echo of my tread seemed like a profaning sound. On every side were
pictures, saints gilded shrines. A few steps removed one from the bustle
and din of the crowd to the stillness and solemnity of the holy retreat.

We learned from the guide, whom we had engaged because he spoke a few
words of English, that there was still a _treckshuyt_ line on the
canals, and that one boat leaves to-night at ten o'clock for Ghent.
Wishing to try this old Dutch method of travelling, he took us about
half a mile along the Ghent road to the canal, where a moderate sized
boat was lying. Our baggage deposited in the plainly furnished cabin, I
ran back to Bruges, although it was beginning to grow dark, to get a
sight of the belfry; for Longfellow's lines had been running through my
head all day:

"In the market place of Bruges, stands the belfry old and brown,
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town."

And having found the square, brown tower in one corner of the open
market square, we waited to hear the chimes, which are said to be the
finest in Europe. They rang out at last with a clear silvery tone, most
beautifully musical indeed. We then returned to the boat in the
twilight. We were to leave in about an hour, according to the
arrangement, but as yet there was no sound to be heard, and we were the
only tenants. However, trusting to Dutch regularity, we went to sleep in
the full confidence of awakening in Ghent.

I awoke once in the night and saw the dark branches of trees passing
before the window, but there was no perceptible sound nor motion; the
boat glided along like a dream, and we were awakened next morning by its
striking against the pier at Ghent. After paying three francs for the