is extraordinary excitement, and this is what
is to be seen:

In the middle of the throng, four
munificent gentlemen, in white breeches and great
boots, mounted on strong black cobs (progenitors,
doubtless, of Barclay and Perkins' dray-
horses), are quaffing beer from glass-mugs.
The crowd look on admiringly at the
beer-quaffing; they can see that the four
noble gentlemen are athirst, and have
ridden long and wearily, being covered
with dust, and having no end of cobwebs
in their munificent throats. These are the
Corinthian organisers of the festival; and,
about them, are their temperance musicians,
who have had to trudge it, and to blow and
thump it proudly, as they came through each
village. No doubt, these are weary and
footsore; but are finding comfort in the glass-
mug. They are only at the beginning of the
blowing and of their thumping. They are in
a sort of temperance uniform, too,—Lincoln
green, gilt buttons, braid, and French kepis,—
which the surrounding crowd exceedingly
admire, gazing at them thoughtfully as they
imbibe hugely from the glass-mugs. Most
specially do they admire the four munificent
gentlemen on the coal-black cobs. A great day
for the country altogether, these appear to
think. A day of joy and exceeding gladness.

Wandering away in the other direction,
having seen my fill of this soul-stirring
spectacle, I find means to divert the
intervening hours in some capital studies of Dutch
heads and figures which offer themselves of
their own proper motion. Old Woman's Head
framed in a Window—good; Boor Lighting
his Pipe over the Fire, seen through door
half-open—plainly after Ostade. Towards
two o'clock I am on the road leading out of
the city, which, in truth, needs no fingerpost
to tell that this is the road to Tivoli
Gardens; for the town seems to have thought
of emptying itself Tivoliwards, pouring
itself out in a steady stream towards that al
fresco place of amusement. I can see father
o' family here, again, in but too many
instances without family, linked affectionately
with other fathers o' family. Such
things are but so many ugly restraints on
free and cheerful conviviality. How can the
worthy man swill himself into oblivion, and
drown dull care socially, with his dear
matrimonial pledges (to say nothing of the partner
of his joys) sitting opposite? They are best at
home, clearly. Other fathers o' family—
grievously pecked of hens at home—are being
led along meekly by fat and lusty wives and
a body-guard of chubby monsters. Sorry
spectacle, indeed! Not that there is any lack
of those who sweeten for us the pilgrimage
through life, There are positive troops of
bouncing creatures ready to sweeten any one's
pilgrimage—that they look inanely to the
right, and grin;—and look inanely to the left,
and grin;—grin at you, grin at me, and would
grin at themselves, if they could; with whom
walk sweethearts, brothers, guardians, and
elderly female relations.

A cloud of Dutch clerks, Dutch shopmen,
Dutch rabble, and Dutch quality on the
road! A tolerably silent cloud!—a cloud
that scatters, and leaves a contingent at
every drinking house along the way-side.
How should your Dutchmen trudge that mile
or so without something to keep life in him.
On these dusty days, the cobwebs do gather
so terribly in his throat!

This must be Tivoli—this gateway with
the tawdry flags flying—where the crowd is
gathered pretty thickly; where, too, you must
cross a bridge over a ditch filled high with
stagnant green ditch-water, by way of moat.
I can see that the whole thing—the grand
Tivoli Garden—rises out of the green
ditch-water; that the institution is, as it were, with
a garter of green stagnation. The green
garter is never seen to stir—lies in its bed
all day and all night long—and leaves on the
wall-side and stone pillars of the gate pleasing
patterns in green slime. This is the first
al fresco glimpse—most inspiring, truly.
However, over the bridge we go—cheerily
enough—with the tawdry flags waving over
head, and sundry tawdry festooning waving,
too. Hi for sport and revelry! Enter Mirth
and all his train, Laughter holding both his
sides! Why should we be melancholy, boys!
Why, indeed, with such good things in store.
Pay your money here. One guilder, if you
please, to one of the noble gentlemen
dismounted from his cob. Dazzling vision, as
we enter the Tivoli Garden. Astounding
preparation! The noble gentlemen have spared
nothing, indeed. Here we have a second
bridge, painted al fresco,—richest red and
yellow, and second stagnation below. Wheels
within wheels—green garter within green
garter. Wildernesses of growing vegetation
about stunted Noah's Ark trees, shooting up
like weeds. Grass unmown—walk unweeded.
Cross over the bridge—more gaudy
streamers and festooning; and here we are in
the open space, in front of the cabaret or
drinking-house, among ranges of chairs and
rude tables, and ruder benches, set together
in a hopeless sort of entanglement. Thus,
a weary man might help himself to a chair,
and with the action uplift a table and bench,
and other chairs, with which its legs were
someway interwoven. Here, in that drinking-
house, you reached the bottom of the whole
entertainment—Tivoli Gardens, munificent
gentlemen, on cobs, and all! Here was the
charity, the amusement, the high festivity, the
fun, fast and furious, within the measure
of a flask of schiedam!

Thus you get at the secret—voilà, le mot!
as the Frenchmen have it—scrape your
Dutchman, and your nails will be broken on
the hoops and staves of a wine-cask.

Seated on the disentangled stool, I look
about and take the bearings of the place. The
Tivoli Cabaret, as has been said, at the centre