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diff --git a/36765-h/36765-h.htm b/36765-h/36765-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4fd2108 --- /dev/null +++ b/36765-h/36765-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4632 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Further Adventures of O’Neill in Holland, by Cuey-Na-Gael. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + +h1 {line-height: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +h2 {font-size: 110%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;} + +p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + +p.tp {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 140%; + margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} + +.permission {text-align: justify; margin-top: 6em; margin-left: 50%; + max-width: 18em;} + +hr.l1 {width: 100%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; border-top: solid 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both; color: black;} +hr.l2 {width: 25%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em; margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + +table {max-width: 26em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} +td.col1 {text-align: left; vertical-align: top; padding-left: 1.2em; + text-indent: -1.2em; padding-right: 1em; width: 20em;} +td.col2 {text-align: left; vertical-align: top; padding-left: 1.2em; + text-indent: -1.2em; width: 20em;} +td.col3 {text-align: left; vertical-align: top; padding-right: 1em; + white-space: nowrap;} +td.col4 {text-align: left; vertical-align: top;} +td.col5 {text-align: center; padding-top: .6em; font-variant: small-caps;} +td.col6 {text-align: left; vertical-align: top; padding-left: 1.2em; + text-indent: -1.2em;} +td.col7 {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 94%; font-size: 60%; + text-align: right; color: gray; letter-spacing: 0; + font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;} + +.blockquot {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-weight: bold; + margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +.sidenote {padding-bottom: .3em; padding-top: .3em; + padding-left: .3em; padding-right: .3em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 0; + font-size: 70%; color: black; background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal; font-style: normal;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px; padding: 1em; max-width: 22em;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.lg {font-size: 160%;} + +.i4 {text-indent: 4em;} + +.ri1 {float: right; margin-right: 0em;} +.ri2 {float: right; margin-right: 3em;} +.ri3 {float: right; margin-right: 6em;} + +strong {font-weight: inherit; letter-spacing: .3em; margin-left: .2em; margin-right: -.1em;/* color: blue; */} + +.g {letter-spacing: .3em; margin-left: .2em; margin-right: -.1em; /* color: green; */} + +.adtitle {text-align: center; font-size: 120%; font-weight: bold;} + +.rght {float: right; margin: auto; clear: both;} + +.centered {text-align: center; margin: auto; display: table;} + +.r0 {margin-top: 1em;} +.r1 {margin-top: 1.5em;} +.r2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.r3 {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +.r4 {margin-top: 1.2em; margin-bottom: 1.8em;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding: 2em 0 2em 0;} + +.tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + padding: .5em 1em .5em 1em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of O'Neill in Holland, by +J. Irwin Brown + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Further Adventures of O'Neill in Holland + +Author: J. Irwin Brown + +Release Date: July 17, 2011 [EBook #36765] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF *** + + + + +Produced by Mark C. Orton, eagkw and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="581" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div> + +<h1>THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF O’NEILL +IN HOLLAND.</h1> + + + + +<div class="centered"><p>Books by CUEY-NA-GAEL:</p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="adtitle">An Irishman’s Difficulties in +Speaking Dutch.</p> + +<p lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Deze humor deed aan het beste van Jerome +denken. <span class="rght" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">(<cite>Nieuwe Courant</cite>).</span></p> + +<p class="r1" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ingenaaid <b>90 cts.</b> <span class="rght">Gebonden <b>f 1,25</b>.</span></p> + +<hr class="l1"/> + +<p class="adtitle">Ireland, its Humour and Pathos.</p> + +<p>A most interesting study ... graceful ... +bright and readable. <span class="rght">(<cite>British Weekly</cite>).</span></p> + +<p class="r1" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Treffende beschrijvingen van landschap... +Geestig en pathetisch. <span class="rght">(<cite>N. Gron. Courant</cite>).</span></p> + +<p class="r1" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Vol humor en geest—weemoed en melancholie. +<span class="rght" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">(<cite>Dor. Courant</cite>).</span></p> + +<p class="r1" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ingenaaid <b>90 cts.</b> <span class="rght">Gebonden <b>f 1,25</b>.</span></p> + +<hr class="l1"/> + +<p class="adtitle">The Further Adventures of O’Neill.</p> + +<p lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Thans kregen wij de avonturen van O’Neill +te hooren bij een vriendelijke boerenfamilie..., +zijn dwaze ontmoeting in Gouda.... in het +Haagsche Bosch.... en zijn verwarring met +“dank u” en “thank you”.... en Kanapé.... +en de D-trein—het was alles niet om na +te vertellen.</p> + +<p lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ingenaaid <b>90 cts.</b> <span class="rght">Gebonden <b>f 1,25</b>.</span></p> + + +<p class="r2">Published by J. M. BREDÉE, Rotterdam.</p> +</div></div> + + + + +<h1>THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF<br /> +O’NEILL IN HOLLAND</h1> + +<p class="tp">BY<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class="lg">CUEY-NA-GAEL,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">(Rev. J. Irwin Brown, B. D.)</span><br /><br /> +Author of “An Irishman’s Difficulties in Speaking Dutch”,<br /> +“Ireland, its Humour and Pathos”.</p> + +<p class="tp">SECOND EDITION.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="100" height="192" alt="Logo" title="Logo" /> +</div> + +<p class="tp">ROTTERDAM<br /> +<big>J. M. BREDÉE.</big><br /> +1914</p> + +<hr class="l2"/> + +<p class="permission">For permission to give recitations +or readings from this book, application +should be made to the Publisher.</p> + +<hr class="l2"/> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td class="col6"> </td><td class="col7"><small>Page.</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter I.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">Where did O’Neill’s Dutch come from?</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter II.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">Some Characteristics of the Compendious +Guide to Dutch</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter III.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">How O’Neill learnt to pronounce</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter IV.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">An Interlude and an Application</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter V.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">The Wegwijzer on Dutch Syntax</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter VI.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">The Grammatical Caress</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter VII.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">A Gossipy Letter</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter VIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">The Surprises of the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maas</span></td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter IX.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">The Thunderstorm</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter X.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">The Devoted Nurse</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter XI.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">Gossip and Diplomacy</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter XII.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">A Study in Character</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter XIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6"><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Belet!</span></td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter XIV.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">The Day-train</td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col5">Chapter XV.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6">Supper at a <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Boerderij</span></td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col6"><span class="smcap">Epilogue</span></td><td class="col7"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="l2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> + +<small>WHERE DID O’NEILL’S DUTCH COME FROM?</small></h2> + + +<p>We had all heard something of Jack O’Neill’s +adventures in Holland; and the members of our +informal little club in Trinity College Dublin were +positively thirsting for fresh details. There must +be much more to tell, we felt sure: and we had +a multitude of questions to ask.</p> + +<p>Now the odd thing about O’Neill was that he +didn’t like to be interrogated; he preferred to tell his +story straight through in his own way. He had evidently +studied hard at the Dutch language, but +without the least regard for system: and it was clear +that he had been by no means careful in the choice +of text books. Indeed, he seemed to be rather sensitive +on this point, no doubt regretting that, in the +ardour of his early enthusiasm, he had just taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +the first grammar and exercise-book he could lay +his hands upon, without consulting anybody. It +was that curious plan of doing everything by +himself that doubtless led him into the initial +mistake, that of trying to get any sense out of +“Boyton and <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Brandnetel</span>”.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A GREAT WORK.</div> + +<p>Apparently he had kept that “literary find” +by him for reference, and for digging stray +idioms and rules out of, while he added more +modern volumes to his working stock. This would +account for his glibness in rattling off out-of-the-way +phrases, and for that rich bizarre flavour +which his simplest Dutch utterance undoubtedly had.</p> + +<p>But we didn’t know the worst.</p> + +<p>Intentionally vague though he was in talking +about his authorities, we ran him to earth (so +to speak) at last in the matter of “Boyton and +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Brandnetel</span>”; and had a happy evening.</p> + +<p>That book was all O’Neill told us, and more. +Printed on paper that seemed a cross between +canvas and blot-sheet, it bore the date 1805. It +was very Frenchified, and the English puzzled us +extremely. Here is the Preface—or a part of it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The following WORK was, originally, compiled +by William Boyton. After passing <strong>five Editions</strong>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +a Sixth appeared <strong>partly enlarged, and +partly improved</strong>, by <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jac. Brandnetel</span>. This +last Edition was published, at the Hague, in the +Year, 1751.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE CIVILIZED LADY.</div> + +<p>The several particles, of Speech, are arranged by +the usual Order; and Declare with precision; every +rule being followed, with practical exercise. This +Mode, of teaching, being already <strong>appreciated</strong>; +it will not be deemed Essential; nor do we, point +out, the utility of it. As to Syntax; it is fully treated: +whilst, <strong>last not least</strong>, cares have been exercised, +to unite ease with simplicity, accuracy with +idiom, and animate the <strong>Learner</strong>. It aims at +the pupil of <strong>High-Life</strong>, and to acquire the +Polish of the <strong>civilized Lady</strong>.</p> + +<p class="r4">THE HAGUE, 1805.<br /></p></div> + +<p>This brilliant introduction raised our expectations +to fever heat. We had never encountered +such an army of commas before; and as for the +English—!</p> + +<p><strong>Anything</strong>, evidently, might be met with +inside the covers of William Boyton’s ‘Work’.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">BOYTON ANIMATES THE LEARNER.</div> + +<p>The best of it, of course, was its extraordinary +politeness. Every other question was prefixed with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Verschoon my</span>”, and went on something like this: +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Zoudt gij zoo goed willen zijn mij toe te staan...</span>”. +Then there were some plain and unornamental +phrases such as “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Men weet nooit hoe een koe +eenen haas vangt</span>”.—This was labelled ‘proverbial +expression’, and was translated, happily +enough, by “The unexpected often occurs.”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik heb er het land aan je</span>” was rendered +mysteriously: “I have an objection”, “I cannot +agree”.</p> + +<p>That was puzzling enough, and delightfully vague! +But for all that found the phrase doubly underlined +by O’Neill and marked by him as ‘useful +for general conversation’.—</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> + +<small>SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF THE COMPENDIOUS<br /> +GUIDE TO THE DUTCH LANGUAGE.</small></h2> + + +<p>There was something good on every page, as +might be expected from the very preface. And, +withal, there was a steady process of boasting +about its own merits that was most refreshing in +the barren realm of grammar.</p> + +<p>With mock modesty it dubbed itself on the title +page, “The Compendious Guide,” and followed +this up with another title “<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Korte Wegwijzer tot +de nederduitsche taal</i>.” The whole compilation +was evidently the work of several generations of +literary gentlemen, who aimed at the ‘Polish of +the Civilized Lady’ in quite different ways, but +whose united efforts certainly made ‘The Work’ +remarkably incoherent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">POLITE DIALOGUES.</div> + +<p>We all quizzed O’Neill unmercifully about the +Civilized Lady, and read some dialogues with immense +satisfaction. So uproarious, indeed, did the +fun become at last, that our neighbours on the +stair came trooping in. Three of them were Cape-students, +hard-working medicals, whom we never +heard speaking Dutch, though we were well +aware they must have known it. Like the others, +they insisted on a full explanation of the tumult, +and we showed them “Boyton”. They didn’t mind +so much about the Civilized Lady; but when they +turned to the Polite Dialogues at the end, a kind +of shudder seemed to pass through them, as if +they had got an electric shock—till finally they +dropped the book and screamed with delight.</p> + +<p>“Why! that’s nothing so very odd”, said O’Neill, +looking hurt. “I have often used lots of those +phrases.” Picking up the dishevelled leaves from +the floor, he ran his eye down a page or two and said: +“Yes, of course. These things are all right: A bit +stiff and bookish, perhaps; but correct, quite correct. +You fellows needn’t be so excited over nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Read us some!” clamoured the men from the +Cape. “Read us some of the dialogues you imitated. +Go on! Read!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">HOW TO BUY A CASTOR.</div> + +<p>“Oh!” said O’Neill, “almost any one of these +conversations about common things is good enough. +Here, for instance.” And he took the book in +his hand and walked about the room, giving us +first the English—then the Dutch.</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Touching Buying and Selling."> +<tr><td class="col1"><b>“TOUCHING BUYING AND SELLING.</b></td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl"><b>WEGENS KOOPEN EN VERKOOPEN.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">Have you any fine hats?</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hebt gij mooije hoeden?</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">This is one of the finest +in the Country.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Daar is een van de fraaiste +in ’t land.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">Yes, Sir; this is a dreadfully +nice one.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, hoedemaker; deze tenminste +is ijsselijk mooi.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">Just come close to the +fire, Sir; and examine +that hat narrowly.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Eilieve! kruip bij het vuur, +mijnheer; en bezie dien +hoed eens wel.”</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>“That conversation,” said the Professor, “must +have been of immense help to you now in modern +Holland?”</p> + +<p>“Hm”—replied Jack doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“O’Neill,” said I; “Stop! You’re making that +out of your head. That stuff’s never in any book.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NOT MURDERED?</div> + +<p>“Well,” was the hasty reply; “I see this isn’t +so good as some parts—not so practical, perhaps; +but that’s all here. Wait a bit.... Now listen. +Here’s something better. Hush!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Between Two English Gentlemen"> +<tr><td class="col1"><b>“BETWEEN TWO +ENGLISH GENTLEMEN.</b></td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl"><b>TUSSCHEN TWEE +ENGELSCHE HEEREN.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">My dear Friend, I am +extremely happy to see +you.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Waarde Vriend! ik ben +ten uiterste verheugd u +te zien (bezigtigen, of a +house).</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">It has been reported for +a certainty that you +were taken by the +Turks and murdered +halfway between Leghorn +and Civita Vecchia.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Men heeft voor de waarheid +verteld (als eene +zekerheid verhaald) dat +gij van de Turken genomen +waart en gemoord +halfwege tusschen +Livorno en Civita +Vecchia.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">But these atrocities did +not befall me!</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maar deze gruwelen zijn +mij niet gebeurd!</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">You are convinced it is +not true?</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gij zijt overtuigd dat +zulks onwaar is?</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">I am.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gewisselijk.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">I rejoice that you are +restored.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik verheug mij dat gij +heelemaal hersteld zijt +geweest (of a building: +geheel en al gerestaureerd +geworden).”</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="sidenote r0" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">GIJ ZIJT GERESTAUREERD.</div> + +<p>There was a noise in the room at this, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +O’Neill went on boldly to finish the Dialogue.</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td class="col1">“Are you speaking in jest?</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gekt gij ermede?</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">I do not jest.</td> +<td class="col2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik gek er niet mede.”</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="r2">“That’s enough—quite enough—for the present”, +said the Cape men. “We’ll borrow the +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wegwijzer</span> from you, and bring it back safe.</p> + +<p>“No, there’s no fear we’ll mislay it, or harm it. +Much too valuable for that. But—you’ll excuse +us; we can hardly believe you’ve got that actually +in print. And we’re curious to know what kind +of rules those learned grammarians give. You’ll +lend us this mine of wisdom for a few days, won’t +you? Thank you, so much.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ENGERT</span>.</div> + +<p>“And by the way, here are some of your own +notes. What’s this about <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">engert?”</i></p> + +<p>“Oh”, said O’Neill; “that’s a reminder about a +neat phrase I picked up from my landlady. Did +I never tell you?</p> + +<p>“Well. When my cousin came over, you know, +on his way to Germany, he stayed with me a +couple of days. He’s very athletic—a fine wiry, +muscular young fellow, lithe as a willow, as you +are aware. So I wasn’t astonished at overhearing +the landlady and a crony of hers discussing him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +They used a rumble of unintelligible words about +Terence, as he passed the two of them on the +stairs with the slightest of nods, and mounted +three steps at a time, whistling as he went. +There was no mistake about their referring to +him; and amid the chaos of sounds I caught the +words <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">eng</i> and <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">engert</i>.</p> + +<p>Curious to know how Terence’s agility, or perhaps +his swarthy complexion, had affected them, I +turned up these terms of admiration in my dictionary; +and found <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">eng</i>, ‘thin’, ‘narrow’. The longer word +wasn’t there. But on the whole it seemed safe +to conclude from <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">eng</i> meaning ‘narrow’, that <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">engert</i> +would work out something like “fine strapping +fellow and in excellent training”. If that was it, +my landlady had hit the nail on the head. For +Terence had just been carrying all before him at +the last Trinity sports.</p> + +<p>Her admiring criticism I duly entered in my +notes and kept for use.</p> + +<p>Some days after Terence had left, the landlady +was praising her son’s cleverness to me; +and to please her I just said that he was a +wonderful boy. ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mirakel van een jongen</span>’ was +the expression I employed; and I was quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +proud of it. But she didn’t seem appreciative of +my effort, so I fell back on her own idiom. +Fortunately the lad was quite slender, and I could +dwell with satisfaction on the suitability of my +new word.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hij is zoo eng</span>”, I said. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja juffrouw hij is +een engert!—een echte engert!!</span>”</p> + +<p>She received my encomium on her boy with +speechless indignation, and rose and left the +room. You can’t be too careful”, added O’Neill +thoughtfully.</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">BETAALD ZETTEN.</div> + +<p>“Jack,” said one of the students. “I prefer your +own notes even to Boyton. Haven’t you some more? +Ah, what’s this?” he enquired, turning to some +pencillings inside the back. “<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dat zou je wel +willen</i>”, he read aloud, “‘signification doubtful!’