THE GOLOSHES OF FORTUNE [1]
to penetrate the thick
foggy air, and all the objects around him were confused together in
the darkness. At the nearest corner, a lamp hung before a picture of
the Madonna; but the light it gave was almost useless, for he only
perceived it when he came quite close and his eyes fell on the painted
figures of the Mother and Child.
"That is most likely a museum of art," thought he, "and they
have forgotten to take down the sign."
Two men, in the dress of olden times, passed by him.
"What odd figures!" thought he; "they must be returning from
some masquerade."
Suddenly he heard the sound of a drum and fifes, and then a
blazing light from torches shone upon him. The counsellor stared
with astonishment as he beheld a most strange procession pass before
him. First came a whole troop of drummers, beating their drums very
cleverly; they were followed by life-guards, with longbows and
crossbows. The principal person in the procession was a
clerical-looking gentleman. The astonished counsellor asked what it
all meant, and who the gentleman might be.
"That is the bishop of Zealand."
"Good gracious!" he exclaimed; "what in the world has happened
to the bishop? what can he be thinking about?" Then he shook his
head and said, "It cannot possibly be the bishop himself."
While musing on this strange affair, and without looking to the
right or left, he walked on through East Street and over Highbridge
Place. The bridge, which he supposed led to Palace Square, was nowhere
to be found; but instead, he saw a bank and some shallow water, and
two people, who sat in a boat.
"Does the gentleman wish to be ferried over the Holm?" asked one.
"To the Holm!" exclaimed the counsellor, not knowing in what age
he was now existing; "I want to go to Christian's Haven, in Little
Turf Street." The men stared at him. "Pray tell me where the bridge
is!" said he. "It is shameful that the lamps are not lighted here, and
it is as muddy as if one were walking in a marsh." But the more he
talked with the boatmen the less they could understand each other.
"I don't understand your outlandish talk," he cried at last,
angrily turning his back upon them. He could not, however, find the
bridge nor any railings.
"What a scandalous condition this place is in," said he; never,
certainly, had he found his own times so miserable as on this evening.
"I think it will be better for me to take a coach; but where are
they?" There was not one to be seen! "I shall be obliged to go back to
the king's new market," said he, "where there are plenty of
carriages standing, or I shall never reach Christian's Haven." Then he
went towards East Street, and had nearly passed through it, when the
moon burst forth from a cloud.
"Dear me, what have they been erecting here?" he cried, as he
caught sight of the East gate, which in olden times used to stand at
the end of East Street. However, he found an opening through which
he passed, and came out upon where he expected to find the new market.
Nothing was to be seen but an open meadow, surrounded by a few bushes,
through which ran a broad canal or stream. A few miserable-looking
wooden booths, for the accommodation of Dutch watermen, stood on the
opposite shore.
"Either I behold a fata morgana, or I must be tipsy," groaned
the counsellor. "What can it be? What is the matter with me?" He
turned back in the full conviction that he must be ill. In walking
through the street this time, he examined the houses more closely;
he found that most of them were built of lath and plaster, and many
had only a thatched roof.
"I am certainly all wrong," said he, with a sigh; and yet I only
drank one glass of punch. But I cannot bear even that, and it was very
foolish to give us punch and hot salmon; I shall speak about it to our
hostess, the agent's lady. Suppose I were to go back now and say how
ill I feel, I fear it would look so ridiculous, and it is not very
likely that I should
foggy air, and all the objects around him were confused together in
the darkness. At the nearest corner, a lamp hung before a picture of
the Madonna; but the light it gave was almost useless, for he only
perceived it when he came quite close and his eyes fell on the painted
figures of the Mother and Child.
"That is most likely a museum of art," thought he, "and they
have forgotten to take down the sign."
Two men, in the dress of olden times, passed by him.
"What odd figures!" thought he; "they must be returning from
some masquerade."
Suddenly he heard the sound of a drum and fifes, and then a
blazing light from torches shone upon him. The counsellor stared
with astonishment as he beheld a most strange procession pass before
him. First came a whole troop of drummers, beating their drums very
cleverly; they were followed by life-guards, with longbows and
crossbows. The principal person in the procession was a
clerical-looking gentleman. The astonished counsellor asked what it
all meant, and who the gentleman might be.
"That is the bishop of Zealand."
"Good gracious!" he exclaimed; "what in the world has happened
to the bishop? what can he be thinking about?" Then he shook his
head and said, "It cannot possibly be the bishop himself."
While musing on this strange affair, and without looking to the
right or left, he walked on through East Street and over Highbridge
Place. The bridge, which he supposed led to Palace Square, was nowhere
to be found; but instead, he saw a bank and some shallow water, and
two people, who sat in a boat.
"Does the gentleman wish to be ferried over the Holm?" asked one.
"To the Holm!" exclaimed the counsellor, not knowing in what age
he was now existing; "I want to go to Christian's Haven, in Little
Turf Street." The men stared at him. "Pray tell me where the bridge
is!" said he. "It is shameful that the lamps are not lighted here, and
it is as muddy as if one were walking in a marsh." But the more he
talked with the boatmen the less they could understand each other.
"I don't understand your outlandish talk," he cried at last,
angrily turning his back upon them. He could not, however, find the
bridge nor any railings.
"What a scandalous condition this place is in," said he; never,
certainly, had he found his own times so miserable as on this evening.
"I think it will be better for me to take a coach; but where are
they?" There was not one to be seen! "I shall be obliged to go back to
the king's new market," said he, "where there are plenty of
carriages standing, or I shall never reach Christian's Haven." Then he
went towards East Street, and had nearly passed through it, when the
moon burst forth from a cloud.
"Dear me, what have they been erecting here?" he cried, as he
caught sight of the East gate, which in olden times used to stand at
the end of East Street. However, he found an opening through which
he passed, and came out upon where he expected to find the new market.
Nothing was to be seen but an open meadow, surrounded by a few bushes,
through which ran a broad canal or stream. A few miserable-looking
wooden booths, for the accommodation of Dutch watermen, stood on the
opposite shore.
"Either I behold a fata morgana, or I must be tipsy," groaned
the counsellor. "What can it be? What is the matter with me?" He
turned back in the full conviction that he must be ill. In walking
through the street this time, he examined the houses more closely;
he found that most of them were built of lath and plaster, and many
had only a thatched roof.
"I am certainly all wrong," said he, with a sigh; and yet I only
drank one glass of punch. But I cannot bear even that, and it was very
foolish to give us punch and hot salmon; I shall speak about it to our
hostess, the agent's lady. Suppose I were to go back now and say how
ill I feel, I fear it would look so ridiculous, and it is not very
likely that I should