Sunday afternoon, I left Brussels for Antwerp (Anvers). Nothing can be
more delightful than the rural scenery of Belgium. The whole country is
as carefully tilled as a garden--every foot of available soil being under
cultivation. Most of the dwelling houses are small, but everything about
the houses, yards and gardens is kept in the most perfect order.
Occasionally, a beautiful vista opens to a fine residence in the distance.
As we rode along in the cars, we would occasionally see an afternoon or
evening party seated around a richly laden table glittering with
glassware, and enjoy their dinners and suppers under some shade trees in
the midst of their gardens. This custom is common in Europe, and presents
most beautiful and homely sights.

Soon after I had entered the cars, I noticed that the tone of the
conversation among the passengers was different from what I had been
accustomed to hear in France and Belgium thus far. I now heard the chatter
of the Dutch, but understood no more than if it had been so much French.
Dutch and German are two entirely different languages. Dutch print in the
newspapers does, however, not look so perfectly strange, as the
conversation sounds to the ear.

After arriving at Antwerp I was soon found by a porter who conducted me to
a German Hotel. How social and hospitable these Germans are--and, I must
add, Europeans in general. _Die "Deutsche Wirthschaft"_ (German Hotel)
occupied quite a small building, which presented a very ordinary
appearance on the outside, but I shall never forget that carpeted
bar-room, the costly furniture of the parlor, and the accommodating
landlady which we found there. Taste and comfort are always consulted,
even where the greatest simplicity prevails.