</p> + +<p>“And here’s one marked ‘<em>commercial</em>’: ‘We’ll +consider the transaction as settled’: Dutch apparently +something like, ‘<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dat zal ik u betaald zetten</i>’. +Here’s another labelled, ‘<em>not <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">deftig</span>, but very popular</em>’: +‘<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ben je niet goed snik?’</i> Translation <em>seems</em> to be: +‘you’re not quite able to follow my meaning.’</p> + +<p>“Ah! No more? That’s a pity.”</p> + +<p>“Oh I have plenty more,” interposed O’Neill; “but +not here. And you want to read this Boyton volume.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">GEKT GIJ ER MEDE?</div> + +<p>“Let me finish the ‘Dialogue between English +gentlemen’, and you may have The Work.</p> + +<p>The first Englishman says: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik bid U, mijnheer; +laat mij geene onheusheid begaan.</span>”</p> + +<p>Then the other, the man who had been so +disappointed that his friend wasn’t murdered, +answers politely: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik weet zeer wel welke <strong>eerbied</strong> +ik U schuldig ben.</span>”</p> + +<p>Up to this moment the two acquaintances seemed +to have got on fairly well together in spite of +some difficulties. Why two Englishmen when they +met in Paris about the year of grace 1805 +should plunge into a complimentary dialogue +in Dutch, is not very clear. But that there +was a lurking feeling of antagonism in the <strong>gossip’s</strong> +mind towards his compatriot, seems to be shown +by the remark that he now makes to wind up the +dialogue.</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">DUIZENDMAAL VERSCHOONING, MEJUFFROUW!</div> + +<p>“<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mejuffrouw</i> (!) <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik bid U duizendmaal om verschooning, +indien ik heden eenige onheusheid +omtrent U bega.</i>”</p> + +<p>That was final. The returned traveller hasn’t a +word for himself, after he is called ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">mejuffrouw</span>.’</p> + +<p>“Mind you, gentlemen,” continued O’Neill, holding +Boyton aloft like a trophy, “if I <strong>did</strong> try to stop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +too prolonged conversations in that gracefully irrelevant +fashion, I had caught the trick of it from +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Brandnetel</span> himself. You have only to go on heaping +civilities on your wearisome talker’s head, but take +care to call him, just once, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mejuffrouw</span>, and he’ll +have to go. It’s a neat way of saying Good-bye. +I never found the method to fail.</p> + +<p>Some day I’ll tell you how supremely effective +I found that unexpected little turn.</p> + +<p>Why it’s nearly as good as <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Zanik nouw niet</i>.”</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> + +<small>HOW O’NEILL LEARNED TO PRONOUNCE.</small></h2> + + +<p>“I never could quite understand,” said Bart van +Dam, the big Cape giant, who had carried off +Boyton the week before, “how O’Neill managed, out +of such an extraordinary book, to pick up anything +of the pronunciation. For, as a matter of fact, he +<strong>does</strong> get quite close to some of the sounds; and +I can nearly always guess what he is trying to say.</p> + +<p>“When he is talking about that interesting +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Rotterdam</span> street, the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Boompjes</span>, he doesn’t make +the first part rhyme with the English word loom, +and then add <strong>cheese</strong>, a thing I have heard +Britishers do who should have known better. +And actually, I have noticed he can distinguish +<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">goed</span>, <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">groot</span>, <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">goot</span>. That’s promising.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE GOAT THAT RAN ROUND THE ROOF.</div> + +<p>“Some of my British friends at the Cape, even after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +I graduated on English Literature and History, used +kindly to drop Dutch words into their conversation, +either to make it easy for me, or to keep +up my spirits, so to speak. Oh never a talk of +over five minutes, but little familiar terms like +<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">taal</span>, <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">zolder</span>, <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">maar</span>, and so on, would begin to +be showered in, here and there. One of these +linguists had taken me into his own back garden, +(he was very fond of animals of all kinds and we +had gone out to inspect those he had) when he began +to explain the new improvements on his premises.</p> + +<p>We got into a deep discussion on the right way +of draining a flat roof. “Come here”, said he, at last. +“Look up there, and you’ll see a <strong>goat of mine</strong> +running all round the open space!”</p> + +<p>“Goat!” I exclaimed; “it’ll fall!”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense”, he said, “not unless lightning strikes +it. Firm as a rock! Now, isn’t that the right sort +of <strong>goat to carry the water off</strong>?”</p> + +<p>He thought he had said goot in Dutch!</p> + +<p>Well now, Jack’s beyond <strong>that</strong>. Who had been +coaching him?</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A HAS A BROAD SOUND.</div> + +<p>Naturally I turned up Boyton on pronunciation +the very first thing at home—and the mystery +was solved! I was amazed. Boyton excels in teaching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +the sounds. Here is an extract or two from his</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center">REMARKS ON THE DUTCH PRONUNCIATION.</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Remarks on the Dutch Pronunciation"> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">A</td><td class="col4">has a <strong>broader sound</strong> than in English, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bal</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">A A</td><td class="col4">has a <strong>broader sound</strong>, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">aal</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">A A U</td><td class="col4"><strong>sounds broad</strong>, as in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">graauwen</span>, to snarl.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">E U</td><td class="col4">is described as resembling eu in Europe. For +the <strong>falsity</strong> thereof, let the word be pronounced +by a Native, and the <strong>Mistake</strong> will +be <strong>felt</strong>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">G</td><td class="col4">is a guttural letter difficult to an Englishman; +it can only be acquired by hearing it from a +<strong>Civilized Native</strong>, e.g. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">gierig</span> and <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">gijzelen</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">U U</td><td class="col4">No Englishman can emit this sound. It may be +well heard in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">vuur</span> (fire) and in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">guur</span>. Consult +a Dutch Instructor.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">E I</td><td class="col4">This sound is beyond the powers of the unassisted +English Organs of Speech. It must first +be heard from an educated Hollander.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="col3" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">U I</td><td class="col4">It is <strong>improper</strong> to make this identical with +oy as in boy; the native pronunciation must +be followed.</td></tr> +</table></div></div> + + +<p>There you have some of the Rules! They won’t +lead you far wrong, in any case. Then, to crown +all, for fear the diligent reader wouldn’t have +caught the point yet, Boyton goes back to his +favourite “Doctrine of the Native.” Here it is:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Editor places the learner on his guard against +receiving wrong references, and directs him to an Instructor, +or Native, whose Dialect it is, for the sound peculiar to +each letter.</p></div> + +<div class="sidenote">NATIVES.</div> + +<p>Bravo, Boyton!</p> + +<p>Three kinds of Natives he recommends the +beginner to consult. He has them arranged in a +sort of ascending scale—<strong>the Civilized, the +Intelligent and the Polite</strong>.</p> + +<p>The two former classes will help you with the +pronunciation, or with <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het</span>.</p> + +<p>From the latter you get idioms.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> + +<small>AN INTERLUDE AND AN APPLICATION.</small></h2> + + +<p>“So our friend Jack had to ask always for the +sounds of the words. That would be right good +for him,” said Bart, “and should have made his talk +intelligible.”</p> + +<p>“Well of course it did,” said O’Neill. “They always +understood the <strong>words</strong> I used. It was the +applications I made that hampered them.</p> + +<p>“I had great trouble with a chatty old gentleman +in the tram one morning going down to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Scheveningen</span>. +It was just seven—I was hurrying to +get an early dip, and he seemed bent on the +same errand.</p> + + +<p class="r2">Attracted by my blazer and towel he opened +conversation about sea-bathing, and then proceeded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +to discourse on the beauties of the landscape. He +seemed chilled by the poverty of my adjectives, +though I worked them vigorously.</p> + +<div class="sidenote r2">A LOFTY CANOPY OF GREEN.</div> + +<p class="r2">“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Deze weg vin je zeker wel mooi?</span>” he said +at last, looking up at the arched green overhead. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Of houd U niet van de natuur?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, zeker wel!</span>” I hastened to assure him. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik +houd er erg van—Het is prachtig! Net een +tunnel van geboomte—van loofgroen.</span>”</p> + +<p class="r2">Then observing the pleasure my encomiums gave +him, I ventured on something a little more lofty +and poetic. My landlady had occasionally talked +about a “canopy,” which, so far as I had understood +her, I took to mean the vast cupola of hangings +over the old-fashioned bed in my lodging. She +used to say that the canopy was new and beautiful, +and needed constant dusting.</p> + +<p>I had always agreed to this, but never dreamt +of hunting up a word that to all intents and purposes +seemed the same as in English.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Indrukwekkend schoon</span>,” I added. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wij zitten, +als het ware, onder een canopey</span> (that was my +landlady’s pronunciation) <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van bladeren.</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Een kanapé, mijnheer?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja</span>,” said I, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">een verheven canopy, niet waar?</span></p> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wij zeilen onder een groene canopy—verbazend</span>—<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">magnifique!</span>”</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">BENT U EEN DICHTER?</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hoe bedoelt U dat?</span>” said the old gentleman +more and more puzzled, and determined to find +out my meaning.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wij zitten hier, niet waar?</span>” I began slowly; +then pointing to the roof of green over our heads, +I explained: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">dat alles vormt een prachtige canopy +boven ons heen. Zeker wel?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik geloof het niet</span>”, said the chatty old gentleman. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">De tram gelijkt ook niet op een kanapé; +of meent U dat?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">De tram niet</span>,” I exclaimed, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">maar de boomen; +kijk; het gebladerte, het geboomte en de hooge dak +dat ze maken—dat alles zoo schitterend groen, +dat is, mijns bedunkens, niets dan een canopy, +uitgehangen zoo te spreken, over ons heen, in +uitgestrekte schoonheid.</span>”</p> + +<p class="r2">The old gentleman surely was a little dull. He +said, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik begrijp niet goed wat u zegt. Waar is +de canapé? Of bedoelt U soms een badstoel—op +het strand?</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee</span>”, I answered with a deprecating smile; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik +sprak maar poetisch. <strong>Verheven</strong></span>”, I added with +a wave of my towel towards the greenery overhead.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hé</span>,” said he with friendly interest, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bent U +een dichter? Ik had U voor een schilder gehouden,” +he explained with a glance at my blazer.</span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE CLOTURE.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik—een dichter!</span>” I returned modestly. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Neen; niet erg. Op een kleine schaal, misschien.</span>” +<strong>On a small scale</strong>, I meant to say; but I must +have mangled the <strong>sch</strong> badly, for he didn’t catch +the point, and I heard him mutter: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Een sjaal! +een sjaal, EN een kanapé!!</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja zeker, mijnheer</span>,” I reasoned; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">U ziet het +zelf voor U—daar onder de boomen—dat IS +hier een canopy—</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Pardon</span>”, he interrupted, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">dat is niet waar. +Dat zijn gewone houten banken,” he persisted +argumentatively. “En wat bedoelt U met een sjaal?</span>”</p> + +<p class="r2">How pertinacious the old gentleman was! He +stuck to me like a leech. I couldn’t shake him off; +and we were still far off the Kurhaus.</p> + +<p>It was clearly a case for Boyton’s conversational +method.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN INTERLUDE AND AN APPLICATION.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mejuffrouw!</span>” I said firmly, leaning towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +him, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik ken Uwe edelmoedigheid genoeg. +Maar</span>”—and here I added two nice little local +idioms from the rich stores of my memory—“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">maar—U +komt pas te kijken.</span>”</p> + +<p>That told him he wasn’t looking at the matter +in true philosophic perspective.</p> + +<p>But this I followed up, in a more authoritative +way, with the assurance that I didn’t at +all agree with him. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Waarempeltjes</span>,” I whispered +with elaborate distinctness, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik heb het land aan je!</span>”</p> + + +<p class="r2">The chatty old gentleman got off at the next +<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">halte</span>.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> + +<small>THE ‘COMPENDIOUS GUIDE’ ON DUTCH SYNTAX.</small></h2> + + +<p>Boyton’s monograph on pronunciation is his +finest piece of work. He never quite reaches that +level elsewhere; and, if he is destined after a +hundred and fifty years to achieve a name, it had +better rest on his ‘Doctrine of the Native’ than on +his Syntax.</p> + +<p>So <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Dam</span> assured us, when our little party +met in his room the week before Christmas.</p> + +<p>We had all been busy; but busy or not, the Cape +men found time to skim over Boyton’s entertaining +paragraphs, as, indeed, we guessed, from the frequent +guffaws and readings that reached us from time +to time through the closed doors. To night we had +accepted an invitation to supper, before the holidays; +and we were to hear his views on O’Neill’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +‘Guide, Philosopher and Friend’, Boyton,—in +other words the <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">‘Wegwijzer tot de nederduitsche +taal’</i>. Long since Jack had, indeed, got other and +more modern manuals of Dutch, so that he was +supposed to look now with a certain contempt on +his former monitor: but the “compendious guide” +had laid the basis of his erudition, and he had +still a sneaking regard for its honest old pages.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NO DEFINITE RULES.</div> + +<p>What we wanted, indeed, was stories from Jack +himself: but we had exhausted the more dramatic +of these; and to get the fine aroma of the others—there +were still many others—we thought some +acquaintance with the compendium’s syntax was +essential.</p> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Van Dam</span> had undertaken to put us up to +any niceties he had been struck with.</p> + +<p>The first thing he told us was that Boyton had +no clear ideas of any sort, and never laid down +any definite rule. This lent him a certain diffidence +in regard to most points,—a diffidence which +in the case of <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">HET</span> became positive fright. At +the first mention of <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">de</span>, <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">het</span>, and an <strong>adjective</strong>, +he gives as much encouragement as he can.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ALL NOUNS TO WHICH <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">HET</span> IS PREFIXED ARE NEUTER.</div> + +<p>It is not much.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>An insurmountable Difficulty for the Englischman is the +right use of the Particles, especially <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">het</span>. Sufficient rules +cannot be given, E. g. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">het mooie kind: eene sterke vrouw, +een zwart schip.</span></p> + +<p><strong>This is certain, that all Nouns, to which +the Particles, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">het</span>, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">dat</span>, or <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">dit</span>, are added +are of the Neuter Gender; on this account, +the e final, in the Adjectives, when joined +with such words, is, generally, rejected.</strong></p> + +<p>Even this rule admits of an exception. E. G. It is never +said: <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">een snel vogel: de groote paard</span>. But it +is correct to say, if the meaning admits it, <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">een groote +man</span>. (also <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">groot</span>.) A native may be consulted with +advantage.</p></div> + + +<p>When Boyton is labouring under strong emotion, +the effect is always to increase the number of +commas, colons, and other stops.</p> + +<p>His agitation may also be traced in the way +he harks back to any fundamental rule that he +has already discussed ad nauseam.</p> + +<div class="sidenote"><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">DEN</span> IS NOT A PURE NOMINATIVE.</div> + +<p>It is quite pathetic to note how he urges on +his readers to reserve their dezen and dien and +den for the accusative.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>It is good Dutch to say: <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik zag dien braven man +gisteren</span>, <cite>I saw that honest man yesterday;</cite> <strong>but it +is very bad Dutch,—whatever custom +may have introduced in some places; +to say</strong>—<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">dien braven man heeft het gezegd.</span></p></div> + +<p>Take some gems at random.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>N.B. Prepositions are that part of speech, which are so +called because they are, commonly, put before the +words, which are subsequent to them, as <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">onder</span> and +<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ondanks</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>N.B. Most Adverbs may be distinguished from adjectives +by this rule: If a substantive is added after them, +they will make <strong>nonsense</strong>; whereas, being joined +to an Adjective or a Verb, they will make good +sense.</p></div> + +<p>“What I admire most,” said <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Dam</span> handing +back The Work to O’Neill, “is the elasticity of +the rules. He says, for instance, that you can render +<strong>I know</strong> by <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik weet</span>, and on the whole he is +inclined to recommend that way of it. But he +never commits himself.</p> + +<p>“<strong>It must be also admitted that +there are other authors of good standing +who employ the Subjunctive +form where we might expect the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +Indicative and who say</strong> <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">IK WETE</span>, <strong>I +know</strong>.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">IK GRAUW, IK KEF, EN IK KWEEL.</div> + +<p>That’s one of his rules!</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact there is no finality about +anything in these pages. O’Neill, you were in +training for a poet when you took up this book. +I confess I should have liked to hear you going over +your fifteen classes of irregular verbs, on the +model (say) of <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik grauw, ik kef en ik kweel</span>, or +even of <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik krijsch, ik piep en ik lieg.</span></p> + +<p>There is a rich profusion of tenses too in Boyton. +He needn’t have apologized for being too simple +when he furnishes you with four ordinary optatives +and four future optatives.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A BOYTON TO THE RESCUE.</div> + +<p>“You may jest as you like about Boyton”, +interrupted Jack; “but I tell you it’s a book that +has points. Do you know it once helped me to +save a lady’s life?”</p> + +<p>“Save a lady’s life!” said the Professor and +the Philosopher in one breath. “We’ll withdraw +all we’ve said, if you’ll prove to us, now, that +the ‘Compendious Guide’ was ever the least good +to any human being.”</p> + +<p>“Tell your adventure in your own way, O’Neill,” +a boyish voice chimed in; “and shame the cynics.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>We all glared at the First-year’s man—who +was making himself very much at home for a +lad of his tender years—but as he had nothing +more to say, we let him off with a look, and +turned to the lethargic story-teller.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> + +<small>THE GRAMMATICAL CARESS.</small></h2> + + +<p>“You saved life with that Boyton-Grammar of +yours, if I catch the drift of your last remark?” +interposed the Professor magniloquently, as if he +were addressing a public meeting.</p> + +<p>“May I hazard the guess that Boyton on that +occasion was rather a weapon of offence than of +defence?