tra for wine, or you
drink beer instead.

[Illustration: Antwerp Street]

The sights of Antwerp are too numerous to be covered in the short
time that was at our disposal on this occasion, but we gave some time
to the works and shrine of the master Rubens, and the wonderful
cathedral spire, and the Hotel de Ville and the Guild Houses and all
the rest, not forgetting Quentin Matsys's well. We were, however, a
practical party, and the shipping of the great port, the gay cafes,
and the busy life of Antwerp's marts of trade also appealed to us.

Antwerp is a wonderful storehouse of many things. "It is in the
streets of Antwerp and Brussels," said Sir Walter Scott, "that the
eye still rests upon the forms of architecture which appear in
pictures of the Flemish school."

"This rich intermixture of towers and battlements and projecting
windows highly sculptured produces an effect as superior to the tame
uniformity of a modern street as the casque of the warrior exhibits
over the slouch-brimmed beaver of a Quaker." This was true of Sir
Walter Scott's time, and it is true to-day.

Chapter II
By Dykes And Windmills

[Illustration: Dykes and Windmills]

Holland for automobilists is a land of one hill and miles and miles
of brick-paved roads, so well laid with tiny bricks, and so straight
and so level that it is almost an automobilist's paradise.

We had come from Belgium to Holland, from Antwerp to Breda, a little
short of fifty kilometres, to make a round of Dutch towns by
automobile, as we had done in the old days by the humble bicycle.

Custom-house regulations are not onerous in Holland. The law says you
must pay five per cent. duty on entering the country, or _at the
discretion of the authorities_, bona-fide tourists will be given a
temporary permit to "circulate" free. There are no speed limits in
Holland, but you must not drive to the common danger. The first we
were glad to know, the second we did not propose to do.

As we passed the frontier the _douaniers_ returned to their fishing
opposite the little _cabaret_ where we had some needed refreshment.
It is curious what satisfaction middle-class officialdom in
Continental Europe gets out of fishing. It is their one passion,
apparently, if their work lies near a well-stocked stream. The _chef
de bureau_ goes fishing, the _commissionnaire_ goes fishing, and
everybody goes fishing. A peaceful and innocent exercise for those
who like it, but one which is inexplic