Amsterdam Orphelines, all fed, clothed, and
provided for at the city's charges. Fed unto
shining—being of all little buxom women,
buxomest—and arrayed in the quaintest
raiment that can be. The Kalvat Straat is
alive with them this Sunday morning, and I
meet them in twos and threes tripping on to
worship. Quaint and picturesque certainly,
if there be quaintness in a tight lace skull-cap
cut to a point upon the forehead; in the
hair, shaved close and turned up under the
cap; in the snowy linen capes and black
body, the white gloves up to the elbow, and,
above all, in the parti-coloured skirt—right
half black, left half rich red, of the hue
affected by the French army in its pantaloons.
Pretty creatures, Trim, as my uncle Toby
said of the Beguims, chequering the streets
pleasantly with gay colouring. I did not
near so much fancy the Orphan-boy—
companion picture—whose coat and supplemental
garments were after the same Josephan
pattern—one half of him red, the other half
black—to be only likened to Punchinello at a
masked ball.

Putting away such profanities, it is full
time to think of Sabbath orison. But at
which house of worship, Bezonian? At what
hour enter; under whom sit? All which
questions may be resolved by consulting the
Religious Bill of Fare,—a neat tabular statement,
wherein is set out, time, place, and
individual,—published hebdomadally; duly
framed, and hung out at the doors of
booksellers' shops, for the information of the
spiritual world. A few moments' consultation
with the tabular statement, puts me
quite au courant with the Sunday dispensation.
I find that there is the Nieuwe Kerke
and the Oude Kerke, just as we had the old
Doelen and the new Doelen, to which belong
the brick towers, black steeples, and carillons
before mentioned. Where, too, is to be found
doctrine of pure evangelical tint. Near the
Jews' quarter is the great Moses uns Aarons
Kerke, where those of the old religion have
their grande messe every Sunday, with full
orchestra, and great pomp and circumstance.
There is the synagogue, with long Hebrew
inscription over the door; and there is a host
of minor temples, dedicate to every hue and
shade of doctrine. From the same source I
gather, that in the matter of preachers, I
may have my choice of Spyker—thus
irreverently set down,—of Lesly, of Van Kampfen,
of Meulen, and many more besides. Under
which, I ask again, Bezonian, am I to sit?
Who shall decide betwixt Spyker and his
brethren? What if I go round them
impartially, or enter at the first open door I come
to, and trust to that interior being a pattern
for the rest? Therefore do I take the road
across the Grand Platz—of which Hollanders
are mightily proud, but which, on the true
faith of a Christian, hath no greater
comprehension than a moderately-sized yard—aiming
at the porch of the New Kerke just
opposite; not to be attained, however, without
knowledge of another feature of the
country's economy; for, on turning my eyes
to the ground, to note the peculiar paving, of
a smooth and grateful order, the prospect is
shut out by four huge black brushes, held
out by four arms quite as black. To my
surprise, I find myself attended by a whole
army of gentlemen connected with the
shoeblack interest, each bearing with him the
instruments of his profession, and preferring
his claim in low menacing accents. By the
aid of signs, I imperfectly convey to them my
regret at not being able to avail myself of
their good-natured assistance. I am
answered with more angry growling and fierce
gesticulation of brushes, together with a
purpose undisguised, of waiting on me to the
church door. I find myself gradually working
up to redness and to wroth, and unhappily
allow a popular English imprecation to
escape. Instantly, one of the following,
gifted with a turn for foreign languages,
addresses me in my own native tongue.
"Clean de boots, clean de boots," says he,
many times over; "Clean de honor's boots
beautiful," says he, perseveringly; the others
hearkening with wonder to their brother's
great gift. For long after, I am to have that
raven's croak sounding hoarsely in my ear;
when, after wandering through many alleys,
I emerge unconsciously on the Platz, gazing
dreamily at the huge palace, I am cruelly
awakened by the hateful burden, " Clean de
boots beautiful, oh! " So that I am driven,
at last, to go round by private ways, and
inconvenient routes, all to avoid this crying
nuisance. Was it too sinful to pray many
times over, that the grave of the nuisance's
father might be defiled? The whole Dutch
world is perpetually having its leathers
made resplendent at the hands of these
burrs; and once I saw a whining mendicant
who had solicited an alms of me but ten
minutes before, with his foot up, and
submitted to one of the lacquering fraternity.

A great waste of unspotted snow—
unspotted whitewash, that is, without fleck or
stain—arched vaulting overhead, pure white
also, forming a sky of pure whitewash; huge
swollen pillars of glaring whitewash, which
no three men could span (who had best not
try such experiment, the guardians looking
carefully to this purifying element); whitewash
to the right, to the left, down the
middle, in perspective; this is the favourite
tone of the Nieuwe Kerke, and mostly of
every other kerke in the country. It is as
though it had been snowing within the
sacred edifices. There is a craving for the
whitening fluid. They thirst for it,
ecclesiastically, through the length and breadth
of the land; and at short intervals, periodically
—when the bloom is beginning to turn,
and vigilant eyes have noted a few specks
—a rush is made for the pails; ladders of
prodigious extension are brought in; men in