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re right,” said O’Neill. “Offence is +more in Boyton’s line. And he certainly did press +heavily, that day, on a butcher’s boy. You remember +those <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">slagersjongens</span> that saunter about, in +white linen coats, with great protruding baskets +on their shoulders. They jostle and push wherever +they have a chance, and whirl round with their +cargoes of meat, so as to make you start. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +know the tribe. Well, Boyton proved an admirable +corrective to the insolence of one of these +imps.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A HAPPY CROWD.</div> + +<p>It was a day there was a sort of festival in +the Hague.</p> + +<p>From early in the afternoon there was a crush +everywhere. The <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">singels</span> and the main roads +through the Wood were filled with holiday-makers. +Soldiers were parading here and there. Everyone +was in the best of good humour; music in the +distance rose and fell on the air; flags fluttered +from the windows. Look where you might, there +were bright dresses, prancing horses, snorting motors, +and pedestrians of all descriptions.</p> + +<p>I was one of the pedestrians.</p> + +<p>I had been at my grammar in the morning; +and after a long spell in the house had stepped +over to Enderby’s, and coaxed that lazy fellow +out for a stroll. It was perfect weather, and the +crowds were wonderfully well-behaved. We enjoyed +ourselves finely ‘under the green-wood tree,’ till +we were brought to a stand-still in a dense mass +of humanity that was packed along the edge of +a canal, scarcely moving. A procession or something +had impeded the traffic some moments.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">INNOCENCE IN DANGER.</div> + +<p>There was a knot of butchers’ boys right in front +of us. They were roughly shoving their neighbours +about, and seeing what mischief they could do. +Horse play, in fact. They didn’t seem to fit into +Boyton’s categories, either of ‘Natives intelligent’ +or ‘polite’.</p> + +<p>Presently one brawny scoundrel began to throw +stones at the occupants of a carriage that was slowly +passing by.</p> + +<p>I couldn’t believe my eyes!</p> + +<p>There sat an old lady of eighty or ninety, +with soft white hair—the very picture of +fragility; opposite her was a nurse in dark uniform, +in charge of three dainty little children in pink +and white—mere babies of three or four—with +innocent blue eyes gazing all round them. +And, actually, that ruffianly <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">knecht</span> was about +to bombard the group with whatever he had in +his hand!</p> + +<p>Bang went a big mass of something—presumably +hard, from the rattle it made—against +the side of the carriage.</p> + +<p>Happily he was a poor marksman, that rascally +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">slager</span>; for at that short range he ought to have +been able to demolish so fragile an old lady at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +first shot, or at the very least have put out one eye.</p> + +<p>As it was, he only knocked off her bonnet.</p> + +<p>Enraged, apparently, at his poor practice at a +practically stationary target so close at hand, he +picked up another half-brick and wheeled, to take +more deliberate aim.</p> + +<p>The delicate old lady grew pale, and spasmodically +fumbled with her parasol to shield the children.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NEMESIS.</div> + +<p>I thought her eye caught mine; and, seeing +there was no escape for her unless I interposed—no +one till now seemed to have noticed the +occurrence—I shouted, “<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Stop, slager, stop</span>!” +and whisked Boyton’s learned pages right into +his face, taking care at the same moment to administer +a vigorous push to the long arm of the +lever conveniently made by his basket.</p> + +<p>This forced him to revolve suddenly on his own +axis—beefsteak and all; and, as he spun round, +I accelerated his motion with a pat or two from +the ‘<strong>compendium</strong>’. It was all the work of an +instant, and executed just in time. The grammatical +caress foiled his aim completely, and he flung +his missile blindly in the wrong direction.</p> + +<p>As I slipped unostentatiously into the crowd out +of the immediate neighbourhood of the discomfited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +marksman, I had the satisfaction of seeing the +dear old lady recover colour and smile. The babies +crowed with delight, and clapped their hands. They +thought it was a game got up for their special +benefit!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE OUTCOME OF A REVOLUTION.</div> + +<p>I raised my hat and retired, a warm glow of +self-approval in my breast, and on my lips an +involuntary quotation from Boyton: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">De spraakkunst +is voor iedereen onmisbaar.</span>”</p> + +<p>Meantime the brickbat fell harmlessly on the +back of a policeman who, with hands tightly +clasped behind him, was studying a bed of scarlet +geraniums.</p> + +<p>He never even turned, but only said “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, ja</span>,” +over his shoulder!</p> + +<p>Two days after this adventure my eye caught +the following paragraph among the advertisements +in the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nieuwe Courant</span>:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="bbox"><p class="center">“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Stop, Slager, stop!</span>”</p> + +<p>The Baroness X. and her three grandchildren +herewith beg heartily to thank the young +Englishman for his gallant conduct in the Wood, +on the 31st Ultimo.</p></div></div> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> + +<small>A GOSSIPY LETTER.</small></h2> + + +<p>“Don’t talk any more about that grammar-book,” +I interposed. “It’s all very well in its way, but +it doesn’t account for half Jack’s adventures. Now +I can let you into a secret. Please don’t look so +apprehensive, O’Neill! As it happens, I had a +descriptive letter from Enderby just about the +time that Jack was making the most brilliant +progress with his Dutch vocabulary. It gave me +a vivid picture of what was going on in the Hague +when this linguist of ours got really started to +work.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">O’NEILL AS A GUIDE.</div> + +<p>Here are two of these long epistles. In the first +he tells me all about the MacNamaras—Jack’s +cousins, you know—who came across from +Kilkenny, for a trip to Holland. They were at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Oude Doelen</span> when he wrote, and our friend Jack +was posing as a great Dutch scholar and showing +them the sights.</p> + +<p> +<span class="ri3">(From Enderby to Cuey-na-Gael)</span><br /> +<span class="ri2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Doelen Hotel,</span><br /> +<span class="ri1">The Hague.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>My dear Cuey-na-Gael,</p> + +<p class="i4">You would be amazed to see the confidence +with which O’Neill acts as guide to the +MacNamaras.</p> + +<p>MacNamara <span class="g" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">père</span> is mostly buried in museums, +or is on the hunt for archaeological papers, so +Kathleen and Terence are left on Jack’s hands.</p> + +<p>He has been everywhere with them, and has +evidently impressed them with his astounding +Dutch. To them it seems both correct and fluent. +They have only had three days of it as yet, and +haven’t had time to find him out. Kathleen is as +haughty as ever; and I can see she chafes at being +obliged to submit to the direction of a mere boy, +as she regards Jack.</p> + +<p>She was furious the day before yesterday, when +in passing through one of the back streets he asked +her if she had ever noticed what the Dutch +Government printed in front of the surgeries.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">MEN MANGLED HERE.</div> + +<p>She glanced up and, to her horror, read: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hier +mangelt men.</span>” It was only a momentary shock; +she guessed soon enough what it meant; but it +gave her a turn all the same. Perhaps it wasn’t +a very finished kind of joke, but she needn’t have +been quite so fierce about it.</p> + +<p>“You’re cruel,” she said, “cruel and heartless! +Why even your dogmatic and intolerable chum, Mr. +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span> wouldn’t have been so harsh as that.”</p> + +<p>Now it was that little speech of hers that +suggested something to me. Was there ever anything +between her and <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span>? They were at +the University about the same time, and it seems +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span> was a great friend of the father, +who had him down to his place in the country +and showed him his manuscripts. But I believe +Kathleen couldn’t stand him. They used always +to be arguing about the Suffragettes, and passed +for official enemies, in a way,—at least as uncompromising +leaders on opposite sides. She was fond of +saying that <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span> was a standing proof that +mere learning couldn’t enlarge the mind. Once +in a private debate she referred to him as a +“learned barbarian and a retrograde mediævalist.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NOUN HUNGER.</div> + +<p>She was called to order for it, of course; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +her apology didn’t amount to much. She said she +wouldn’t mind dropping the adjectives, but she +would stick to the nouns.</p> + +<p>I believe <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span> was quite content, however, +and congratulated his witty antagonist on +the fact that she would mellow with time.</p> + +<p>We always thought in those days they were +sworn foes, and always would be. But I have a +dim idea there is now more friendly interest on both +sides. And, by the way, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span> has been +carrying on brisk correspondence with O’Neill, +especially since he heard the MacNamaras were +expected. He has offered his services, and those of +his motor, to all and sundry, especially if they +hail from Dublin: so I don’t think he can be keeping +up very much of a grudge.</p> + +<p>But I was going to tell you about Jack.</p> + +<p>Lately I had noticed that his Dutch vocabulary +was growing very rich. He seemed to have quite +a hunger for nouns, and he used to ask the names +of everything. But I have no idea of what he was +up to. To day I’ll find out and write you.</p> + +<p>Much haste. Yours as ever.<br /> +<span class="ri2">Enderby.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote r2" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">KINDSCH GEWORDEN.</div> + +<p class="center r2"> +(From Enderby to Cuey-na-Gael)</p> + +<p>Dear Cuey,</p> + +<p class="i4">I’ve just been at the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Doelen</span> Hotel—and +the Macs are gone! Very sudden I must +say. I suppose Kathleen has got tired of Holland; +or is she trying to avoid <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span>?</p> + +<p>You see MacNamara <span class="g" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mère</span> had written me a +friendly little note from Kilkenny, telling me +that the Doctor—as she always calls her husband—had +got a trifle absent-minded since his +deafness became troublesome, and would I look +him up occasionally during his stay in the Hague, +and give him some advice about the Rhine.</p> + +<p>Well, when I reached <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vieux</span> <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Doelen</span>, the birds +were flown. Gone at six o’clock, I was told—the +three of them—to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Cologne</span>! Quick work, I +thought; so I made a bee-line for O’Neill’s. He +surely would know about this sudden departure.</p> + +<p>And in any case I wanted to get a glimpse of +his new mysterious studies.</p> + +<p>Just fancy! The landlady met me at the door +with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">A ROMMEL.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">O Mijnheer, Mijnheer!</span>” she exclaimed half-sobbing. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik vrees voor mijnheer O’Neill. Hij studeert +te veel, of ik weet het niet—maar het is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +niet goed met hem. Ik geloof</span>”, and here her voice +sank to a horrified whisper, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">dat hij een beetje +kindsch geworden is; want hij heeft speelgoed +gekocht, en hij maak overal zoo een rommel.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, juffrouw</span>,” I strove to explain, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer +studeert natuurlijk.</span>”</p> + +<p>But she persisted, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Oh mijnheer! studeeren is +het niet. Hij ziet het scherm voor een kachel aan, +en verknoeit alles. Ik ben zoo bang, zoo benauwd! +Ik durf het huis niet uit, van Maandag af al!</span>”</p> + +<p>Rather flustered by all this, I promised to call +the doctor if it were necessary; then climbed up +the stairs to O’Neill’s door.</p> + +<p>All was still. I knocked and entered. What a sight +met my eyes! Indeed it was enough to astonish +more experienced people than the landlady.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">HOME-MADE BERLITZ.</div> + +<p>Neatly fastened on one side of the table was a +model train, engine and all. Beside it was a toy +house, with yard, garden, and stiff wooden trees. +Then there was a bit of a doll’s room with a +kitchen stove. And verily to every one of these +articles there was a label affixed.</p> + +<p>There sat the student, pen in hand, with a +dictionary and a gum-bottle at his elbow. Snippets of +paper littered his writing-desk and the floor around.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +His unfinished lunch (labelled too) looked down +reproachfully from a pile of books built on the table.</p> + +<p>Over the gorgeous screen that hid the hearth +a conspicuous card was hung, bearing the mystic +inscription, “What ought to be here—<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Kachel.</span>”</p> + +<p>No wonder the careful hospita was upset. It +would have been hard to say whether the apartment +was more like a museum or an auction room.</p> + +<p>He glanced up with a sort of blush when I came +near; but raised his hand to enjoin silence, as +he found the word he was in search of, and wrote +it down.</p> + +<p>Half expecting to see prices marked, I examined +some of the labels.</p> + +<p>Nearly every thing had its Dutch name gummed +on to it, such as ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">spiegel lijst</span>,’ ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">behangsel</span>,’ ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">schotel +of bakje</span>,’ and even on his sleeve ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">mouw van +mijn jas.</span>’</p> + +<p>“It’s all right!” he burst forth enthusiastically. +“Doing Berlitz Dutch, you see! Self-taught, too! +Splendid plan. Three hundred words a day. I’ll +have two thousand new nouns at my fingers’ ends +before the Macs are back from the Drachenfels. +Precious few things in the ordinary way of life, +I won’t know then! Eh, what?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">SPOORWEG BEPALINGEN.</div> + +<p>Then it dawned upon me he was getting up +vocabulary.</p> + +<p>“Nouns, of course,” he said. “All nouns. That’s +the secret. True basis of any language.</p> + +<p>“It’s a discovery of my own. If you know the +names of two or three thousand material things, +you can never be at a loss. But I stick in a proverb, +too, here and there, wherever it comes handy. See?”</p> + +<p>He held up the sleeve of his dressing-gown on +which the candid announcement was made in bold +round-hand: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik heb het achter de mouw</span>”, and +pointed to his bread-knife, which was tastefully +adorned with the words: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het mes op de keel zetten.</span>”</p> + +<p>Yes, I saw.</p> + +<p>Well; then he explained, and argued, and tried +to proselytize me. He was making hay while the +sun shone—which meant that he was preparing, +in the absence of Terence and Kathleen, for his +famous cycling-tour; getting on his armour, in fact.</p> + +<p>In such spirits I had never seen him.</p> + +<p>And, I must say, he made out a good case for +his method. It seems he had anticipated most of +the queries he might be obliged to put during his +travels. He had docketed every part of a railway +carriage, and even mastered all sorts of regulations,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +from those of the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Luxe-trein</span> to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Buurtverkeer</span>, +and from the yearly ticket to the humble <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">perronkaartje</span>. +It looked very thorough, and I understood +that he had treated his cycle the same way. But +I have grave doubts! I am the more confirmed in +my scepticism from what the landlady told me at the +door. After reassuring her on the score of O’Neill’s +health, I emphasised the fact that he was going on a +trip, and must practise Dutch by way of preparation.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">GROOTE WATER-BAAS</span>.</div> + +<p>That was worse than all, she thought; as <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer</span> +O’Neill would certainly come to harm. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hij is +zoo veranderd! Hè! Het is zoo eng.</span>”</p> + +<p>Yesterday he had asked her about the print of +a sea-fight that her little boy had put up in the +hall. She said it was <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">de Ruyter</span>; and began to +expatiate on that hero’s achievements.</p> + +<p>But he cut her short with: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Een beroemde +man was hij zeker; misschien de grootste <cite>water-baas</cite> +van zijn tijd.</span>”</p> + +<p>I explained that he probably meant <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">zee-held;</i> +but not remembering the right term in time, had +taken one like it.</p> + +<p>But the landlady could not be pacified.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het doet mij huiveren te denken dat hij op +reis gaat!</span>” she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">TWO THOUSAND NEW WORDS.</div> + +<p>I was not without my apprehensions either. +For he means to start out next week with two +thousand new words.</p> + +<p>He’ll probably find that such hastily acquired +information is not without its drawbacks.</p> + +<p>But more again.<br /> + +<span class="ri3">Vale, vale.</span><br /> +<span class="ri2">As ever yours,</span><br /> +<span class="ri1">Phil Enderby.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. The Macs are gone to Bonn, where +your uncle expects to find wonderful manuscripts. +Not much fun for Kathleen though! And Terence +will be bored to death. Why doesn’t O’Neill +bring him back to Holland and show him +Amsterdam and other towns?</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><br /> + +<small>THE SURPRISES OF THE <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">MAAS</span>.</small></h2> + + +<p>“Well, well!” ejaculated O’Neill irritably. “What +an inveterate old gossip Enderby is, to be sure!</p> + +<p>“Of course I got Terence back quite soon from +Bonn, where he had nothing to do; and I gave +him a splendid time sight-seeing in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Haarlem</span> and +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Amsterdam</span>. I’ll tell you about that, another time.</p> + +<p>But first about my run to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Rotterdam</span>, where +I went one day for a little change I needed.</p> + +<p>The landlady was a bit peevish and hysterical, +and, of course, very bothersome. She never quite +took to the Berlitz method, as I had improved it; +and she became grandmotherly to me from the +moment I made that slip about the <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">zee-held</i>.</p> + +<p>The whole thing was getting on her nerves, +so I gave her a rest. Took a day off, in fact;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +and went for a tour round the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Rotterdam havens</span>.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">FAIRYLAND.</div> + +<p>I had some idea of recapitulating the old ground—the +first thousand words, you know—whilst +I should be steaming around the harbour. But +as soon as we pushed off from the wharf and +went skimming over the sun-lit <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maas</span>, the brilliant +and animated scene wiped the new vocabulary clean +out of my mind for the time-being; and I didn’t +feel at all inclined to dig it out of my notes.</p> + +<p>The marvellous colouring of everything held me +spell-bound. It was like fairyland. Our boat was +crowded, and a man on board pointed out the +sights. That was the only Dutch study I got that +day; for some one began to speak to me in English—an +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Amsterdammer</span>, as it appeared, who told +me that the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">grachten in Amsterdam</span> surpassed every +other spectacle the world had to show; and made +me promise to go and see them as soon as I could.</p> + +<p>I asked him what he thought of the harbour we +were in; but he wasn’t so enthusiastic.</p> + +<p>Meantime it had grown darker, and a steady, +cold, sea-fog drifted round us. It got dismally wet, +as well as gloomy; and the deck dripped with +clammy moisture. We were hardly moving, presently; +and our captain kept the steam whistle hard at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +work. The sight-seers were grievously disappointed; +and one fellow-victim informed me it would be +a good thing if we got near land anywhere, in +time to catch the last train.</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">IK KRIJSCH, IK FLUIT EN IK GIL.</div> + +<p>Horns kept booming around us, every few seconds; +perky little tugs and immense black hulls swept +by us at arm’s length, piping or bellowing, according +to their temperament and ability.</p> + +<p>The <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Amsterdammer</span> and I had gone to the prow, +to try and peer a little further into the dense +curling vapour, when a siren—I think that’s +what you call the thing—gave such a sudden +blood-curdling yell at our very elbow, it seemed as if +we had trodden on the tail of the true and original Sea-serpent, +and that the reptile was shrieking in agony.</p> + +<p>From that time on, we had sea-serpents every +other minute—whole swarms of them—infuriated, +inquisitive or resigned—soprano, alto, tenor;—all +whining, hooting and snorting; every one trying +to howl all the others down.</p> + +<p>Excuse my referring to it, but it was the best +illustration I had yet got of Boyton’s verbs.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik graauw, ik kef en ik kweel!</span>” said one set of +voices. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik krijsch, ik fluit en ik gil!</span>” answered +their rivals.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">POLYPHEMUS AND THE SEA-SERPENT.</div> + +<p>But the deep boom of new-comers swept the +earlier songsters out of the field: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik rammel, ik ratel +en ik scheur</span>”. It was a regular chorus.