a calm sweet reverie, and can understand how a race which has had such a landscape before its eyes for centuries, has laid aside its natural impetuosity for the phlegmatic character of the Dutch.
There are, however, few who have circumnavigated this sea; probably not ten persons in Holland; it is in truth one of the most difficult and dangerous passages. On on ordinary map, nothing looks more easy; but there are banks of sand extending on all sides, and leaving a very narrow channel between them. If a mistake occurs in steering, or a blast of wind throws the vessel on to one of these banks, all is lost. Sad stories are told by sailors, and the wrecks lying about the coast shew plainly the perils of the voyage. A French writer, who is also an artist — M. H. Havard — undeterred by these difficulties, determined to visit the ruins of the old towns before decay had effaced the remembrance of former capitals, like Medemblik and Stavoren, and his "Voyage aux Villes Mortes du Zuiderzée" presents us with an interesting account of these out-of-the-world places.
His first object was to choose a suitable boat, drawing very little water, and yet sufficiently commodious to hold six persons, and to carry provisions for twenty-five days. With the exception of bread and a few fresh vegetables, no dependence can be placed on the resources of the country. Water even must be taken, for throughout the north of Holland it has a most objectionable salt flavour, and is injurious to those unaccustomed to its use. It was no easy task to find a captain, but at length one who had bever been, but had all the desire, was found. "With the help of God and a good wind," said he, "we shall prosper. I make two conditions: to be the judge of the weather, and not start when it is bad; and not to work on Sunday."
The crew was of very modest proportions, composed of the captain, his wife, a boy, and a sailor; all were young and agile, and sufficed to handle the little craft. They lived a curious existence, rarely going on land, never sleeping there, but preferring to keep to the waters. The centre of the boat was divided into three compartments; one for a dining-room, which was adorned with old tapestry, a carpet, four chairs, and a table; silver and glass shone from some shelves, and by degrees M. Havard's sketches were hung, as taken, on the walls. The second served as a kitchen; and in the third two hair mattresses were spread on boards, and made admirable beds; the crew were lodged fore and aft. There are few spectacles more striking than the sea on a lovely summer's night, and on the Zuider Zee, nature seems to reach perfection of beauty. Our author is enthusiastic in his admiration, and assures us that such a sight can never be forgotten: the rippling waters reflected the stars in their pearly tints, while three or four lighthouses glowed on the scene with rosy tints. The captain promised us fine weather on the morrow, but he was mistaken; on awaking, the boat was rocking violently, the wind blew furiously through the ropes, and the rain flooded the deck. "It is well," said he, "that we got into port last night, or we should have been wrecked on the Lady's Sandbank; the ropes have been broken like a bit of thread, and the flagstaff is in three pieces." But with these little variations the voyage was successful and pleasant; and when the time for parting came, all were sorry to bid adieu, thanks to mutual concessions and similarity of feeling.
One of the prettiest as well as most curious of towns is that of Hoorn. Landing at the pier, which is commanded by a picturesque old tower, a worthy study for the artist, the traveller finds himself in a clear basin of water, bordered by masses of shrubs, large trees, and flowers. Over these peep the belfries and gables of the houses. All are old and striking, covered with carvings and bas-reliefs, the pointed roofs finishing with a spiral staircase, to give a view over the sea. Everywhere are wide porches and granite steps: sculptured wood and chiselled stone alternate with bright-coloured bricks, giving a character of gaiety and freshness, which contrasts singularly with their great age and old-world forms. It seems ridiculous to traverse such streets in modern costume; the wide beaver hat and feather, military boots, and a rapier at the side, would be more in keeping. There are, alas, but few to frequent these deserted streets. Formerly, Hoorn covered the sea with its merchant vessels; a thousand carts, bringing mountains of cheese weekly, appeared at its market; whilst the yearly fair of cattle attracted multitudes of strangers from France, Germany, and the north.
The walls and deep ditch which defended the town still remain, some of the towers are standing, and the rampart is converted into a promenade, covered with trees and gardens. The two gates are magnificent in size and details. One named the Koepoort, or Cowgate, testifies to the
