confiding householder slept, and the scene
he woke to, need not be described here. At
infinite cost must our Dutchman have pile
after pile driven down; the horrid sludgy
work must go on for weeks, the greedy morass
must swallow up its proper complement of
Norwegian stakes. How father o' family, at
either side, may relish such livelong music,—
reiterated strokes making their own proper
tenements quiver,—may be conceived by
such as fill the respectable functions of the
character near home. This is certain: that,
in most cases, what is done underground,
before a single stone is laid, mostly exceeds
in cost that of the whole structure itself.

Touching that travelling water which
journeys down lazily from Haarlem, and for
which fathers of families are charged so
heavily: I have a little fact in my memory
which may come in very fairly here.

One fresh morning I hear the carillons
running riot with those extemporaneous
tunes before spoken of; discoursing the
Fish'oman of Naples, especially, with the usual
disjointed and spasmodic treatment. Oh,
should Auber, most vivacious composer,
have been but sojourning hard by, and been
woke betimes by this foul massacre of his
own Fish'oman, he might have conveniently
sat for portrait of the Enraged Musician!
Where would his periwig have flown to?
But this, by the way, I am given to understand,
that this is a day of singular importance:
a great day: a glorious day: whereon
every man's heart should be glad. No other
than the birthday of some royal twig— a twig
of the noble Orange tree. I fancy it is connected
with the repulsive physiognomy, the
terrible nasal development that looks at me
from the guilder-pieces. It was, indeed, the
natal day of an illustrious personage. Signs
of excitement in the streets. Population,
mainly the unwashed, hurrying in one direction.
Landlord comes in smiling, twisting
his little person painfully, and insinuates
that it would be as well that I should go
forth and see the show. For the Heer should
know that it is a great day— a very great
day- illustrious personage— the whole
garrison under arms, and at this moment
actually gathered in the Grand Platz. Such an
opportunity for beholding the military
resources of the country on a grand scale may
not occur again: so I saunter out towards
the Grand Platz. Here is great influx of
population, mostly gathered in the centre,
round the Chasse Testimonial, and devouring
greedily with their eyes a most surprising
vision. For, lo, the Chasse Testimonial has
been made to run, for this festival day only
—not wine, nor with milk nor honey, but with
real water! There it is running from four
little spigots: real, drinkable water, filling
up the little basin below. Rejoice and be
glad, O ye burghers and wives of burghers!
For this is a great day—a wonderful day—
on which are playing Les Grands Eaux, or
Great Versailles Waterworks! Crowd
hither profusely with your pails, all ye little
Dutchwomen, and fill them at free charge at
the Chasse Testimonial! See how it trickles
from the spigots! and the men of the town
standing by, take pipes from their mouths,
and gaze with lack lustre eyes at the
wonderful dispensation. But, after all, it is only
for a short span; so he had best take the
goods the gods provide him without a
moment's delay. For, coming by that way in the
evening, I find that the fount is still there, but
the waters are gone. It is truly something to
rejoice and make merry at, this noble water
distribution. But the schouts are busy clearing
the open space, preparatory to the grand
military manoeuvres now about to take place.
The whole garrison to be under arms. The
horse, foot, and dragoons, with perhaps the
Light Chevaux Marins; with perhaps sham
battle, retreat and pursuit, the Chasse
Testimonial being the point of attack. Great treat
for the amateur in such matters.

They are at hand, the horse, foot, and
Chevaux Marins. These must be the
Chevaux Marins in front, the ungainly fellows
on the plough-horses, who advance with such
pride, in their ill-fitting blue garments; but
no more in number than some thirty or
forty; which surely is but a small complement
of that important military arm.
Unprepossessing individuals, jolting heavily on
their beasts, the ill-made garments jolting also
—loosely as they jolt. So they jolt on, and
take up position, those wonderful Chevaux
Marins, making place for the army (in
theatrical phrase), now defiling magnificently
—regular supernumeraries, carrying their
arms very much after the fashion of the
fighting gentlemen of the stage. With a
tinge of the militia aspect, suggestive of the
cart and of the plough; with a raw potage
aspect about the chins and cheek-bones.
Shocking tailor's work here also; the loose
blue clothing, wherein lodgings might be
conveniently let, and so ill-fashioned that
you would have thought that some of
Nature's journeymen had them, and not made
them well, they imitated humanity's shape
so abominably.

Horse and foot being now on the ground,
and disposed, facing one another, there is a
lull and sudden pause. Expectation, clearly,
of some one to arrive; the Great Panjandoram
of the occasion, whoever he may be.
I note the officers of the line especially, as
strangely resembling the gentlemen serving
in that stage army before alluded to, who
appear always in full regimentals in the
morning and in private life generally. Smooth
faced men, for the most part, these Dutch
officers; and, where moustaches are to be
seen, they are not trained to graceful twists
and wavy lines, like those of our French
braves; but have a straggling, ragged growth,
as if the proprietor had been unmindful
of shaving these last few days. Perhaps