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik gier en ik piep</span>”, squeaked the little tugs, +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik fop en ik jok</span>”.</p> + +<p>But the first musicians—the sentimental ones—wouldn’t +be outdone. They were evidently turning +over their grammars very rapidly, to get a really +melancholy selection, for in another moment their +lugubrious snuffle pierced the fog like a knife: +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik wee-ee-een; ik krijt; en ik hui-ui-ui-l-l!</span>”</p> + +<p>There was one long-drawn-out sob, that rose and +fell and rose again with such appalling and expressive +anguish that I could have imagined half +the Netherlands had turned into a gigantic sea-serpent, +and had bitten off its own tongue. So +human, too, was its tortured wail, that I instinctively +thought of Polyphemus having his eye +gouged out by Ulysses. The hero, you remember, +did it with a burning pine. One has a horrible +sympathy for Polyphemus, even though he is a +monster and mythical.</p> + +<p>Happily our Polyphemus only gave two or three +of his prize yells. Then he seemed to settle into +sleep, away down the river somewhere.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">CLOTHO.</div> + +<p>The Amsterdam-man explained to me that in +his city the fog-horns were much more musical.</p> + +<p>This thesis was warmly contested by a <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Rotterdammer</span> +who had overheard it, and who spoke of +the Capital with a distinct want of reverence.</p> + +<p>The argument soon deviated into Dutch, and +I lost hold of it; but through a cloud of statistics +and history I observed that local patriotism on +both sides stood at fever heat.</p> + +<p>By and by, the fog thinned a little; and we crept +along to a landing-stage, where the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Amsterdammer</span> +and I climbed on shore with alacrity. We lost +our way at first, and wandered about within earshot +of the siren-brood, whooping and calling and +taunting one another on the river; but my new-made +friend stumbled at last on some spot he was +acquainted with; and hastily giving me some directions, +went off to his train.</p> + +<p>After the long Polyphemus-concert on the murky +river I wasn’t in much humour for Dutch, but I +had to speak it at every corner to ask my way.</p> + +<p>In an open thoroughfare—there were some +people about, but not many—near an archway, +I came upon Clotho.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">GLOOM AND MYSTERY.</div> + +<p>Perhaps the Greek Mythology was running in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +my head: but there she sat. Old beyond words, but +hale; wrapped up marvellously with head and jaws +swathed in dim flannel, she gazed, without moving, +on a table in front of her, spread with dried eels +and other occult delicacies. As I approached, to +enquire for the ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">kortste weg naar de electrische tram</span>’, +she didn’t move a muscle. Something about her made +me pause upon my step, and refrain from speech.</p> + +<p>No movement.</p> + +<p>But wait! One thickly muffled hand went out +to some obscure eatable, slowly grasped it, dipped +it in a sort of cup, then, still more slowly, brought +it to her lips.</p> + +<p>Yes. She was alive; for she munched, calmly +and dispassionately.</p> + +<p>The sight impressed me. It was like Fate; or +an ancient priestess performing mysterious rites. +Clotho would look like this, if Clotho would munch +instead of spin.</p> + +<p>Meantime the inevitable butcher’s boy had +joined me. Two of them, indeed, stood at my side, +curious to know what interested the <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">vreemdeling</span>.</p> + +<p>The old lady never winced under the scrutiny, +but put forth her hand again for another shell.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WHAT IS <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">TREK</span>?</div> + +<p>There was a book-stall near, but nobody at it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +as far as I could see. The whole street sounded +hollow; and everything dripped. It made me +shiver to look at the stone-pillars, oozy and moist, +with condensed sea-fog trickling down. The glaring +street-lamps hardly lit up the scene; but they +showed the damp. Polyphemus gave a distant +whoop, as if it were his last: and the Spectre +munched. She hadn’t once looked up.</p> + +<p>It all felt like a dream—except for the +butchers’ boys.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wat doet ze—die oude mejuffrouw?</span>” I +enquired.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ze zit te eten</span>,” was the prompt reply.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Waarom zit ze te eten daar?</span>” I asked.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Om dat ze trek heeft!</span>”</p> + +<p>A snigger went round the company. Evidently +that reply was of the nature of wit; and they +expected something sparkling from me in return.</p> + +<p><strong>But</strong> I couldn’t sparkle.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE SOCRATIC DIALOGUE.</div> + +<p>“<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Trek</span>” was unknown to me. Strange, how you +can be bowled over by a simple word, if you’ve +never heard it. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Trekken—trok—getrokken</span>, was +familiar. That meant ‘to pull,’ ‘draw,’ or ‘wander’. +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">“Trekschuit”—“trekpot”—“trekvogel”</span>; I +had them all labelled on my desk in the Hague.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +But “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">trek</span>” itself, what was that exactly? Provided +of course, the youth were grammatical,—which +I very much doubted.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Zij heeft getrokken</span>,” however, when I tried +it, only raised new difficulties. <strong>What</strong> then did +she pull, and <strong>why</strong>?</p> + +<p>‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Trekvogel</span>’ was an alluring idea to follow up, in +a town where <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan Olieslagers</span>’ fame was universal: +but common sense forbade my pursuing that line far.</p> + +<p>The defects of my home-made Berlitz became +painfully evident. It’s humiliating, when you have +your 2000 new nouns at your fingers’ ends, and +hundreds of old ones; and yet can’t understand +the first thing a <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">knecht</span> says.</p> + +<p>But the bystanders were growing impatient; so—to +withdraw gracefully—I enquired, “wat +is <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">trek?”</i></p> + +<p>It was probably the best retort I could have +made. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, wat is het?</span>” he soliloquised, evidently +puzzled, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik weet het niet. Maar ik heb altijd trek.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik ook</span>”, said a smaller boy; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">in een boterham.</span>”</p> + +<p>Tongues were loosened on all sides. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee; in +een lekker stuk worst</span>,” I heard one say.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee; niet waar</span>”; interrupted a brawny fellow +with a brick-red face; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Zuurkool en spek.</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">A COSY TALK.</div> + +<p>I nipped the unprofitable discussion in the bud by +demanding, as I moved away: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maar wat <em>is</em> trek?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dat weet je wel</span>,” said the first fellow, the wit. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Als je te veel eet.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee, heelemaal niet</span>,” jeered a late-comer. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Kan je begrijpen! Maar als je <strong>niets</strong> eet, <strong>dan</strong> +heb je trek!</span>”</p> + +<p>The crowd cheered at this. He had evidently +the majority with him. High words followed; and +the controversy became general, as the protagonists +in this psychological debate found backers, and +swarmed away towards the centre of town.</p> + +<p>I was left alone, and Clotho looked up.</p> + +<p>She dipped a periwinkle in one of the weird +cups, and held it towards me.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Heeft Mijnheer trek?</span>” Would I join in the +repast!</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik? Duizendmaal verschooning!</span>” I said, as I +quickened my pace in rapid retreat.</p> + +<p>My confusion increased as I reflected that I had +probably been urging my late interlocutors to “define +appetite”—a thing even Aristotle could hardly do. +Naturally the populace broke into parties—Aristotelians +and Platonists (let us say), or into <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hoekschen +en Kabeljauwschen</span>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE CHAT.</div> + +<p>In any case my confidence was shaken in my +improved, home-made Berlitz. It might be splendid +for travelling; but in ordinary life it didn’t seem +to cover the ground.</p> + +<p>On arriving at my lodgings I was met at the +door by the landlady’s son. He was beaming. +Lately he had been working up his English, and +truly had made giant strides.</p> + +<p>“Koot eeffening, Sir,” he said; “Koot eeffening! +Ai hef an little chat.” “<strong>I wish to have a chat</strong>”, +he <em>seemed</em> to mean.</p> + +<p>It was an odd request for a trifling practice in +English; but I like to encourage merit, so I assured +him of my willingness to have a friendly talk.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. All right,” I said. “But won’t you come +up stairs? We have a few minutes before supper.”</p> + +<p>“But—Ai hef <strong>here</strong> an naiz little chat!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, just so. Did you perhaps have a talk with +some one in English when I was away?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; but ai <em>hef</em> een chat.”</p> + +<p>This was bewildering; and as he seemed puzzled, +too, and always stuck to the same noun I investigated +more fully.</p> + +<p>“You talk of a <em>chat!</em>—<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">dat is een praatje, +weet je wel?</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">EVIDENCES OF HUNGER.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee, mijnheer, heus: het is waar. Geen praatje.</span>”</p> + +<p>We were half-way up the stairs now. “Come +on”, I said.</p> + +<p>“Vayt”, he replied, diving into some recess. “Ai +vil let see you.”</p> + +<p>In an instant he was back with something under +his coat. This he produced with the delighted +exclamation: “ze little chat!”</p> + +<p>It was a bedraggled kitten that he had discovered +wandering about in the fog and mewing piteously. +“Vil you hef him? <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Anders, zegt moe, hij kan niet +blijven.</span>”</p> + +<p>“I’ll talk to your mother about the kitten,” I answered. +“Kitten,—that’s what we call it—not chat. +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maar hoor eens, jongen, heeft het poesje trek?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">O mijnheer, verbazend!</span>” was the ecstatic reply; +and in another three minutes he had a saucer of +milk under the foundling’s nose, and was watching +kitty’s lapping operations with a joy as keen as +that of kitty herself.</p> + +<p>I had got what I wanted without any philosophic +argument. There was the proof.</p> + +<p><i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Trek</i> is <em>appetite</em>.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.<br /><br /> + +<small>THE THUNDERSTORM.</small></h2> + + +<p>I must tell you about that great walk we took +from Leyden to Haarlem. That was just after +Terence came back from Germany, wearied with +waiting till his learned Dad would cease pottering +about the museums in Bonn.</p> + +<p>He wrote to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span> in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span>; and urged +that youth use his influence with the University Librarian +to let Dr. MacNamara see the Irish manuscripts +he was so keen upon. Then, if you please, my +brave Terence thought his duties were over, as +far as helping his father was concerned. Taking +the next train for the Hague he turned up unexpectedly +at my lodgings.</p> + +<p>That was at six in the morning, and he banged at +my bedroom door till I was awake.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE NORTH SEA COAST.</div> + +<p>“I’m back,” he said: “And I’m going to carry +you off on that famous bicycle tour of yours. Hurry +up with all those papers and preparations and +things,—and I’ll be round with my bike in no time!”</p> + +<p>“Well!” I shouted through the closed door, +“you may come as soon as ever you like; but +there’ll be no bicycle tour to-day. I’m not nearly +ready yet. I’ve all the nouns from T to Z to learn +yet; and it’ll take me another week. Catch me +leaving this neighbourhood without those nouns! +No, my boy. But I’ll take a tramp with you to +the seaside, if you like.”</p> + +<p>He didn’t wait for my explanations but pranced +off grumbling, and I didn’t see him till noon. He +was then quite willing to fall in with my project +of a long walk—first by the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">strand</span> to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Noordwijk</span>, +then inland through the dunes, and so on to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Haarlem</span>.</p> + +<p>We only got as far as <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Noordwijk</span> that evening. +After a heavy miserable trudge by the shore, and +mostly through loose sand, we were glad enough +to put up at <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Huis-ter-Duin</span> for the night. The sunset, +magnificent though it was, could hardly banish +the deep sleepiness that seized us. Terence, who was +in better training than I, sat up smoking a while, +but I heard him go off to his room before I fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +over. All the music, laughter, and talk about the place, +never in the slightest degree disturbed our slumber.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN EXQUISITE DAWN.</div> + +<p>I slept like a log, and awoke early, with the +sound of the sea in my ears. It was a softly +modulated, gentle murmur that seemed to call me; +and when I looked out, the view was superb. Deep +blue, almost indigo in hue, and calm as oil, the +waves stood high on the sands. Every now and +then a long, knife-like billow would slowly rise up +for half-a-mile or so, poise itself for an instant, +and then fall with a mighty flap, like a wall of +slate. Away out towards the horizon the ocean +gleamed a fairy-like blue and opal; but close at +hand it had a deep, menacing tint that took your +breath away. And all the time those slatey ledges +of water kept languidly lifting themselves and +suddenly dropping, as if they were alive.</p> + +<p>When I opened the window, a cool wind softly +stole in—like some subtle elixir. I looked at my +watch. It was half past four. Fired with the idea of +having a tramp by that mysterious light, I went +off and roused Terence—happily without terrifying +the other inmates of the hotel. He was willing +to make an early start if I could secure him +enough breakfast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">A MORNING WALK.</div> + +<p>This required some diplomacy. Suddenly encountering +a <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">knecht</i> prowling about and collecting boots, +I tried to communicate our plans to him, and +gain his sympathy. No idiom, however, that I +was acquainted with was equal to this strain: +so I had recourse to the language of gesture and +the display of coin. This at last induced him to +bring us part of his own modest breakfast—a +chunk of black bread and a hard-boiled egg—and +to let us out by the front door.</p> + +<p>He kept our bags, however, and a <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bankbiljet</span>, +to settle the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">rekening</span> provisionally, and as an evidence +of good faith. It was a fussy business getting him +to agree even to this, and in consequence I quite +forgot about my dictionary and “walking-tour +notes”—which were strapped up in the bag.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I didn’t notice the neglect till we were far +away from the hotel. But there was no Dutch needed +for a long time.</p> + +<p>It was an exhilarating experience to go careering +along by that weird, threatening sea in the fresh +morning air. The scent of herbs and wild-flowers +on the dunes greeted us when we took a turn +inland: and the colours of everything around us +kept changing with incredible swiftness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">BY THE SUMMER SEA.</div> + +<p>At first we couldn’t keep our eyes off the +mirror-like expanse of water. Its slate became steel-blue—the +steel-blue deepened into purple shading +off into amethyst, while the sky and the air all +about us grew rosy, then saffron, then silver.</p> + +<p>Over and across the rolling hills we trudged, +our spirits rising every instant. Why shouldn’t we +keep on till we got opposite <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Haarlem</span>, then strike off +east, do that city, and return by rail? Why not +indeed? <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Huis-ter-Duin</span> and its slippered <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">knecht</span> could +settle the matter of the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">rekening</span> and the change, +by post; and we should make a day of it!</p> + +<p>So we climbed up and down along the edge +of the grassy slopes, till the tide retired from the +sands a little. There we had a delightful hour, +along the firm damp shore. It grew sultry after a while; +yet it was only a quarter to eight. There would +be more heat yet! Alternately we tried the dunes +and the beach—the beach and the dunes—but +there was no shelter from the sun; and the +pleasant wind had died down. After an other couple +of hours’ toil through the hot, loose sand we decided +we had enough of the coast for the day, and +followed a kind of winding path inland. This was +a regular cart-track at first, and promised to lead us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +to some thriving village where we could have a +rest. But it didn’t. It twined round a score of +scattered potatoe plots, and then came to an abrupt +and ignominious end against a wire fence, on the +top of a hill. No doubt we ought to have gone +back and kept along the shore. But we were too +hungry to think of returning to the desolation we +had left. What we wanted was to see houses as soon +as possible—houses containing eatables and cool +rooms and chairs. Besides, we were as yet pretty +confident of our geographical whereabouts; accordingly +we pushed on for <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Haarlem</span>—as we thought.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">LOST IN THE DUNES.</div> + +<p>Well, it was a great mistake! The map makes +the dunes only a few miles broad at most, yet +we climbed up and down for hours, and couldn’t +get clear of them.</p> + +<p>Once we saw a fisherman at a distance and +we yelled to him. He answered “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">terug</span>” very faintly, +and waved both arms. We hurried to meet him, but +not a trace of him was to be found. Though the heat +was intense, after a while shimmery haze began +to spread over the sky, and there came a sudden +change. It got dark and cold; and the storm that +had been threatening all day burst on us with fury. +In two or three minutes we were drenched. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +was a marvellous display of sheet lightning so +curious and varied that for a while it diverted our +attention from our miserable plight, as we stumbled +on over soaked hillocks and sand. We had a good +hour of this.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NO FOOD FOR SALE.</div> + +<p>In a dismal grove of non-descript-shrubs, we +at last stumbled upon a trifling shelter, just as the rain +was ceasing; and there we shivered like aspens, +till the truth dawned upon us that there was a +faint sound of human voices over the slope. “Hurrah!” +we shouted. “Relief at last—and a chance +of something to eat!”</p> + +<p>Stiff and dripping though we were, we positively +bounded over the sand hill.</p> + +<p>Two or three small one-storied cottages came +soon into view. Rushing into the first—it looked +like a shop, and had the words <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">garen en band</i> +over the window—we demanded pointedly if +we could get food. The youngish woman who ambled +slowly to and fro behind the counter, said she had +no coffee or bread for us, but we could get these +things in Haarlem. There was a good restaurant +there.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Geen ei?</span>” I asked.</p> + +<p>No; not even an egg for sale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN ORDINARY BAKER.</div> + +<p>Very disappointed we retired, still dripping, +and gloomier than ever; but as we left the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">winkel</span> +I espied a group of schoolchildren, with capes round +their heads, dancing along merrily hand in hand. +They were evidently coming from school. Such +bright blue eyes, such plump and rosy cheeks +suggested that food was plentiful wherever they +lived. There must be a butcher and a baker near, +I concluded; and by a happy inspiration I turned +back to the depressing <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">garen en band</i> shop, and +enquired where the local baker was to be found.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Is er een baker hier?</span>” I enquired politely of +the lethargic <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">juffrouw</span>.</p> + +<p>She woke up immediately. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, zeker!</span>” was +the prompt reply. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Net gisteren thuis gekomen!</span>”</p> + +<p>This was all right, of course. Why does he come +home and go away, I wondered. But, after all, that +was a small matter. He was at home now. A +peripatetic baker, perhaps, might be some very +special and clever artist in pies and tarts and rich +cake—and it was the humble, ordinary baker that +we were in search of. I stated this. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Geen banket +baker is noodig, juffrouw!</span>” I explained. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Een gewonen +baker bedoel ik—een gewonen alledaagschen +baker. Bestaat er een hier?</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE BROKEN SIESTA.</div> + +<p>She had meantime summoned two young men +from a sort of den behind the shop, and now +communicated my wishes to them with an interest +and an animation that I hadn’t expected. They led +us rapidly half a mile across fields, and then up +a little lane. The last few yards were done in +good record time, I should say.</p> + +<p>This sympathetic promptitude we highly appreciated, +as we felt now more and more famished, +the nearer we approached provisions. We reached +the baker’s house breathless, and were ushered +panting into a kind of waiting room. At least you +couldn’t call it a shop exactly.