roofs and gables; who has drunk his beer full opposite the stadhuis
at Leyden, and seen Haarlem's huge church across magnificent miles
of gaudy tulips, and watched from a brown-sailed boat on the Zuider
Zee a buoy on the horizon grow into the water-gate of Hoorn; who
knows his Gouda and Bois-le-duc and Alkmaar and Kampen and Utrecht:
this man does not fret over wasted days."

Mr. Corbeille continues, later: "Looking down a side street of
Rotterdam at the enormous flank of St. Lawrence's, and again at
St. Peter's in Leyden, it seems as if all the bricks in the world
have been built up in one place. Apart from their smaller size,
bricks appear far more numerous in a wall than do blocks of stone,
because they make a stronger contrast with the mortar. In the laborious
articulation of these millions of clay blocks one first finds Egypt;
then quickly remembers how indigenous it all is, and how characteristic
of the untiring Hollander, who rules the waves even more proudly
than the Briton, and has cheated them of the very ground beneath his
feet. And if sermons may be found in bricks as well as stones, one has
a thought while looking at them about Christianity itself. Certainly
there is often pitiful littleness and short-comings in the individual
believer, just as each separate brick of these millions is stained
or worn or fractured; and yet the Christian Church, august and
significant, still towers before men; even as these old blocks of
clay compile vastly and undeniably in an overpowering whole."

Among a huddle of bad and indifferent pictures in the Kunstliefde
Museum is a series of four long paintings by Jan van Scorel (whom
we met at Rotterdam), representing a band of pilgrims who travelled
from Utrecht to Jerusalem in the sixteenth century. Two of these
pictures are reproduced on the opposite page, the principal figure