introduces me to "Moïse," "Dahvit mit de 'arp," and others. Kind of
him--but I wish he would go. Offer him twopence. Boy declines with
indignation. Young Belgium evidently high-minded and sensitive. He
informs me that, in a certain church he refers to as "Sin Yack," there
are "RUBENS' peecture--moch fine," and plainly proposes to conduct
me thither. Mustn't hurt his feelings again--so accept. Boy clumps
on ahead, down alleys, and through back-streets, and round corners,
looking round severely at intervals to see that I am not giving him
the slip. Nice friendly little fellow--but despotic. Don't seem to be
much nearer; "Sin Yack" evidently a saint of retiring disposition....
At last. Boy points him out triumphantly. Thank him, with apologies
for taking him so much out of his way. Boy demands two francs. Hint,
as delicately as possible, that I consider this estimate of the value
of his time and society somewhat high. Boy peremptory. Give him fifty
centimes. Boy abusive; follows me with uncomplimentary remarks. I can
_not_ go about Antwerp all day with a hostile boy harassing my rear
like this! So undignified. However, shall find sanctuary with "Sin
Yack." Every door closed. Boy at a distance--chuckling, I am afraid.
Shall walk on--not _hurrying_, but briskly. Boy gone at last--thank
goodness!--with Parthian yelp of "Rosbif!"

[Illustration: "Rosbif!"]

_In the Cathedral._--Being shown round by Sacristan, in company with
two respectable young Britons. "You shee dot oltarbiece, gentlemens,"
says Sacristan, "paint by RUBENS, in seexteen day, for seexteen
hondert florin." Whereupon both Britons make a kind of "cluck" with
their tongues. "Dat vos von hondert florin efery day he vas paint,"
explains the Sacristan. Britons do this division sum in their heads,
check it as correct, and evidently feel increased respect for RUBENS