</p> + +<p>When the baker came into this apartment (by +the way it was a woman, that turned up—a portly +and middle-aged woman) we noticed that she was +rather dishevelled, as if just awakened from a much +needed siesta. I was sorry, but not surprised. Bakers +are often that way, you know. They bake during +the night, and sleep during the day. Thus they are +rather drowsy and cross, if you wake them up. +She looked both. There was a portentous frown +upon her brow; and really, she seemed somewhat +of the virago type. That made me doubly polite.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Duizendmaal vergiffenis, banketbaker!</span>” I apologised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +with my best bow. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het spijt mij geweldig.—Maar +zult gij zoo goed willen zijn—?</span>”</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">WOU JE ETEN?</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja ja!</span>” she interrupted impatiently; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Waar? +Heb je een rijtuig?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Een rijtuig?</span>” I exclaimed in bewilderment. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee. Ik heb geen rijtuig. Maar mag ik u beleefd +verzoeken of U zoo goed—.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, ja! Is er haast bij?</span>” She broke in again.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wel zeker!</span>” I replied courteously, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Veel haast. +Wij zijn verbazend hongerig.</span>”</p> + +<p>But she was gone, and hadn’t heard the last +remark. In a moment or two she reappeared, fully +dressed, tying the strings of her bonnet.</p> + +<p>As I waited a second before repeating my request, +she grew most unreasonably irritable, and actually +stamped her foot, exclaiming disrespectfully: +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gaauw nouw! gaauw een beetje.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja baker!</span>” I answered. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wilt gij zoo goed zijn, +twee boterhammetjes en twee glaasjes melk te +brengen?</span>”</p> + +<p>She stopped titivating herself at the mirror, +and turning round groaned in a voice of horror: +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wou je eten?</span>”</p> + +<p>“Ja,” I contrived to put in, as politely as I +could; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">als U zoo goed wilt zijn.</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">BETAALD ZETTEN.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maar schaam jullie niet? bent jullie kinderen +dat je nouw om een boterham moet vragen?</span>”</p> + +<p>It was plain she was a good deal ruffled. Accordingly +to appease and conciliate her I smiled again, +and said deferentially: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het heeft niets te beduiden. +Wij moeten een heel klein boterhammetje gebruiken. +Een sneedje brood zonder iets—dat is +ook goed.</span>”</p> + +<p>She seemed stunned by this harmless announcement; +and I deemed it prudent to offer her a +bribe of some kind. The simplest plan was to promise +to pay her well for any trifle we took.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het is een kleinigheid</span>,” I told her—“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">niets +dan een kleinigheid. Maar ik zal het je betaald +zetten.</span>”</p> + +<p>That loosened her tongue. Her natural fluency +asserted itself and appeared to fine advantage. But +she was so needlessly excited that I knew there +must be a misunderstanding somewhere. Accordingly +to remove all haziness I just indicated that +she had failed to grasp my meaning. The idiom +for this I fortunately recollected. <cite>You don’t quite +follow</cite> was one of those choice specimens of local +colour that, by frequent repetition, I had thoroughly +imprinted on my memory.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">YOU DON’T QUITE FOLLOW.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Duizendmaal verschooning</span>,” I said heartily, +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bent U soms niet goed snik?</span>”</p> + +<p>The effect of this well meant apology was electrical. +The woman really became very rude. She +got pale and grabbed at a chair. As we withdrew +unostentatiously, we noticed her springing +in our direction and talking. It was the most +fluent talk I had yet heard in Dutch. She did not +hesitate one instant for gender, number, or case. It +rained, hailed and stormed terrible words—<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">werkwoorden</span>, +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">voorzetsels</span>, and especially <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">tusschenwerpsels</span>.</p> + +<p>Terence and I ran.</p> + +<p>On reaching safety outside Terence asked me: +“What was she angry about?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” I answered, “as likely as not it’s something +out of the grammar. I believe I didn’t use the +right idiom. You have to be very particular about +these things, you see.</p> + +<p>I said <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">vragen <em>voor</em> een boterham</span>, I think; and +it should be <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">vragen <em>om</em></span>. Still she made far too big +a fuss over it: and I’d tell her so, if I could.”</p> + +<p>When we got outside of her garden plot and +had latched the gate behind us, I turned to wave +our grammarian a graceful adieu.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">REPARTEE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Baker!</span>” I said. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Banket baker! Wees niet zoo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +kleinzeerig. Niet zoo kwaalijknemend hoor! Wij +zijn niet tegen je opgewassen. Maar</span>”,—and here +I sank my voice to a confidential whisper, to +make the irrelevancy sound as like wit as possible,—“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">maar, +U weet nooit hoe een koe een +haas vangt!</span>”</p> + +<p>I still flatter myself that the exit was worthy +of the occasion.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER X.<br /><br /> + +<small>THE DEVOTED NURSE.</small></h2> + + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wel</span>,” continued Jack; “it was these experiences +that made me begin to doubt the value +of my Berlitz soliloquy-method. But Terence +helped me to give the system a really good +trial; and he worked as hard as I did.</p> + +<p>It was quite different with Kathleen. When +she came back from Germany, she was keen on +art, but apparently had been moping about something. +And she refused to study any more Dutch.</p> + +<p>That was before the accident, you see. After +that, she was quite angelic and nursed her +father assiduously, and the landlady’s little son, too.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN ACCIDENT.</div> + +<p>You know, of course, that uncle got a severe +shock from a motor-bike along the canal. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span> +who had been prowling around, to give his “chat”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +an airing, ran across just in time to push the +absent-minded old gentleman out of the way. But +the lad was thrown on the ground and badly +hurt. Uncle pulled round soon enough—his indignation +at the motor cyclist helped him, as he had +some vague idea, if he were up and about, he +could get the culprit arrested. But <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span> grew steadily +worse for the first week. The violent fall and the +bruise were both very bad for the plucky youngster.</p> + +<p>Kathleen kept going back and forward, looking +after the sufferers. She said she never could repay +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span> enough for saving her father’s life. It appears +to have been a ‘close shave’, at the edge of that +deep canal; and Uncle nearly had them all in.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE SUITOR’S MISTAKE.</div> + +<p>As a matter of fact, he had spent the morning +with me, telling me about his grand ‘find’ of +original Celtic manuscripts in Germany, and about +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen’s</span> kindness. I never saw him so taken +with anybody! In Bonn he had got wind of these +precious Celtic relics; and, as everything was closed +at the University at that time of the year, he +worried and fumed, till he met some of the +authorities that knew <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span>. Immediately +he had banged off a telegram to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span>, requesting +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen’s</span> private influence; and, to his delight,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +that young man came joyfully in person. Of course +he would! It was too good a chance to be missed. +Indeed it was just the opportunity he wanted. And +yet he and Kathleen quarrelled fiercely over trifles +all the time.</p> + +<p>But I was telling you about my uncle’s escape. +It seems he was ambling along in his usual +oblivious style, on the sunny side of the street, +when he stopped (no doubt painfully near the edge +of the canal) to note down something that occurred +to him for his book. Just then a motor-cycle +turned the corner at a fiendish speed, and was +nearly over him. Uncle is the most helpless of +mortals at such times—and he was stepping hurriedly +into the canal, when <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span> bounded across +the road and pulled him right.</p> + +<p>The bike-tourist must have been a heartless +fellow; for he never swerved, but bore down at +full tilt on both rescuer and rescued, while they +were still on the edge of the water.</p> + +<p>The youthful <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span>, however, is both original +and daring; for he turned the motor man aside +as cleverly as if he had Boyton in his hand.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NO DUTCH NEEDED.</div> + +<p>He either flung himself or his cap against the +advancing horror. Terence says it was the kitten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +he threw. In any case the little fellow did, as a +last resource, try to protect both his dear kitty +and the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Engelschen Mijnheer</span>, at some risk to himself. +The “chat” was unharmed, but fled up an adjacent +elm, whence it had to be coaxed down at dusk +with endless saucerfuls of milk.</p> + +<p>This task Kathleen took on herself, after we +discovered that Dr. MacNamara, though shaken, +was not injured. Nothing would have pleased +you better than to have seen her beaming face +as she brought the trembling little kitty to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span>’s +bedside. She didn’t know a word of Dutch; but +managed to communicate quite easily, by signs, +with <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan’s</span> mother, whom she promised to come +often and see.</p> + +<p>We all assumed, at first, that the little fellow +had escaped scot-free; but, in a day or two, he +was in high fever, and unconscious. He had got +a contusion, the doctor said, and would be confined +to his cot for weeks.</p> + +<p>It was marvellous to see how Kathleen comforted +the poor mother, without either grammar, +Polite Dialogue, or the use of <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het</span>.</p> + +<div class="sidenote"><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">JAN’S</span> INCOHERENCES.</div> + +<p>I grew quite jealous and envious. Here was I +who had been slaving at syntax and accidence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +for weeks, and I couldn’t carry on an intelligent +conversation for two minutes without deviating +into metaphysics, or getting into a quarrel; while +my cousin (who said she hated Dutch) could get +through the niceties of sick-room nursing, and the +subtleties of heartening up the poor hysterical +mother, with the utmost ease and success.</p> + +<p>And I knew for certain that she couldn’t go +through the Present Optative of ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik graauw, ik +kef en ik kweel</span>’, or give one of the rules for <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">gij +(lieden)</span>—no, not to save her life. But she was +never at a loss, for all that. A more devoted +nurse, indeed, I cannot imagine.</p> + +<p>At the crisis, when the little sufferer was really +in danger, she used to watch by him hours at +a stretch, to relieve the helpless mother.</p> + +<p>The serious turn came all at once; and no aid +was at hand. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span> was in pain, and wandered in +his talk, crying out that the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">motor-fiets</span> was hunting +him into the canal, for having rescued a <span class="g" xml:lang="nl">vreemdeling</span>; +and pouring forth such a torrent of elementary +English and Boyton-Dutch as surprised us all.</p> + +<p>I fancy it was, in part, my early translations +he had treasured up; for some of my mistakes +about handcuffs and dogcollars figured amid the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +incoherences; and it was pitiable to hear him plead +for a <span class="g" xml:lang="nl">zie beneden</span> to wrap round his injured arm—already +bandaged as tightly as he could bear it.</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">EEN STUK OF EEN.</div> + +<p>Then he kept ringing the changes on an expression +I must have used in argument with his mother +the day I persuaded her to keep his bedraggled +foundling.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het is geen menigte poesjes, zegt Mijnheer; +het is maar een stuk of een. Heus, moe, laat hem +blijven. Niet bang, hoor, schattie, je bent maar +een stuk of een! Pas op, Mijnheer, daar komt de +fiets!</span>” And so on <span class="g" lang="it" xml:lang="it">da capo</span>.</p> + +<p>So wild and restless was he, the second evening +of the fever, that we had to summon the doctor +unexpectedly, quite late.</p> + +<p>Yes; his condition was disquieting, and we must +get him to sleep. It was largely a matter of nursing, +at the moment; new medicine was sent for; his +head was to be kept cool; and only one watcher +was to remain in the room. Above all, no noise. +If the English <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">juffrouw</span>, who seemed to understand +the lad’s state, would consent to sit up to +two or three o’clock, so much the better. The +excited mother could have a rest meantime. Otherwise +she would be fit for nothing next day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">KITTY GIVES <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">KOPJES</span>.</div> + +<p>But no sooner had the good doctor softly closed +the front door, than my landlady declared it was +her intention to watch all night.</p> + +<p>Kathleen was at her wits’ end. In vain did +she make signs and talk emphatic English in her +high voice, or try coaxing with a bit of the brogue. +All her feminine free-masonry failed to communicate +the faintest idea to the mother.</p> + +<p>Uncle MacNamara, who had been waiting to +take his daughter back to the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Doelen</span>, tried moral +suasion in his own particular brand of German, +and even in other tongues.—Terence says his +father recited a well-known passage from the Iliad +in his eagerness to be persuasive!—But all without +avail. She wouldn’t heed anybody; and she wouldn’t +go; she sat close to the cot, rocking violently to +and fro, and moaning “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijn eigen kind! mijn +eigen kind!</span>”</p> + +<p>The little fevered face was puckered with a +new perplexity at the sound of all this grief and +the familiar voice.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Moeder</span>,” he cried, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">moederr! Daar komt ie +weer! Hij wou me in ’t water gooien. Moeder, +vasthoue, hoor!</span>”</p> + +<p>It was most painful; for my landlady’s impending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +hysterics were making the lad worse every +moment.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A QUIET SLEEP.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Is poesje ook weggeloopen?</span>” he said presently. +A happy thought struck Kathleen. She stole downstairs, +and presently returned with the ‘chat’, which +was purring vigorously and giving ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">kopjes</span>’.</p> + +<p>As she placed the soft furry creature in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan’s</span> +hands, he stopped moaning and stroked it joyfully. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dag, Kitty!</span>” he said with delight. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ben je terug?</span>”</p> + +<p>Apparently he thought it was I who had restored +the wanderer, for he explained: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Geen praatje, +mijnheer:</span> Zat is mine naiz litle chat.”</p> + +<p>Then, exhausted and satisfied, he dropped into +a sound sleep.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XI.<br /><br /> + +<small>GOSSIP AND DIPLOMACY.</small></h2> + + +<p>The strain was over; and the little lad slumbered +peacefully,—until dawn, as it proved. We got +the mother gradually quieted, and at last induced +to go off to bed, leaving Kathleen in charge for +the night. About half-past-one, Terence and I, +growing hungry, extemporised a sort of pic-nic in +the kitchen; but Kathleen wouldn’t touch anything +we brought her.</p> + +<p>It was then I began to notice how grave she +was, and silent.</p> + +<p>But I must say, nobody could be more devoted +than she was to the youthful invalid.</p> + +<p>He awoke rather early after his timely sleep, +but much calmer. And—a good sign—he +had a healthy ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">trek</span>’, which we were gratified to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +see in operation upon ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">beschuit</span>’ and ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">melk</span>’, before +his mother arrived to resume the reins of authority.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE DISCOURAGED SUITOR.</div> + +<p>As we escorted Kathleen to her hotel in the +cool of the morning, we found her singularly +irresponsive, not to say depressed; and I somehow +got wind of the fact that <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span>, who +had motored up to the Hague, on hearing of her +father’s accident, had been prowling about the +<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vieux</span> <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Doelen</span> ever since. He had visited Dr. MacNamara +almost every day; but Kathleen had kept +studiously aloof.</p> + +<p>“I know he likes father,” she said, “and I’m +glad he came so often to see him. Not very +interesting, otherwise! In any case he has suddenly +vanished into space!”</p> + +<p>The evening before, when she was on her way +to my landlady’s to watch by the sick boy, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van +Leeuwen</span> had met her right in front of the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mauritshuis</span>. +But she had treated him with such +stately indifference, and greeted his remarks with +such frigid courtesy, that the good-natured fellow +was really hurt. He had in fact returned the +same evening to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span>.</p> + +<p>Kathleen said she was very glad, except for +her father’s sake. But she didn’t give one the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +impression of being enthusiastic about it, and I +drew my own conclusions.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WILL KATHLEEN STUDY DUTCH?</div> + +<p>On reaching the Doelen, we found a hasty +scrawl from the very man we had been talking +of—<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span>—inviting Terence and myself +to a cycling tour in his neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I’ll go next Friday,” Terence +broke out; “at least, if you’re ready then, Jack. +We’ll have a grand time. Dad is all right now; +and that funny little kid is on the mend. So we +can go with a clear conscience. Say, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, that’s like you boys”, said Kathleen banteringly, +but without the ghost of a smile, “to +go cycling about, enjoying yourselves, no matter +what happens to others! I’m still anxious about +that child. And I do wish I understood him +better when he talks.”</p> + +<p>“As for that”, I interrupted, “I’ll give you +the key to it, in an instant. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan’s</span> reminiscences +are all about my Dutch. Well, I’ll lend you my +diary, and the most entertaining Grammar in +Holland. Besides, I’ve written a monograph on +obvious blunders, English into Dutch. Read these, +now, when you’re tending this convalescent boy-hero +of yours. He’ll understand them, I’ll be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +bound; and it’ll shake him up, and do you a +world of good yourself.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN INTERESTING COACH.</div> + +<p>“What a silly cousin, to be sure!” she replied. +“You forget, sir, I need some one to explain +all your double-Dutch. Get me a ‘coach’ now, a +competent one, who knows everything, and I’ll +give your booklet a trial.”</p> + +<p>“Done!” I said, as we parted.</p> + +<p>And I held her to it. My diary kept her amused +for a couple of days, as she watched in the sick-room. +It roused her out of her depression, and she got +into the way of reading things to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span> as he recovered.</p> + +<p>She couldn’t remain quite smileless; but grew +interested enough in Dutch to demand my monograph +and—above all—the Grammar!</p> + +<p>“You shall have them both,” I assured her,—“the +booklet on the spot; and the Grammar, +when I get as far as <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span> and don’t need to +use it for a while.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t I have it sooner? I’m dying with +curiosity to see that awful book. Or, when you +are there, and any of your friends are coming +to the Hague, just send it with them.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. There’s a ‘coach’ coming up in a day +or two. I’ll send it along.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE DIPLOMATIC EPISTLE.</div> + +<p>I fancied her eyes gave a bit of a flicker. But +she was meek and friendly: so I knew it was all +right. She hadn’t asked what kind of coach. But +she’s intelligent.</p> + +<p>That very instant I went home and wrote <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van +Leeuwen</span> that we—Terence and I—were +starting next day, by train, for <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span>, whence +we should have a run through <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gelderland</span>.</p> + +<p>There was no note-paper in the house, but I +couldn’t wait. So I a penned what I had to say +on a series of visiting cards,—numbering them: 1, +2, 3 up to 10, and enclosing them in a portly +yellow envelope. It was the only thing I had. I +was pleased to notice its impressive aspect, as +that would prevent its getting lost readily.</p> + +<p>For I attached much importance to that communication.</p> + +<p>In it I prepared <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen’s</span> mind, indirectly +and circuitously, for apprehending the idea that +Miss MacNamara was now deeply interested in +Dutch; and was studying it to help her in nursing +that sick boy. Also that, as she had grown much +too sombre of late with the responsibilities she +had assumed, we were trying to brighten her +up. When the lad was quite well, we should all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +do the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Friesland</span> meres, before we returned to +Kilkenny. But not for a while yet.