e opened and the streets have become
animated.

There is a great stir of people, who are busy, but not hurried: this
absence of hurry distinguishes the streets of Rotterdam from those of
certain parts of London, which, from the color of the houses and the
serious faces of the citizens, remind many travellers of the Dutch
city. Faces white and pale--faces the color of Parmesan cheese--faces
encircled by hair flaxen, golden, red, and yellowish--large shaven
faces with beards below the chin--eyes so light that one has to look
closely to see the pupil--sturdy women, plump, pink-cheeked, and
placid, wearing white caps and earrings shaped like corkscrews,--such
are the first things one observes in the crowd.

But my curiosity for the present was not aroused by the people. I
crossed Hoog-Straat and found myself in new Rotterdam.

One cannot decide whether it is a city or a harbor, whether there is
more land than water, or whether the ships are more numerous than the
houses.

The town is divided by long, wide canals into many islands, which are
united by drawbridges, turning bridges, and stone bridges. From both
sides of each canal extend two streets, with rows of trees on the side
next to the water and lines of houses on the opposite side. Each of
these canals forms a port where the water is deep enough to float the
largest vessels, and every one of them is full of shipping throughout
its length, a narrow space being kept clear in the middle which serves
as a thoroughfare for the vessels. It seems like a great fleet
imprisoned in a town.

I arrived at the hour of greatest activity, and took my stand on the
highest bridge of the principal crossway.

Thence I could see four canals, four forests of ships, flanked on
either side by eight rows of trees.

The streets were encumbered with people and merchandise. Droves of
cattle passed over the bridges, which were being raised and swung to
let the ships pass. The moment they closed or lowered again fresh
crowds of people, carriages, and carts passed over them. Ships as
fresh and shining as the models in a museum passed in and out of the
canals, carrying on their decks the wives and children of the sailors,
while smaller boats glided rapidly from ship to ship. Customers
thronged the shops. Servants were washing the walls and windows. This
busy scene with all its movement was made yet more cheerful by its
reflection in the water,--by the green of the trees, the red of the
hou