"D. G. Rossetti?" I enquired of myself—"why, I never heard of him. Who is he? and what kind of pictures does he paint?"
Thereupon I fell into a reverie over the announcement I had seen, and gradually and convincingly a strange presagement came to me that some day, not very far off, I should not only meet and know this man, but even be closely associated with him in his profession.
Months elapsed; summer began to wane, and I to make preparation for my annual fortnight's holiday. I had a great desire for a long time to see something of Holland, and by dint of economy I had managed to put sufficient together to enable me to realise it. I also determined, if the limited time of my interval allowed, to obtain a glimpse of the Rhine. I got to London, and, with the aid of a Bradshaw, made out the route to Harwich. There I took the steamboat, and after a night's voyage, which was somewhat rough and tempestuous, I landed at an early hour in the morning in the Boompjes at Rotterdam.
To get something to eat was my first consideration, and after wandering vainly about the streets for some time in search of a place of refreshment, I at last espied a coffee-tavern. Unaware that Dutch was the prevailing language of the greater part of the inhabitants of Rotterdam, I fancied there would be no difficulty in making known my wants with the few phrases of French and German that I had managed to pick up, but