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE BRINK OF A ROMANCE.</div> + +<p>And so on. I hinted as distantly as I could, +that he had motored back to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span> a trifle +too soon. We were <em>all</em> sorry he had left so suddenly. +Even yet, if he would leave his camera at +home—the one with the loud click—and if +he wouldn’t be too exclusively immersed in Celtic +manuscripts, and avoided arguing about the Suffragettes, +when he did meet with the MacNamara +family, there was no reason to suppose that his +offences were beyond pardon. All this in shadowy +outline—for fear he would motor up like a +Fury, and either break his neck on the way, or +spoil everything by premature action.</p> + +<p>I made the haze quite thick, here and there, +on the visiting cards—their form lent itself to +obscurity—and I told him I should see him +without fail within twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>“I might have to ask a favour at his hands +about a grammar.</p> + +<p>Terence was well: the Doctor was well, went +to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Leyden</span> daily to the Library. We expected to +reach <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Velperweg</span> toward midday. Don’t be out.”</p> + +<p>I posted the yellow missive with my own hands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +and reckoned out by the ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bus-lichting</span>’ plate, that +it would be collected that night.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WELL EARNED REPOSE.</div> + +<p>“Tour or no tour, to-morrow,” I said to myself, +heaving a sigh of relief, after my race to the +pillar-box; “We’re on the brink of a romance, if +the protagonists only knew it. A little bad Dutch +now seems all that is required. And we can rely +on Boyton.”</p> + +<p>Queer, when you think of it, that you sometimes +hold people’s destinies in the hollow of your hand!</p> + +<p>However, I didn’t philosophise much, but got +to sleep as soon as ever I could,—content as +from a good day’s work.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br /><br /> + +<small>A STUDY IN CHARACTER.</small></h2> + + +<p>Next morning we were up at dawn to be in +time for the first express. We cycled to the station; +but a row of market-boats, that had reached the +one and only canal-bridge on our route, kept us +waiting till they filed past; and we missed our train.</p> + +<p>“Choost kon!” exclaimed a porter cheerfully, +as he took our cycles. “Day-train choost away—von—two—meenit—ako!”</p> + +<p>“Never mind”, I rejoined. “There are plenty +of day-trains left. It’s early yet.”</p> + +<p>As he looked doubtful, I added in the vernacular: +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wij zijn in goeje tijd voor den bommel; +nie-waar? Zes vier en veertig.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Net, mijnheer</span>”, he replied, grinning appreciation +of my Dutch, as he led the way to the <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">loket</span>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN UNWELCOME INTERRUPTION.</div> + +<p>There were no difficulties there. You merely +had to say. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Twee enkele reis, Arnhem. Tweede +klasse. Gewone biljetten</span>,” and there you were. +And these ‘<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">gewone biljetten</span>’ made the forwarding +of the cycles simplicity itself.</p> + +<p>Duly provided with the forthcoming <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">fiets-papiertjes</span> +we ensconced ourselves in a non-smoker, +and—to while away the time—rehearsed +our Traveller’s Dialogue. That is the system +I had made out long since, but now partly forgotten. +Terence had benefited by my tuition, and +could now keep the ball rolling, with more or +less relevant remarks, whilst I enumerated the +parts of a train, and talked about tickets and towns.</p> + +<p>So smoothly did our conversation run that we +were tempted to repeat it with variations; and +we were just in the middle of as fine an elocutionary +practice as ever you heard, when there +was a scramble on the platform; and in there +bounded into our compartment—just as the +train began to move off—three tourists, hot +and breathless!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE LINGUIST AND THE SATELLITE.</div> + +<p>They were Englishmen,—London shopkeepers +in a small way, I guessed, from their talk. Two +of them, father and son, seemed a bit hectoring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +and dictatorial; the third was an admiring satellite. +For very shame’s sake Terence and I didn’t +like to drop our Dialogue as if we were culprits; +so we lowered our voices, and went through it +to the bitter end.</p> + +<p>Our new companions listened for a moment, +and the truculent father said, “Neouw, there +y’are, Tom! wot’s hall that tork abeout? You +kneouw the lingo.”</p> + +<p>Master Tom—he was about nineteen—posed, +apparently, as a linguist. He knew the language +all right, he said. “It was kind of debased German. +He had picked it up from a boy at school. +It was the sime to ’im as Hinglish.”</p> + +<p>“Wottaw thiy siyin, Tom?” said the father.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” muttered Tom, “abeout the kaind ’v +dai it is, an’, hall thet rot. But no use listenin’ +to them. They tork such a bad patois, an’ hungrimmentikil.”</p> + +<p>The satellite looked impressed. “D’ye tork +’t ’s wull ’s French an’ Juh’man?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Hall the sime to me”, said Tom. “The sime +’z Hinglish.”</p> + +<p>The satellite’s awe deepened. Presently, however, +he spied the cattle in the fields as we sped along.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +He pointed them out to Tom. “Fine ceouws, miy +wu’d!”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE BACKSLIDER</div> + +<p>“Humph! better in Bu’kshire!” replied the +linguist.</p> + +<p>In a minute or two he broke out again: “Lot +’v ceouws in a field here, Tom!”</p> + +<p>“Faugh!” said Tom; “faw mo’ ’n Essex!”</p> + +<p>But the man of humility had an eye for landscape, +and couldn’t be repressed.</p> + +<p>“Ho, crikkie”, he exclaimed, “look at that +meadow an’ canal. Ain’t it stunnin’?”</p> + +<p>But the father came to his son’s rescue in defence +of Old England. “Yeou jist go deouwn Nawf’k +wiy! Faw better th’n this wretched ’ole!”</p> + +<p>The satellite evidently felt reproved for his +lack of patriotism, for he subsided immediately. +But he couldn’t help himself. You might see by +the way he looked out of the window that he +was in ecstasies over the glowing panorama before +him, in spite of Norfolk and Essex and the +contempt of his fellow-travellers.</p> + +<p>Meantime Terence, fuming and in disgust, had +buried himself in the columns of Tit-Bits. The +truculent one recognised the familiar weekly, and +drawing his son’s attention to both reader and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +paper he announced quite audibly; “’E can read +Hinglish. ’E looks hintelligent.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?</div> + +<p>Advancing half way across the carriage, he +cleared his throat, and addressed Terence at the +top of his voice.</p> + +<p>“Do you—a hem!—a hem!—do you—<em>speak +Hinglish?”</em></p> + +<p>One could have heard the last two words in +the next compartment.</p> + +<p>Terence looked up; and I saw by the twinkle +in his eye what he was going to do.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Hein?</span>” he interrogated with a nasal whoop +like a subdued trumpet. He had learnt this at +school from his French teacher and was a profiscient +at rendering it accurately. It gave an unconventional +flavour to his manner—which was +just what he wished.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Hein?</span>” he trumpeted again, with an air of +amiable curiosity.</p> + +<p>“I hawskt—do you—hem!—<em>speak</em>—<em>Hinglish?”</em></p> + +<p>“Ze Engels Langwitch? Yes: I shpeak him—von +leetle bit. You alzóo?”</p> + +<p>“Hi ’m ’n Englishman,” said the truculent one +proudly, a trifle taken aback.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">HE MEANS THE EAST END.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Zoo?</span>” replied Terence. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ach zoo. Ja. Jawohl. +Zoo gaat ’t.</span> Beauti-ful—lang-witch! Beauti—ful!” +he enunciated with painful distinctness and +many twitches of his face.</p> + +<p>All this fell in with the tourists’ preconceived +ideas of foreign utterance. They exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>“You kin mike yors’ff hunderstood, hall raight,” +interposed the linguist. “Were you ever in London.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” answered my cousin slowly, counting +off upon his fingers. “Alzoo—von—two—tree—time—Mooch +peoples—in Londe.”</p> + +<p>“Did you like London?” queried Truculence +Senior.</p> + +<p>“Londe?—No! No—boddy like Londe.—Fery +ugly! Mooch smoke—alzoo fogk.—Men +see nozzing. Mooch poor peoples—No boots.”</p> + +<p>“Not like London!! Why London’s the gritest +city in the wu’ld.”</p> + +<p>“I pity me mooch—for London peoples.”</p> + +<p>“Let’m aleoun, gov’ner,” said the linguist, +furious. “It’s the Heast End ’e’s got in ’is ’ed.”</p> + +<p>“But the Heouses ’v Pawl’mint—and the +Tride?” reasoned the father, reluctant to abandon +the controversy.</p> + +<p>“Houses Parliament?—nozzing!” said Terence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +recklessly. “Trade?—alzoo nozzing! American +man hef all ze trade. Fery clever. Alzoo German +man. Fery clever.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WAKE UP, JOHN BULL.</div> + +<p>That was a clincher. Terence had amply avenged +their contempt of the scenery they were passing +through.</p> + +<p>“Let the bloomin’ ass aleoun”, cried Truculence +junior. “’E deoun’t kneouw wot ’e’s torkin’ abeout.”</p> + +<p>But the shot had gone home. The papers had +been full of “Wake up, John Bull!” of late, and +he felt uncomfortable. Yet though we relapsed +into silence, it wasn’t for long. For soon the senior +member of the trio got very exasperated with a +local railway-guide that he had been consulting. +“Bit of a muddle that!” he cried contemptuously, +flinging the booklet on the seat. “Cawn’t mike +’ed or tile of it!”</p> + +<p>He turned to my cousin: “Can you tell me +’ow far it is to Gooday—or Goodee?”</p> + +<p>Terence replied briskly in appalling English: +“Goodee—I know-not. Zat iss nozzing. Good-day, +zat is <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Goejen-dag</span>!”</p> + +<p>“Look ’ere,” said the tourist; “’Ere you aw!” +pointing to the name of the place on his Cook’s +ticket.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote"><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">GOUDA</span> HISTORICAL.</div> + +<p>“Oh,” said Terence, getting so foreign as to +be scarcely intelligible. “Zat-iss—Gouda. Beaut-ti-ful +city!” And he rolled his eyes in apparent +awe at the magnificence of that unpretentious +market-town. “Ex-qui-seet!”</p> + +<p>“Ow far is it?” queried his interlocutor. “Ow +long, in the trine—to Gouda?”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Alzoo</span>,” returned my cousin, purposely misunderstanding +him. “Yes; ferry long. Long times. +Ferry old ceety. Much years. Tree—four—century! +Historique!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” said the impatient traveller. “But—wen—d’we—arrive? +get there—you +kneouw—?”</p> + +<p>“You vil arrivé,” pronounced Terence in the +same baby-English, “haff—of—ze—klok.”</p> + +<p>“Hawf ’n eour; that wot ’e’s drivin’ et,” grumbled +the Linguist.</p> + +<p>They kept on asking questions and criticising +us to our faces, when they talked together. Our +dress, our appearance, our complexions were all +adjudged to be woefully foreign; and they got +so patronising that I had to put in an odd word, +in real English, to Terence, now and again, just +to prevent them going too far. Imperceptibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +conversation became general; and as I forced +Terence out of his assumed ignorance of English, +the surprise of the tourists deepened into dismay, for +they noticed we were talking more and more +quickly, and idiomatically as well.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">FOREIGNERS DON’T GET THE HANG OF IT.</div> + +<p>“Hi siy!” whispered the satellite, “they’re learnin’ +Hinglish from hus! I’m blest hif thiy weount +soon be nearly ’s good ’s we are!”</p> + +<p>“Never you fear,” said young Conceit. “Furriners +never git the ’ang of it.”</p> + +<p>“Never,” corroborated Truculence.</p> + +<p>But the open criticising of our appearance was +at an end.</p> + +<p>Our companions looked anything but conciliatory +when a crowd of rustics poured into the carriage +at one of the stations. It was some sort of market +at <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gouda</span>; and the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bommel</span> was crammed now. +Finally the guard scurried along, and half hoisted, +half pushed a peasant woman with her three +children into the compartment.</p> + +<p>It was odd to see Truculence rise and help the +little ones in; and odder still to see the children +smile up into that formidable face, when they +took their seats.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A CONFIDENT YOUNGSTER.</div> + +<p>I noticed the twinkle in his eye, however, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +he watched the bairnies trying to scramble to the +window. He was evidently much interested in a +bright little boy of seven with dreamy eyes, who +was bent on amusing himself; and I could see +that he wanted badly to shake hands with him +and his tot of a sister, and ask them their names. +He evidently regretted his inability to speak Dutch; +but he made up for his silence by reaching the +boy the window-strap, with a nod of comradeship. +The little fellow took it eagerly and, after playing +with it a moment or two, slid off his seat and +actually climbed up beside Truculence (the scorner +of everything non-British) and pushing Truculence +to one side, looked out of Truculence’s +window.</p> + +<p>So surprisingly passive was my severe compatriot +at all this that I hazarded a guess, and said: “You +have a boy of five at home?”</p> + +<p>He stopped short clearing the pane for his tiny +companion, and sat stock-still. It might have been +a statue that was beside me so little did he move. +Not a sound in answer to my question!</p> + +<p>Quickly I glanced at him.</p> + +<p>Oh, I could have bitten off my tongue when I +saw that man’s face! It was drawn and white,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +and not at all like the scornful censor’s of a few +minutes before.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN ENGLISH UNCLE FOR <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">CLAAS</span>.</div> + +<p>He continued staring out of the window a moment; +then he turned and said quietly: “I ’ad—a +little fair haired fellow—a year ago..... ’E +was six.... An’ the born image of thet kiddie +there.”</p> + +<p>Here he stroked the kiddie’s head, which was +now glued to the glass in an eager endeavour to +see a passing train.</p> + +<p>“’E used to be that fond of machinery, too,” he +continued, opening a city bag and bringing out +a diminutive flying-machine, a “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">twee-dekker</span>” that +he had evidently bought in the Hague. “I got +it, ’cos it minded me of the things my boy used +to pliy with. But I’ve nobody to give it to.</p> + +<p>May I as well give it to this kid. Tell ’is +mother ’e’s to keep it. Tell ’er that I’m ’s <strong>hold +uncle from Hingland</strong>.”</p> + +<p>I did my best. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Claas</span> grasped the situation at +once, as far as the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">twee-dekker</span> was concerned. +The mother was slower. Consternation and politeness +took away her speech for an instant, but +she soon recovered and put <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Claas</span> through his drill.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Oh mijnheer, hij is zoo bij de hand!</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">DRAM-DRINKING AT EIGHT?</div> + +<p>Then she overwhelmed us all with family reminiscences, +which none of us understood a word of, +but which could not be stopped. It was a relief +to get to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gouda</span>; and the tension of our feelings +was pleasantly relaxed by observing the profound +disgust that mantled the Londoner’s brow, when +after helping the children on to the platform, he +was accosted by a vendor of local dainties, who +loudly insisted on selling <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Goudsche Sprits</span> to the +company. “’Ere’s a Johnny wants the kiddies +an’all of us to liquor up—on neat spirits—before +hight o’clock in the mo’nin’! Shime, I call it.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">WUIF ES, OOM!</div> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Claas</span> had to say ’Good-bye’ to his new uncle, +and we watched proceedings from our window. +The Linguist ignored the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">adieu</span> completely; but +the Satellite manfully backed up the father, and +shook hands all round. A knot of porters gathered +to seize the luggage of the big Englishman, who +stood, masterful and bored, in the midst of the +hubbub. His jaw and chin were those of Rhadamanthus; +but his eyes were soft as they rested +on the boyish figure descending the stairs with +his baby-sister. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Claas</span> was waving a small hand to +his new uncle who had given him the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Twee-dekker</span>; +but his new uncle was not waving anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +to him. So Claas stopped short, and cried +at the top of his voice: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wuif es oom! wui—uif +es, nouw! Je moet wuife!</span>”</p> + +<p>“Wot’s ’e up to, the young rescal?” he asked me.</p> + +<p>“I believe he wants you to make a sign of +goodbye. It’s always done here,” I replied.</p> + +<p>Well, he produced, from some place or other, a +brilliant jubilee handkerchief—he was a dressy +man and had plenty of coloured things—and +shook it with both hands to his tiny friend. And +the last I saw of him, as the train steamed on +towards Utrecht, was, his waving of this silk +banner to the little boy on the steps; the stern +lips were relaxed into a smile; the defiant face +was quite wistful as he repeated: “The young +rescal!”</p> + +<p>Here the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Goudsche sprits</span> seller, in his tour +up and down the platform, approached the burly +Londoner again, and seeing him now in an unexpectedly +melting mood, at once proffered his +delicacies with noisy persistence.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Goudsche sprits! Goudsche sprits!</span> Sir,” he bawled +in the Englishman’s face, holding out a packet.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">HIS BARK IS WORSE THAN HIS BITE.</div> + +<p>Truculence was quite glad of the interruption. +He blew his nose violently on his marvellous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +handkerchief, and turned upon the local merchant +with a glare of indignation.</p> + +<p>“Get along! How dare you? D’ye take me for +a drunkard?”</p> + +<p>“Formidable customer that!” whispered Terence +at my elbow. “Still I think his bark is worse than +his bite.”</p> + +<p>“Not a doubt of it,” I replied. “And there +are more of his kind.”</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br /><br /> + +<small lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">BELET!</small></h2> + + +<p>We got on famously at <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Utrecht</span> and at the +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span> station. In less time than it takes to tell +it we were mounted on our cycles with our bags +in front of us, and ready for the road.</p> + +<p>“This is fine!” exclaimed Terence. And indeed +it was. Charmed by the ease with which we had +got along so safely, I felt a trifle elated over our +linguistic victories, and had already begun to dream +of fresh fields to conquer, when we drew near +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen’s</span> villa on the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Velperweg</span>—a +lovely spot.</p> + +<p>We dismounted to make sure we were right, +and then walked briskly up the avenue.</p> + +<p>The door was opened by a timid-looking servant, +who said: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Er is belet.</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">WELKE MIJNHEER?</div> + +<p>It was the first time I had met the expression; +yet it sounded oddly familiar. Ah, of course. For +the last ten days I had been studying <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">biljetten</i> +out of the railway-guide. There was apparently a +slight provincialism in her way of the rendering +the liquid in the middle of the word, but this didn’t +matter. <strong>There was a ticket</strong>, then. Puzzling, very.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja?</span>” I said tentatively.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Er is belet</span>,” she repeated. The intonation was +decisive; but as her manner was expectant, I took +it for a question, had we tickets? Queer, certainly. +Yes; I assured her we had,—“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">gewone biljetten, +retour,—geldig voor éen dag.</span>”</p> + +<p>She shifted her ground and said, “<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer +heeft belet.</i>”</p> + +<p>Now you know how hard it is to be sure what +person servants are talking about when they say +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer</span>. Did she mean me or her master? “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Welke +Mijnheer?</span>” I asked. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ben ik mijnheer, of is Mijnheer +mijnheer?</span>”</p> + +<p>Raising her voice she announced deliberately, +but with increasing irritation: “<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer van Leeuwen—heeft—belet.</i>”</p> + +<p>“Aha”, I whispered to Terence, “It’s my big letter +she’s talking about. Well, I’m glad it came in time”.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">AANSLAGBILJET</span>.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Uitstekend!</span>” I hastened to say. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dat biljet is +van mij. Dus mijnheer verwacht mij, niet waar?</span>”</p> + +<p>She nervously closed the door a bit. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik heb +al gezaid—vanmorgen heeft mijnheer <em>expres +belet gegeven</em>.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mag ik het hebben, dan</span>”, I enquired politely; +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijn brief—dat geschreven biljet?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hé?</span>” she said, visibly relieved, opening the +door widely as she spoke. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Neem mij niet kwalijk, +Mijnheer. Ik wist niet dat u van de belasting was. +Komt u om het beschrijvingsbiljet?</span>”</p> + +<p>She retreated a step, timidly, into the hall, and +glanced at an elderly butler, who in silence had +been standing at a discreet distance listening to +our colloquy. The butler moved forward, and in +an apologetic tone murmured, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer, het beschrijvingsbiljet +is nog niet klaar. Of komt u met +een aanslagbiljet?