the calm life of these ancient grachts. But the secret of the actual
houses of fact is as nothing compared with the secret of those other
houses, more sombre, more mysterious, more reserved, that one sees in
the water. To penetrate their impressive doors were an achievement,
a distinction, indeed! With such a purpose suicide would lose half
its terrors.

For the greatest contrast to these black canals, you must seek the
Kalverstraat and Warmoes Straat. Kalverstraat, running south from the
Dam, is by day filled with shoppers and by night with gossipers. No
street in the world can be more consistently busy. Damrak is of course
always a scene of life, but Damrak is a thoroughfare--its population
moving continually either to or from the station. But those who use
the Kalverstraat may be said almost to live in it. To be there is
an end in itself. Warmoes Straat, parallel with Damrak on the other
side of the Bourse, behind the Bible Hotel, is famous for its gigantic
restaurant--the hugest in Europe, I believe--the Krasnapolsky, a palace
of bewildering mirrors, and for concert halls and other accessories
of the gayer life. But this book is no place in which to enlarge upon
the natural history of Warmoes Straat and its southern continuation,
the Nes.

For the principal cafés, as distinguished from restaurants, you must
seek the Rembrandt's Plein, in the midst of which stands the master's
statue. The pavement of this plein on Sunday evening in summer is
almost impassable for the tables and chairs that spread over it and
the crowds overflowing from Kalverstraat.

But there is still to be mentioned a district of Amsterdam which
from the evening of Friday until the evening of Saturday is more