it does very well without them. Its barley-sugar
and whipped cream are consumed on the spot; none is exported. In
short, the Quiquendonians have no need of anybody. Their desires are
limited, their existence is a modest one; they are calm, moderate,
phlegmatic--in a word, they are F