</span>”</p> + +<p>As I had a newspaper in my hand full of talk +about a ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">moordaanslag</span>’ I repudiated the latter idea +indignantly. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Geen denken aan!</span>” I said.</p> + +<p>The butler came out and stood on the steps, +enquiring “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Is U soms een schatter.</span>”</p> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Schatter?</span> (<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Schat</span>, a treasure; <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">schatter</span>, a <em>treasurer</em>. +I reasoned.) “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wel nee: geen schatter ben ik,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +alleen Eerlijk Secretaris van de Studenten-Club</span>”.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A MYSTERIOUS OBSTACLE.</div> + +<p>In the hall a <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">loopmeisje</span> and a seamstress stood +transfixed with curiosity. How could I get this +mad interview terminated?</p> + +<p>The deferential butler began to grow suspicious.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Komt U niet van de belasting?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik weet het niet</span>,” I replied.</p> + +<p>That was enough.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer geeft belet altijd ‘s morgens</span>,” he +said, adding, evidently with reference to my <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">eerlijk +secretaris.</span> “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wij zijn allemaal eerlijk hier!</span>”</p> + +<p>We appeared to be dismissed!</p> + +<p>“Terence,” I said quickly; “Look if b-e-l-e-t +is in the dictionary. They always hark back +to that.”</p> + +<p>In a minute he gave a mild shout: “It’s here; +it means <em>hindrance</em>. Ah, I see. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Van Leeuwen</span> is +hindered seeing us. Hadn’t we better go?”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">De belet is niet erg, hoop ik?</span>” I said to the +servant; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">ik hoop dat Mijnheer spoedig beter zal +worden, als het een ziekte is.</span>”</p> + +<p>Now at last we had mastered the mysteries of +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">belet</span>? No such thing!</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">WIJ KRIJGEN BELET.</div> + +<p>Turning to go, I thought I might as well enquire +when van Leeuwen could be seen. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wanneer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +kan ik soms Mijnheer zien?</span>” Her reply confounded +me: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Vandaag of morgen, maar U moet +<strong>belet vragen</strong>.</span>”</p> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Vragen!</span> surely not ask for an obstacle. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">U +bedoelt <strong>weigeren</strong>, niet waar?</span>” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee: belet vragen, anders zal mijnheer u niet +ontvangen.</span>”</p> + +<p>“Oh Terence!” I exclaimed. “This is too awful! +<strong>He</strong> has this obstacle; he has given it to us; now +<strong>we</strong> must <strong>ask it again</strong>. And I don’t even +know what it is!”</p> + +<p>“Take care, Jack. Don’t ask anything else, +or you’ll get us into a worse mess.”</p> + +<p>“One moment,” I said, appealing to the stolid +butler. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Moet ik verzoeken om weggestuurd te +worden? Of wat?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja Mijnheer, ik verzoek jullie maar weg te +gaan. Alstublieft!</span>”</p> + +<p>The solemn man looked like an archbishop. +He cleared his throat and added courteously: +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maar, als U Mijnheer van Leeuwen wil spreken, +moet U belet <strong>laten vragen</strong>. Anders <strong>krijgt</strong> +U belet als U komt.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Schei uit!</span>” I cried in dismay. “Terence, let +us fly! for my brain won’t stand it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">IS MIJNHEER GEENGAGEERD?</div> + +<p>“No, no!” he interposed hastily. “Don’t be +silly or hysterical, now. Look here. I’ve been +working the thing out in my head and think I +can see some sense in it. Perhaps it’s all very +simple. Van Leeuwen may be only occupied for +the moment, and so can see us if we wait. Just +ask if they mean that he’s merely engaged. He +mayn’t be sick at all. There’s the word for +<em>engaged</em>.”</p> + +<p>And he reached me the dictionary with this +thumb opposite: <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">geengageerd</i>, <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">verpanden</i>, <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">verloofd</i>.</p> + +<p>Yes, I thought. There was wisdom in his calm +suggestion, though really I was sick making these +curious enquiries. But it seemed plain sailing now. +So with an ingratiating smile I just asked in a +matter of fact sort of way: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer is soms +geengageerd? Is het wel?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Verloofd?</span>” I added taking the next word, +as there was no manner of response forthcoming +to the first question.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Verpanden?</span>” whispered Terence with his eye +on the dictionary.</p> + +<p>The company—there were some six of them +now clustering round the butler for protection—retreated +hastily into the recesses of the big hall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +and left that majestic man to shut the door. This +he did without delay, saying, somewhat nervously, +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Maak dat jullie weg gaat!</span>”</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">EEN SPOEDIGE RESTAURATIE.</div> + +<p>There was nothing left for us to do but to beat +a dignified retreat.</p> + +<p>I made it as dignified as possible by, expressing +our best wishes for van Leeuwen’s speedy +recovery.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Komplimenten aan Mijnheer, hoor; een spoedige +restauratie!</span>”</p> + +<p>We cycled off.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br /><br /> + +<small>THE DAY-TRAIN.</small></h2> + + +<p>We had a delightful spin along the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Velperweg</span>.</p> + +<p>Dismounting three or four times to admire +choice ‘bits’ of scenery, we were enticed on and +on, and followed a side way that rose over a +gentle slope. From the ridge of this acclivity we +could watch the cloud shadows, violet and purple, +sweeping over wide moors, and by their subtle +contrasts bringing out the soft shimmering of the +distant sunlight. On the horizon we made out the +river and some hill-tops marked on our maps. +Terence was confident he saw <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nijmegen</span>; but +pushing on to get a still finer view, we came to +grief in crossing a heather “brae”. At least I did. +The front wheel was wrenched to one side; and +we had to foot it all the way to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Velp</span>. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +having left both machines at a cycle-mender’s, +we started for a long tramp.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">LOST IN THE WOOD.</div> + +<p>That was a grand mistake, for we went too +far. There were other ranges of wooded hills to +be climbed, and the air was exhilarating. The +time passed quickly, so it was late in the afternoon +before we knew. Feeling more or less famished, +we ventured on a short cut through the +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Onzalige Bosch</span>”; but soon were hopelessly lost. +It <strong>was</strong> a task to get on the main road.</p> + +<p>Indeed we took several wrong turnings apparently, +for they seemed—it was hard to get +our proper orientation—to bring us back to the +same neighbourhood always. But at last we came +to a line of wooded hills, and discovered a cart +track that led us to a real high-way. This high-way +was a magnificent affair with high over-arching +trees; and on it, to our great relief, there +were tram-rails!</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">STOPT DE TRAM OP EEN WENK?</div> + +<p>Help was near at hand. We put our best foot +foremost, so to speak, and hurried forward looking +in the dusk for a <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">halte</i>. Perhaps we may have +passed some <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">halten</i>, but we didn’t notice any; +and as we were fagged out, I was glad to come +upon a group of workmen who, I imagined, could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +tell me about the tram. The question I wanted +to get solved was simple. Did the tram stop +merely at the official <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">halten</i>, or would the driver +pull up anywhere he got a passenger? If the bye-laws +of this particular tramway allowed the tram +to stop and pick up pedestrians anywhere all along +the line, we were quite safe; we should just sit +down on the roadside and rest. We shouldn’t +walk another step.</p> + +<p>The men were shovelling away at fallen leaves, +so I accosted them in my friendliest Dutch and +said: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Stop de tram overal?</span>” As this was greeted +with the customary “<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">blief?”</i> I tried to be more +explicit. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Stop de tram op een wenk of een uitroepteeken? +Of stopt hij alleen op de halten?</span>”</p> + +<p>This puzzled them all exceedingly; and one +elderly man mopped his brow with his handkerchief +and said, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik mot es eve prakiseere.</span>”</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">PRAKISEERE.</div> + +<p>With that he stabbed his spade into the sod +at his foot and leaned on the top of it with both +arms, his eye fixed the while on me. I didn’t +care for the performance, as his stare was discomfitingly +steady; but I allowed him for a while +to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">prakiseere</span> undisturbed.</p> + +<p>Indeed I couldn’t even guess what he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +trying to do. It looked like an exercise in +philosophic meditation or an attempt to hypnotise +me on the spot, and as he seemed in no +hurry to give me the information I desired, there +was nothing for it but ask one of the other road +menders.</p> + +<p>Selecting the most intelligent looking of them. +I said “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Kijk es, baas; houdt de tram op, op +een wuiving van een zakdoek? Of als men teekent +met een paraplu?</span>”</p> + +<p>This second functionary shook his head sadly, +and leaned on <em>his</em> spade in turn, gazing at me +as if I had horns. There was a third man—close +at hand—quite a young fellow, halfway across +the road where he was standing as if petrified +by my previous conversation. However he wasn’t +“prakiseering,” so I stepped across to him with +the slowly enunciated query: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Vertel me nou es: +wat voor signaal moet ik maken, als ik wensch +op genomen te worden?</span>”</p> + +<p>He was the promptest of the group, for he +replied glibly: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik weet het niet. Je mot eve by +de Politie gaan vragen.</span>” But not a word about +the tram.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MY DUTCH BREAKS DOWN.</div> + +<p>I gave it up. No information could possibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +be extracted from these roadmen. My Dutch +had quite broken down, and in disgust, I surrendered +the leading of the expedition wholly +to Terence.</p> + +<p>Terence has a theory that he can make his +meaning clear by means of careful and scientific +gesticulation. Now he took his innings, while I +watched the proceedings from a comfortable seat +by the roadside.</p> + +<p>“They’re quite clever at it,” he shouted to me. +“The tram will be here in two somethings—I +believe two hours—so we may as well move +on: it’ll be no use to us, to wait.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” I said; “your way of it!” And +off we started, tired as we were. We weren’t ten +minutes on the road till the tram was heard puffing +behind us; and catching sight of a kind of +double line in front of us we bounded towards +this spot in hopes there might be a halte there. +There <em>was:</em> and the tram waited half an hour +at it, and then went back again the way it had +come. We had to walk. Well, at all events we +reached <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Velp</span> at dark. My cycle was nicely mended, +so after getting some refreshments in an excellent +<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">logement</i> and taking a prolonged and well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +earned rest, we mounted our bikes and rode straight +to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span>.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE TRAIN THAT NEVER STOPS.</div> + +<p>So disgusted was I with my ill-success in Dutch +that I tackled the porters in English. An obliging +<span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">wit-jas</span> asked me if I would have the day-train. +“Rather not,” I told him. “There will surely be +another train to-night. It’s only nine.”</p> + +<p>The first was a <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bommel</span>, he said, and would do +for the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">fietsen</span>; but he recommended us to wait +for the day-train.</p> + +<p>“What! And stay here all night?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” he explained. “Day-trein will be here +soon.”</p> + +<p>“<strong>How is that?</strong>” said I. “<strong>How</strong> in the wide +world can a <strong>Day-train go at night</strong>? or is it +because it started from Germany by day-light? +You surely don’t reckon here by <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Amerikaansche +tijd</span> for the sake of the tourists?”</p> + +<p>“You not understand,” he explained. “We call +it day-trein becos’ you pay more—.”</p> + +<p>“Well!” I interrupted; “that would be a Pay-train, +then! Not Day.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” he said excitedly. “Zis trein go +kwik!—not stop—<strong>anywheres</strong>!”</p> + +<p>“But if it doesn’t stop, how can we get in?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +I asked. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Of moet ik <strong>belet vragen</strong> voor deze +Dag-trein? Geeft de trein belet?</span> You’ll need a +special kind of ticket, too—perhaps an aanslagsbiljet?”</p> + +<p>“No, no; only little <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bewijsje</span>—kwik trein—bring +Restoration—becos’—.”</p> + +<p>“What? The Restoration! It turns day into +night, and brings back Charles II! Go on, please, +I can believe anything now!”</p> + +<div class="sidenote"><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">MET HANGENDE POOTJES</span>—<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">RE INFECTA</span>.</div> + +<p>“Hallo! is this where you are?” sounded gratefully +on our ears. It was <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span>, who had +been expecting us all day, after he had heard about +our call, from the indignant butler. He had given +up all hope of seeing us, but we passed him by +in the dark, talking and laughing. He had followed +hot-speed to the station—in time to explain +the mysteries of the D-trein. My spirits rose. The +world was still ruled by reason. Of course we went +back with our rescuer. That was the original +plan, and I had a grammar to send with him to +the Hague.</p> + +<p>As he waited, talking to Terence, I recalled +the cycles. The wit-jas demurred: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">De fietsen zijn +al weg.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Neen, niet waar</span>,” I told him. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Onmogelijk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +hoor! Geen trein is weg. Daar zijn de papiertjes +ervan. Pak ze: breng de fietsen mee. Ik weiger +je verontschuldigingen. Doe wat ik zeg, ik bid U. +En niet terug komen met hangende pootjes!</span>”</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br /><br /> + +<small>SUPPER AT A <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">BOERDERIJ</span>.</small></h2> + + +<p>That night, after Terence had retired, I had a +confidential talk with <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span>; and I begged +of him, as a great favour, to take the Grammar +to Kathleen, and—if he had time—give her +a little coaching in Dutch. He said he would—to +oblige me; and I was pleased to notice that +he started, taking Boyton with him, by the earliest +possible train. This was the six twenty—a +notorious <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">bommel</span> which brought him into the +Hague only seventeen minutes earlier than if he +had waited for a decent breakfast.</p> + +<p>Enderby got to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Arnhem</span> about noon, and took +us ‘in tow’ for our cycling tour. We had a glorious +week of it in Gelderland under his direction; but +there were no adventures worth speaking of. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +ten days we were back at the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Residentie</span>, as ‘brown +as berries and as gay as larks’. It is Terence’s +phrase, and I give it for what it’s worth.</p> + +<p>But at all events <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van Leeuwen</span> was gay enough now. +His pedagogic labours seemed to suit him, and Kathleen +was quite herself again. To hear her laugh now +was to imagine that you were back in Kilkenny in the +days before the suffragette question was mooted.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">IN THE SHADE OF THE <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">PRIEELTJE</span>.</div> + +<p>We were all delighted. Except perhaps Enderby. +That youth didn’t appear more than half pleased at +the turn things had taken; but he had the grace to +keep out of the way and consoled himself with motoring. +One day—I had only sat down to luncheon—he +carried me off for a great run to the islands south of +Rotterdam. But the machine broke down twice before +we reached <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dordrecht</span>, and we had to content ourselves +with housing its fragments in a shed, and walking +to a <i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">boerderij</i> where my friend was well known. +Here, indeed, we were expected to supper; but we +arrived hours before we were due, and <em>minus</em> an automobile. +This necessitated explanations, which Enderby +seemed gracefully enough to make to the family +party in the garden. In a shady <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">prieeltje</span> there, +they regaled us with “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">liemonade</span>”; and I occasioned +some consternation by rising twice to offer my seat to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +the mother and daughter respectively, who came in +after I had sat down. They wouldn’t take the chair I +vacated for them, and appeared to resent my civility. +Enderby, too, made me uncomfortable by touching +my foot and saying, <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">sotto voce</i>, “Take care what you’re +about, O’Neill”.</p> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Baas Willemse</span> was very sympathetic about the +mishap to our motor, and strongly recommended the +services of a gifted blacksmith of his acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Indeed, before we knew, he had a pony harnessed +in a sort of hooded tax-cart, in which he insisted in +driving Enderby to this wonderful mechanic, to have +the damaged car put to rights. And off they started.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN UNPREPARED GUEST.</div> + +<p>It was only then that I realized the situation. Here +was I—without dictionary or phrase-book—left to +play the part of intelligent guest, unaided and unprepared. +And that was the first time in my life I was +‘spending the evening’ in a non-English-speaking +home. How would I get through it? I did hope that +the local Vulcan would be quick.</p> + +<p>At first it wasn’t so bad. What with remarks +about “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">het prachtige weer</span>” and “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">het ongeluk</span>”, and +what with playing with the children, I got along +quite smoothly for a while.</p> + +<p>I even discoursed a little about the beauty of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +the afternoon-sunlight and “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">het schilderachtige +van het zomerlandschap</span>”.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">COWS’ OVERCOATS.</div> + +<p>All this was taken in such good part that I +went further afield; and noticing a large number +of cattle with odd coverings on their backs, I +ventured on a comparison which I fancied might +interest the company. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">In Groot-Brittanje hebben de +koeien niet zoo dikwijls overjassen. Mag ik beleefd +vragen: gebeurt dat hier van wege de gezelligheid, +of van wege de gezondheid, of voor het mooi?</span>”</p> + +<p>They were all pleased at this, and gave me a lot +of talk about cows—which didn’t make me much +the wiser.</p> + +<p>By violent efforts I recalled some of my old choice +phrases, and passed myself somehow. But alas! +supper came; and then my real troubles began.</p> + +<p>We all adjourned to a <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">binnen-kamer</span>, where an +ample spread awaited us. I was given the seat of +honour. It was a great pity, all agreed, that <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer</span> +Enderby wasn’t back: but they thought I might +be hungry. Well, I was—and with reason. +Nothing to eat since breakfast!</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Thee of chocolaat, Mijnheer?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Thee, alstublieft</span>”, I said.—And I got it.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Krentebroodjes?</span>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THANK YOU.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dank U</span>,” I answered pleasantly, and reached +for one in a leisurely manner. You don’t like to +parade your hunger, you know. Well, I hadn’t been +prompt enough. A plateful from which I was about +to help myself, was removed. The action surprised me, +and I looked for a moment at the mother, who had +withdrawn the dainties so unexpectedly. She looked +at me, slightly ruffled. But no <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">krentebroodjes</span>!</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wil mijnheer een broodje met vleesch?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Oh dank U wel</span>,” I said, endeavouring to be +quicker. That time I nearly had a slice. But the +agile youth, <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap</span>, who was in charge of the plate, +whipped it away too.