independent English traveller, able to call for
what I liked. As we walked by a canal side,
the lamplight and the water in the street, the
quaint old houses and the people round about
me, even the very pebbles under foot, were
printed off on the white paper of my mind.
We passed an old church porch, and a rich
flow of organ music pouring over the fresh
impressions as they were just then made
within me, fixed them permanently into the
only picture of the town of Rotterdam that
time has been unable to efface.

"You must take the boat to Cologne at
two o'clock to-morrow," said Mynheer. "You
carry English monies, I suppose?" I said
"Yes." "Very goot. I will change it for you
into Dutches and Germans. I will be with you
when you get up to-morrow morning." So
Mynheer considerately left me at one of the
few hotels in which there happened to be not
a waiter who spoke English. Ordered by him
in my name, there was brought to me a
supper of bread and milk. Then I was shown
the way to bed.

Alone that night upon a little bed, under
clean dimity curtains, I cried myself to sleep,
for the spirit of childhood came and set my
tears a-flowing. But in the morning there
came Mynheer Van der Tabak, with the
question, "What is your monies?" In exchange
for a few sovereigns he gave me a complete
numismatical collection of greasy copper and
German silver counters having no recognizable
image and superscription; over them he
mumbled, as if it were a benison, a very short and
rapid account of their value. "You must
have pieces of all kinds and pay exact, or else
in giving change peoples will cheat you.'' I
felt at the time as though I had bought a
copper-mine, and lost considerably by the
venture. But as Van der Tabak said, "in
giving change, peoples will cheat you," so I
pocketed without any remark his dirty money
and his axiom.

Mynheer departed, and I saw no more of
him. In a big room I sat down before a fresh
basin of bread and milk, not feeling my
dignity offended, because I had a real affection
for good bread and milk, especially when I
was master of the sugar basin. After breakfast
I set out to do what Mynheer should
have done for me, and without much trouble
found the starting place of the Cologne steamer
and the booking office, there being plenty of
English spoken by the water side. I paid my
way—half fare as being a child—on to
Cologne; made sure about the time of starting,
and went back to the hotel, where I was to
dine like an independent tourist at the table
d'hôte. The hostess, a clear-skinned, stout,
genial woman, caused me to sit by her
side, and I was not too proud to be glad
that she assumed towards me, with a great
deal of nice tact, motherly relations. The
dinner puzzled me. I did not understand
the meaning of dessert and meat at once upon
the table-cloth. There was so much oil in all
the dishes that I felt a little sick at
contemplation of the long perspective of them. I
had some vermicelli soup, tasting of castor
oil. The fish fried in oil I could not put into
my mouth. After that, I nursed terrible
suspicions on the subject of the made dishes.
The waiters, hovering over us like harpies,
pounced upon the larger lumps and joints of
meat, and bore them away over our heads, to
be sliced up at side tables, and brought round.
I could not dine at all until I saw plum
pudding. The good-humoured landlady was
at last amused and gratified at seeing that I
made a hearty dinner upon that.

Then all was paid for, and my little
portmanteau went upon a truck with other luggage
to the boat. Fairly on board and started up
the Rhine, I went down into the cabin, put
my cap upon my knees, and emptied into it
the coins out of my jacket pocket. I desired
to know what they all meant. I had already
begun to use them, and in so doing had
obtained data to go upon; therefore I set to work
upon the problem with the unsightly counters
before me, as I had set to work at home over
a dissected map or an ingenious labyrinth. A
worthy Englishman accosted me. "Terrible
work that, sir," he said, with a comic air;
half humouring, half pitying my dignity of
independence as a tourist. "Terrible work. Can
I help you at all?" "Thank you," I said,
"I should like really to know how much I
have been cheated." Then I told him my
suspicion about Mynheer Van der Tabak, and
he sitting down by my side helped me to a
correct knowledge of the number of shillings
Mynheer had supposed to be contained in an
English pound, and instilled into me at the
same time a full knowledge of the mysteries
of groschen, pfennige, and so on. Thereafter
I had no fear. He was an English artist
travelling with all his family, and taking
sketches for a book upon Rhine scenery. I
used to look over his shoulder, and marvel at
the rapidity with which he pencilled scenes
down as the steamer passed. He used to talk
to me as though I were a man of fifty, and I
attached myself to him, though it by no
means suited my humour to place myself in a
formal way under his protection.

We slept on board one night, during which
the steamer ran aground and jerked me off
a table into a corner of the cabin to my great
delight, for I had always enjoyed shipwreck
above all things. Unluckily, however, there
was nothing visible on deck more terrible
than fog, and I had seen fogs in London. We
got off again after some hours' delay, to my
regret, without any catastrophe. We were
boarded somewhere for passports, but I was
ready for all that. My passport had been
many days in my possession; a fond parent
had, indeed, proposed before my departure
into foreign parts, that a full length black
profile of me should be taken, in which I was
to be represented with my passport in my
hand.