Studio: international art (2.1894)

Holland from a Canadian Canoe

bye to their husbands, fast sailing out of the Ij into shade, while the poor overworked beasts were left

the steep waves of the Zuider Zee. to pant in the scorching sun.

Having thoroughly renewed our acquaintance After a long pull and various delays we enjoyed

with Amsterdam, we left the city of ninety islands a the calm of the sundown, gliding past a town

day or so later. The last bridge past, we are soon stretched for a mile along the shore, where our

in the country ; following the pleasant windings of exchange of "guten abends " with the inhabitants

the broad river Amstel, we notice, round the would break in a startling manner through the

curves of the bank, peculiar poles with arms hush of the evening. Darker still it became until

resembling semaphores, to guide tow-ropes past we in our whites must have looked like phantoms,

the bend. in fact> we cluite scared people as we approached

"DAWN IN HOLLAND

After a rest at Ouderkerk, we met a wedding
party driving snake-like along the bank in a dozen
vehicles of prehistoric pattern. Most of them
were heavy dog-carts on big wheels ; in each sat a
man and a woman, the latter wearing a golden
head-dress covered with thin white lace and sur-
mounted by a very ordinary black bonnet. The
motive power was supplied by the usual Dutch
horse, an animal with a long neck, a very
curved back, and a most idiotic trot jerking the
quarters high up at every step, a style probably
the outcome of frequent travelling over hot brick-
paved roads. As the bride drove along, she gave
away money to all who applied, poor people
crossing the river to receive the gift.

Further on we met a similar party followed
closely by a funeral procession, the drivers and
mutes in knee-breeches and cocked hats. Next
came a couple of dogs chained to a cart, of
the size usually drawn by a donkey, in which
lolled two big Dutchmen, carried along the road
at a fair pace. The dogs were stopped for a
minute or so for their master to cool in the

them and inquired the way in an uncanny tongue.
At last we reach a branch of the Rhine up which
we paddle at full speed in the dark, urged on by
hunger and the distant lights, which we guess must
be at little known Alfen. This progression through
the darkness, up a narrow, unknown, winding river
has something deliciously exciting about it, more
especially when one has paddled thirty thirsty
miles. After passing one or two boat-loads of
villagers, who turn silently to stare after us,
and cannot understand the game at all, we reach
Alfen bridge, where we land and think ourselves
lucky to find an hotel after having been accom-
panied through the town by a voluble and excited
escort.

Next morning we paddled into Gouda, past an
old waterside market-place, and up to a lock under
the shadow of the great cathedral tower.

Once clear of the town, we find the character
of the country quite changed; we are on the Ijssel,
a big tidal river with high banks, natural on one
hand, and built on a slant with large stones on the
other. Having worked for some time against

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