as those of the
Scheldt. Dykes stretched as far as the eye could see, and behind the
dykes appeared the tops of trees, the tips of steeples, and the roofs
of houses, which were hidden from view, all lending the landscape an
air of mystery and solitude. Only on some projection of the banks
which formed a gap in the immense bulwarks of the island peeped forth,
as it were, a sketch of a Dutch landscape--a painted cottage, a
windmill, a boat--which seemed to reveal a secret created to arouse
the curiosity of travellers, and to delude it directly it was aroused.

Suddenly, on approaching the prow of the ship, where were the
third-class passengers, I made a most agreeable discovery. Here was a
group of peasants, men and women, dressed in the costume of Zealand--I
do not remember of which island, for the costume differs in each, like
the dialect, which is a mixture of Dutch and Flemish, if one may so
speak of two languages that are almost identical. The men were all
dressed alike. They wore round felt hats trimmed with wide embroidered
ribbons; their jackets were of dark cloth, close fitting, and so short
as hardly to cover their hips, and left open to show a sort of
waistcoat striped with red, yellow, and green, which was closed over
the chest by a row of silver buttons attached to one another like the
links of a chain. Their costume was completed by a pair of short
breeches of the same color as the jacket, tied round the waist by a
band ornamented by a large stud of chiselled silver,--a red cravat,
and woollen stockings reaching to the knee. In short, below the waist
their dress was that of a priest, and above it, that of a harlequin.
One of them had coins for buttons, and this is not an unusual
practice. The women wore very high straw hats in the form of a broken
cone, which looked like overturned buckets, bound round with long blue
ribbons fluttering in the wind; their dresses were dark-colored, open
at the throat, revealing white embroidered chemisettes; their arms
were bare to the elbow; and two enormous gold earrings of the most
eccentric shape projected almost over their cheeks. Although in my
voyage I tried to imitate Victor Hugo in admiring everything as a
savage, I could not possibly persuade myself that this was a beautiful
style of dress. But I was prepared for incongruities of this sort. I
knew that we go to Holland to see novelty rather than beauty, and good
things rather than new ones, so I was predisposed to