to visit a school in
Holland without a permit from the Mansion House."

"A rotten country!" I growled, and went away.

In the street I ran into a group of boys led by a master who was
smoking a fat cigar.

"Speak English?" I asked, lifting my hat gracefully.

"Nichtenrichtilbricht," he said; at least that's how it sounded.

"Thank you," I said, lifted my hat again, and fell in behind the boys.
I was determined to see this thing through.

I tackled him again when we reached the playground.

"I the head would see," I began, "the ober-johnny, the chef."

"Ja!" he exclaimed with an enlightened grin, and nodded. In ten
seconds the chief stood before me. He could speak a broken English,
and said he would be glad to show me round. It was a third class
school, and I gathered that in Holland there are three grades of State
school; the first class is attended by the rich, the second by the
middle class, and the third by the poor.

The school was very like a Board School in England. The children sat
in the familiar desks and were spoon-fed by the familiar teacher.
There was nothing new about it. I noticed that hand writing seemed to
be the most important thing, and each class teacher proudly showed me
exercise books filled with beautiful copper-plate writing. Most
obliging class teachers they were. Would I like to hear some singing?
It was wonderful singing in three parts; what surprised me was that the
boys seemed to be just as keen on singing as the girls. I have always
found it otherwise in Scotland and England.

In this school I got the gratifying news that corporal punishment is
not allowed in Dutch schools, and later I learned that this applies to
all reformatories also.

I think the Dutch are fond of children. Children seem to be
everywhere. I went to the police-station to register as an alien, and
as the inspector was examining my passport this wee girl of three
toddled in and climbed on his knees. He laid down his pen and fondled
the child. Then his wife came in; she had been out shopping, and
wanted him to admire the big potatoes she had bought. I was delighted
to see the human element mingle with the official. A country that
allows wives and children to mix up with its red-tape is on the right
road to health if not wealth.

I went to the Hague next day, and English friends met me at the station
and piloted me to their home. Next morning I visited an establishment
called the Observatiehuis,