</p> + +<p>No <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">broodjes met vleesch</span> for me! It was very queer.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Soms een ei?</span>” said the dignified grandmother, +in a white cap with gold ornaments. She presided, +and did a great deal of the talking; and I could make +out that she was the widow of a fisherman or +shipowner in a small way, and had once visited +Hull. In virtue of having spent a week there, some +forty years before, she was regarded evidently by +all the rest as an authority on English manners +and customs and language and literature.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Soms een ei?</span>” she pleaded. “Engelshman like +egg.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>Very much, indeed, I thought, if I could only get +one—call me English or Irish or whatever you like. +Fain would I have had an egg off that plate, where +she had just put down six or eight, freshly boiled.</p> + +<p>Determined to get one, if politeness would assist +me, I smiled and bowed and smiled again. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Oh, ik +dank U duizendmaal. Ik bewijs volkomen dankbaarheid.</span>”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ANOTHER CUP.</div> + +<p>Stunned apparently by my reply, she hesitated. +To encourage her to extend these edibles a trifle nearer, +I said, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Alstublieft. Dank U.</span>” But she only sighed, +and laid the plate out of reach, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>No eggs!</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Truitje</span>,” she whispered to her granddaughter; +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">presenteer de schuimpjes</span>.”</p> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Truitje</span> didn’t say a word, but pushed a schaaltje +of these light refreshments towards me.</p> + +<p>I did secure two; but in a moment they were +finished. You see, a schuimpje doesn’t last very +long, when you are really hungry.</p> + +<p>Then the mother complained, courteously, of my +slender appetite: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer wil niets gebruiken.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">O ja</span>,” I interrupted, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">integendeel! Heel graag. +Alstublieft.</span>” And to show I meant it, I asked for +another cup of tea. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mag ik beleefdelijk vragen om<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +een andere kop?</span>” Here I reached cup and saucer +towards them.</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">VOOR DE PRONK.</div> + +<p>That certainly created a diversion. They looked +blankly at one another, till the grandmother—she was +very hearty—called out with a cheerful laugh, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hé, +ja. Dat’s waar ook. De Engelsche koppen zijn groot.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Truitje</span>,” she whispered in an audible aside. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Breng +even een Engelsche kom. Ze staan in de kast.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Zie zoo. Mijnheer</span>,” she continued to me with a +pleasant smile. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nouw, Mijnheer wil zeker nog wat +thee hebben? Nouw, niet bedanken, hoor.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Oh ja</span>,” I replied joyfully, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Schiet op—Als’tublieft—dank +U. Dank U—heelemaal!</span>”</p> + +<p>Holding the tea-pot poised in her hand, she looked +at me appealingly, but in doubt. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wat? heus?</span>” she +said.</p> + +<p>What was I to do?</p> + +<p>I looked at her quite as appealingly, and replied. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, heus! Wel zeker.</span>”</p> + +<p>That was decisive. No tea!</p> + +<p>The cup, however, was planted down in front of me, +upside down. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het is voor de pronk, zeker</span>,” said the +grandmother. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Engelsche gewoonte—zeer net.</span>”</p> + +<p>But conversation flagged. The silence was painful. +You could have heard a pin drop. My discreet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +attempt to ask for something had failed, and I didn’t +see exactly how I was to improve upon it.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THINGS ARE DEAR IN HOLLAND.</div> + +<p>The mother meantime surveyed my empty plate +and empty cup with distinct disapproval, and put +out a feeler: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer houdt niet van Hollandsche +kost?</span>”</p> + +<p>‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hollandsch kost</span>’, what things <strong>cost</strong> in Holland—Dutch +prices, in other words? Well, they are +rather high sometimes. The remark seemed somewhat +irrelevant, but it was talk, and therefore +welcome. Anything to break that oppressive silence. +Eagerly embracing the opportunity of saying something, +I responded with cordiality: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hollandsche +kost? Neen. Ik houd niet erg ervan. Dat kan U +begrijpen. Ze zijn veels te hoog!</span>”</p> + +<p>This well-meant pleasantry was received with +such evident disfavour that I hastened to explain. +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik bedoel dat vele artikelen zijn kostbaar—of +kostelijk—mijns bedunkens—in Holland—maar +van onberispelijke smaak.</span>”</p> + +<p>Hardly any response was made to this.—The +merest murmur on the part of the grandmother, +that was all. But they all looked at me curiously, +without saying a word.</p> + +<p>Frantically I strove to make an observation in an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +easy friendly way, but all my Dutch seemed to +have deserted me.—At least all I judged suitable.</p> + +<p>Fragments of conversation did float through my +agonized brain, but none of them was quite what +I needed.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik graauw, ik kef en kweel</span>” was out of the +question.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN INNOCENT OBSERVATION.</div> + +<p>Two proverbs suddenly flashed across my mind, +and I gripped them firmly. One was: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Een vogel in de +hand is meer waard dan tien in de lucht</span>,” and the tempting +parallel offered itself: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Eén broodje in de hand +is meer waard dan tien op een bord.</span>” As this aphorism, +however, didn’t sound extra civil, I let it pass.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Deugd en belooning gaan zelden te samen</span>” was the +second proverb; and on that model I managed, after +due cogitation, to construct a nice harmless phrase. +As it expressed what we all knew and could see +before our eyes, I felt safe against contradiction, and +I knew it couldn’t hurt anybody. This dictum ran: +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Koek en boterham gaan dikwijls te samen.</span>”</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was owing to the suddenness with +which I proclaimed this truth, or to some severity +in my manner; but the effect produced on the +company was magical.</p> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap</span> dropped his fork with a clatter and said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gunst!</span>” The mother put her hand to her chest, +whispering. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Zoo’n schrik!</span>” All looked startled +and stopped eating!</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">HALF-ELF.</div> + +<p>To divert the scrutiny of so many eyes, I manufactured +talk on the first thing that occurred to me, +and, reverting to the Dutch prices, said: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Sommige +artikelen in Holland zijn duur. Van morgen heb +ik een plaat bezichtigd—een poes opgerold over +een kannetje melk—de zee in de verte. Prachtig. +Maar peper-duur. Tien gulden en een half.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wat zegt mijnheer</span>,” asked the grandmother, +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">van de poes en de peper en de tien gulden?</span>”</p> + +<p>Assuring her it was merely a ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">plaat</span>’, but one that +was ‘<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">erg kostbaar</span>’, I grasped at the analogy of +the hours of the day, to do full justice to the expensiveness +of the picture. If ten o’clock and a +half works out at “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">half-elf-uur</span>,” it is not hard +to reckon what ten guilders-and-a-half <em>ought</em> to +be; so I gave it with relish: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">En, Juffrouw, wat +denkt U? Het kost half-elf-gulden!</span>”</p> + +<p>Jaap looked at his watch and shook his head. +Then he shook the watch, put it back in his pocket +and fastened his eyes again on me.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee, hoor!</span>” exclaimed the mother, who had now +begun to help a special dish; “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nee; zoo laat is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +het niet. Mijnheer O’Neill, neem een stukje pudding—toe +dan—heel verteerbaar.</span>”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">STARVATION IN THE MIDST OF PLENTY.</div> + +<p>My plate was passed along, and was heaped up +liberally. Though I waited with my thanks as long +as I could, I was obliged to intervene when the plate +was piled high enough for any two people. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nouw, +ik bedank!</span>” I ejaculated, making my best bow.</p> + +<p>But that caused the guillotine to fall once more. +With a gesture of impatience <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Truitje</span> put away +my <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">verteerbaar pudding</span> on a remote side-table. +Not the least chance of getting it!</p> + +<p>I was starving in the midst of plenty!</p> + +<p>As my hosts appeared to be as much impressed +with the contrast as I was, I endeavoured to smooth +things over a little, and set them more at their ease. +Making the best of it, with all the careless grace I +could muster I blandly assured them that it didn’t +matter. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Het geeft niets—het hindert niet—het +komt er niet opaan.</span>”</p> + +<p>But they grew huffy and distant—my +phrases didn’t do much to relieve the strain—and +I was feeling more depressed and famished +every minute, when, to my unspeakable relief, +up there came the sound of wheels on the gravel, +and in a moment I heard Enderby’s voice talking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +Dutch loudly and confidently in the hall.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">MOHAMMEDAN</span>.</div> + +<p>The young folks all rushed out to meet him (he is +a prime favourite with them) and there was much +whispering and laughing and a long confabulation +before they came back.</p> + +<p>Enderby entered, and greeted the older people +merrily: but there was a quizzical frown upon +his brow as he sat down near me. “What’s all +this O’Neill?” he whispered. “Are you ill?”</p> + +<p>“I’m as well as could be expected in the circumstances.”</p> + +<p>“Circumstances! Why you wouldn’t touch the +good food they gave you. Not content with despising +their cookery you objected to their tea-cups, and pretend +that religious scruples keep you from eating until +after half-past ten. They think you are some kind of +<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mohammedan</span>. These kind people are a little hurt, I +fear; and I can see they are greatly astonished.”</p> + +<p>“So am I! I have been as polite as anything, all the +time; but though they offer me plenty of everything, +if I attempt to help myself, whew!—they whisk the +dish away. They may be hurt, as you say; but I can +tell you, <em>I’m starving</em>. Is there no way to—.”</p> + +<p>Our conversation was interrupted by the mother’s +voice, which broke in with the cheery question:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer Enderby houdt <strong>wel</strong> van Hollandsche +kost, niet waar?</span>”</p> + +<div class="sidenote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">PROBEER NOUW IS.</div> + +<p>I watched what he would say.</p> + +<p>He used two easy words: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Dat spreekt.</span>”</p> + +<p>Busying herself with plates and spoons, the mother +continued: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">U neemt een beetje avondeten?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Nouw! Of ik!</span>” said Enderby with enthusiasm—and +they brought him eatables all sorts.</p> + +<p>These dainties caught my eye in spite of myself; +and I wondered why none had been given to me. It +was now going on to ten; and I had had nothing since +early breakfast, except a glass of lemonade, a cup of +tea and two small <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">schuimpjes</span>.</p> + +<p>The old lady was observant, and must have detected +famine in my eye, for with a glance at the clock she +called softly to <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Truitje</span>: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Probeer nouw is.</span>”</p> + +<p>To me she said, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wil Mijnheer nog thee?</span>”</p> + +<p>The secret was mine now, and I didn’t hesitate.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Of ik!</span>” I replied.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">OPEN SESAME.</div> + +<p>There was a scream of delight from all quarters! +My <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">kom</span> was turned right-side up and filled to the +brim with fresh warm tea. I was the centre of +interest at once. Cupboards flew open on all sides, +like pistol-shots, and everybody was waiting to +help me. It was who would give me most.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ham en een broodje?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Of ik!</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Rookvleesch—en een ei?</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Of ik!</span>”</p> + +<p>The seven lean years were past, now the time +of plenty was come.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Bitterkoekjes en leverworst?</span>”—“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Muisjes en +karnemelk?</span>”—“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Appelbolletjes, wentelteefjes en +molsla?</span>”—I refused nothing.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Of ik</span>” was the “Open Sesame”—the key +to unlock all cupboards and all hearts.</p> + +<p>I took care to thank nobody for anything, for +fear my plate would be removed. Happy laughter +was heard on all sides. Smiles beamed on every +face. In an instant I had become the most popular +man on the island,—at all events with the people +in that farm-house. Their hospitality and my hunger +had met at last, and come to terms—to the +unbounded enthusiasm of all.</p> + +<p>Meantime Enderby had communicated to them +the fact that I was an Irishman; and I overheard +someone venture on the singular criticism: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">De +Ieren zijn zoo lief voor elkaar! Hij gebruikt niets +als zijn vriend er niet bij is.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Hé, wat lief!</span>” said <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Baas Willemse</span>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Innig!</span>” whispered the grandmother, smiling.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Leuk</span>”, answered the mother.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Aardig</span>”, said some one else.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Typisch</span>”, exclaimed Truitje.</p> + +<p>A grumble fell on our ears: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wat gek!</span>”</p> + +<p>It was <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap</span>.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AN AFFECTIONATE IRISH TERRIER.</div> + +<p><span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Truitje</span> talked on one side of Enderby; <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap</span> +talked on the other. Enderby smiled, then sniggered, +then laughed; and finally, laying down his +knife and fork, he looked at me, and leaned back +in his chair and positively roared.</p> + +<p>“Well, what’s the matter?” I asked austerely.</p> + +<p>“She says it’s touching to see your affection for +me. You looked so melancholy when I was away, as +if you were longing for something—or crossed in +love—or disappointed! You’ve won their hearts, +at last, my boy, not a doubt of it. Still, don’t +overdo that phrase, now that you’ve got it. <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap</span> +here has a story about an Irish terrier in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Drenthe</span> +that refused to eat anything for three days, when +its master was away in <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Amsterdam</span>. But he adds +that the terrier made up for it, by eating everything +it could, when its master came back. I +can see that you are going to achieve a reputation +that will outrival that of your canine compatriot,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +unless you have a care. Be a bit cautious, please.”</p> + +<div class="sidenote">GENERAL PRINCIPLES.</div> + +<p>Here <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap</span>, dimly apprehending that Enderby +was speaking about him, performed a mystic rite +that puzzled me extremely.</p> + +<p>Pretending to sharpen an imaginary pencil on his +forefinger he held it towards us and cried, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Sliep uit.</span>”</p> + +<p>“What on earth is that?” I asked Enderby—who, +however, could only tell me that it was intended +as a roguish taunt—<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap</span> was always a schelm—but +the phrase was otherwise meaningless.</p> + +<p>As such I jotted it down at once in my notebook +for future use.</p> + +<p>From these experiences in the boerderij I was +able to deduce an important general principle of +practical value.</p> + +<p><strong>If you want anything in Holland never +say “thank you”, until the object is firmly +in your grasp.</strong> Then you may be as civil +as you like. But before you get hold of it, you +are only safe if you say, “If I”.</p> + +<p><strong>In the Dutch language premature thanks +are equivalent to a refusal; so you’d better +keep your gratitude out of sight.</strong></p> + +<p>Well, I had won all hearts here in virtue of +my discoveries. As we were going away the grandmother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +gave me a second Good-bye, shaking me +warmly by both hands. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Heeft mijnheer zich goed +geamuseerd?</span>” she enquired.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A PARTING SALVO.</div> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Kostelijk—Uitstekend—Nouw!</span>” was my +prompt reply, for I had expected that query.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Wat spreekt mijnheer nouw makkelijk Hollandsch!</span>” +she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Gunst, ja</span>”, was my retort. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ik heb zoo’n pret +gehad! Onbetaalbaar!</span>”</p> + +<p>But I caught <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jaap’s</span> eye; it was critical; so to pay +back the youth for his terrier-story I took out my +pencil, sharpened it in full view of them all and +said, “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Sliep uit, Jaap; je bent een schelm</span>”.</p> + +<p>With that they all cheered, young and old, +saying “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Net, Mijnheer, net!</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Tot weerziens!</span>” laughed the grandmother shaking +hands again. “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Kom spoedig terug</span>”.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja hoor; dat spreekt.</span>”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Belooft u?</span>” she repeated, before she let me go.</p> + +<p>I pulled myself together, and gave a parting +salvo: “<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Ja, zeker—Stellig—Och kom!—Reken +er op!—Of ik!!</span>”</p> + +<p>We drove away in a perfect tornado of applause.</p> +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>EPILOGUE.</h2> + + +<p>On reaching my rooms at<span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl"> Ferdinand Bolstraat</span> 66<i>a</i>, +the landlady greeted me with respectful effusion +and told me that <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Jan</span> was as good as cured, though the +wounded arm would remain stiff for a good while, she +feared. She was loud in the praises of the <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Engelsche +juffrouw</span> and her profisciency in Dutch; and (sinking +her voice confidentially) <span lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Mijnheer van Leeuwen</span> had +left a letter for me upstairs.</p> + +<p>“Boyton”, I thought, as I climbed those forty nine +precipitous steps that led to my room, “I hope you +have done your duty.”</p> + +<p>And he had.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE EXPECTED SURPRISE.</div> + +<p>Van Leeuwen wrote that he would prepare me for +a great surprise! It was yet a profound secret; but,—well, +in fact—that is to say—he was engaged +to my cousin Kathleen. They had discovered mutual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +sympathies and affinities over the study of Dutch—to +which language now my cousin was devoting her +serious attention. By the by they had been delighted +with that monograph of mine. And the queer Grammar +was useful. (I should think so!)</p> + +<p>He said that he could well imagine my astonished +looks when I got this news about his attachment! +Now confess, he concluded, that you hadn’t the ghost +of a suspicion as to what was coming?</p> + +<p>“Oh hadn’t I just?” I soliloquized, “Well; there’s +only one thing, my dear fellow, to say to all that; +And I really must say it in Dutch: <span class="g" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Of ik</span>?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="l2"/> + +<div class="tnote" lang="nl" xml:lang="nl"> +<p class="center"><b>Opmerkingen van de bewerker</b></p> + + +<p class="r2">De kopteksten van het oorspronkelijke boek zijn gebruikt +als zijnoten.</p> + +<p>Voor het gemak van de lezer is de inhoudsopgave verplaatst van het +eind van het boek naar het begin.</p> + +<p>In de tabel met uitspraakregels op pag. 16 werd in het origineel E U +twee keer genoemd. De tweede is veranderd in E I.</p> + +<p>Duidelijke drukfouten zijn stilzwijgend verbeterd. Alle andere +eigenaardigheden en inconsequenties in spelling en grammatica zijn +niet gewijzigd, in het bijzonder die in de zogenaamde citaten uit +“Boyton and Brandnetel”. Ook de stijl van de auteur +in het gebruik van aanhalingstekens is niet gewijzigd.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Further Adventures of O'Neill in +Holland, by J. Irwin Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF *** + +***** This file should be named 36765-h.htm or 36765-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/7/6/36765/ + +Produced by Mark C. 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