Hans Brinker [43]
Benjamin. We have no time to lose if you wish to reach there before midnight. Decide quickly, boys--Blue Stairs or Leyden?"
"Leyden," they answered, and were out of Haarlem in a twinkling, admiring the lofty, towerlike windmills and pretty country seats as they left the city behind them.
"If you really wish to see Haarlem," said Lambert to Ben, after they had skated awhile in silence, "you should visit it in summer. It is the greatest place in the world for beautiful flowers. The walks around the city are superb; and the 'wood' with its miles of noble elms, all in full feather, is something to remember. You need not smile, old fellow, at my saying 'full feather.' I was thinking of waving plumes and got my words mixed up a little. But a Dutch elm beats everything; it is the noblest tree on earth, Ben--if you except the English oak."
"Aye," said Ben solemnly, "IF you except the English oak." And for some moments he could scarcely see the canal because Robby and Jenny kept bobbing in the air before his eyes.
Friends in Need
In the meantime, the other boys were listening to Peter's account of an incident which had occurred long ago *{Sir Thomas Carr's tour through Holland.} in a part of the city where stood an ancient castle, whose lord had tyrannized over the burghers of the town to such an extent that they surrounded his castle and laid siege to it. Just at the last extremity, when the haughty lord felt that he could hold out no longer and was prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible, his lady appeared on the ramparts and offered to surrender everything, provided she was permitted to bring out, and retain, as much of her most precious household goods as she could carry upon her back. The promise was given, and the lady came forth from the gateway, bearing her husband upon her shoulders. The burghers' pledge preserved him from the fury of the troops but left them free to wreak their vengeance upon the castle.
"Do you BELIEVE that story, Captain Peter?" asked Carl in an incredulous tone.
"Of course, I do. It is historical. Why should I doubt it?"
"Simply because no woman could do it--and if she could, she wouldn't. That is my opinion."
"And I believe that there are many who WOULD. That is, to save those they really cared for," said Ludwig.
Jacob, who in spite of his fat and sleepiness was of rather a sentimental turn, had listened with deep interest.
"That is right, little fellow," he said, nodding his head approvingly. "I believe every word of it. I shall never marry a woman who would not be glad to do as much for ME."
"Heaven help her!" cried Carl, turning to gaze at the speaker. "Why, Poot, three MEN couldn't do it!"
"Perhaps not," said Jacob quietly, feeling that he had asked rather too much of the future Mrs. Poot. "But she must be WILLING, that is all."
"Aye," responded Peter's cheery voice, "willing heart makes nimble foot--and who knows, but it may make strong arms also."
"Pete," asked Ludwig, changing the subject, "did you tell me last night that the painter Wouwerman was born in Haarlem?"
"Yes, and Jacob Ruysdael and Berghem too. I like Berghem because he was always good-natured. They say he always sang while he painted, and though he died nearly two hundred years ago, there are traditions still afloat concerning his pleasant laugh. He was a great painter, and he had a wife as cross as Xantippe."
"They balanced each other finely," said Ludwig. "He was kind and she was cross. But, Peter, before I forget it, wasn't that picture of Saint Hubert and the horse painted by Wouwerman? You remember, Father showed us an engraving from it last night."
"Yes, indeed. There is a story connected with that picture."
"Tell us!" cried two or three, drawing closer to Peter as they skated on.
"Wouwerman," began the captain oratorically, "was born in 1620, just four years before Berghem. He was a master of his art and especially excelled in painting horses. Strange as it may seem, people were so long finding out his merits that, even
"Leyden," they answered, and were out of Haarlem in a twinkling, admiring the lofty, towerlike windmills and pretty country seats as they left the city behind them.
"If you really wish to see Haarlem," said Lambert to Ben, after they had skated awhile in silence, "you should visit it in summer. It is the greatest place in the world for beautiful flowers. The walks around the city are superb; and the 'wood' with its miles of noble elms, all in full feather, is something to remember. You need not smile, old fellow, at my saying 'full feather.' I was thinking of waving plumes and got my words mixed up a little. But a Dutch elm beats everything; it is the noblest tree on earth, Ben--if you except the English oak."
"Aye," said Ben solemnly, "IF you except the English oak." And for some moments he could scarcely see the canal because Robby and Jenny kept bobbing in the air before his eyes.
Friends in Need
In the meantime, the other boys were listening to Peter's account of an incident which had occurred long ago *{Sir Thomas Carr's tour through Holland.} in a part of the city where stood an ancient castle, whose lord had tyrannized over the burghers of the town to such an extent that they surrounded his castle and laid siege to it. Just at the last extremity, when the haughty lord felt that he could hold out no longer and was prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible, his lady appeared on the ramparts and offered to surrender everything, provided she was permitted to bring out, and retain, as much of her most precious household goods as she could carry upon her back. The promise was given, and the lady came forth from the gateway, bearing her husband upon her shoulders. The burghers' pledge preserved him from the fury of the troops but left them free to wreak their vengeance upon the castle.
"Do you BELIEVE that story, Captain Peter?" asked Carl in an incredulous tone.
"Of course, I do. It is historical. Why should I doubt it?"
"Simply because no woman could do it--and if she could, she wouldn't. That is my opinion."
"And I believe that there are many who WOULD. That is, to save those they really cared for," said Ludwig.
Jacob, who in spite of his fat and sleepiness was of rather a sentimental turn, had listened with deep interest.
"That is right, little fellow," he said, nodding his head approvingly. "I believe every word of it. I shall never marry a woman who would not be glad to do as much for ME."
"Heaven help her!" cried Carl, turning to gaze at the speaker. "Why, Poot, three MEN couldn't do it!"
"Perhaps not," said Jacob quietly, feeling that he had asked rather too much of the future Mrs. Poot. "But she must be WILLING, that is all."
"Aye," responded Peter's cheery voice, "willing heart makes nimble foot--and who knows, but it may make strong arms also."
"Pete," asked Ludwig, changing the subject, "did you tell me last night that the painter Wouwerman was born in Haarlem?"
"Yes, and Jacob Ruysdael and Berghem too. I like Berghem because he was always good-natured. They say he always sang while he painted, and though he died nearly two hundred years ago, there are traditions still afloat concerning his pleasant laugh. He was a great painter, and he had a wife as cross as Xantippe."
"They balanced each other finely," said Ludwig. "He was kind and she was cross. But, Peter, before I forget it, wasn't that picture of Saint Hubert and the horse painted by Wouwerman? You remember, Father showed us an engraving from it last night."
"Yes, indeed. There is a story connected with that picture."
"Tell us!" cried two or three, drawing closer to Peter as they skated on.
"Wouwerman," began the captain oratorically, "was born in 1620, just four years before Berghem. He was a master of his art and especially excelled in painting horses. Strange as it may seem, people were so long finding out his merits that, even