"All quite right, mother," said Marble, a little impatiently; "but what of
all that? It's as nat'ral for a Dutchman to love Holland, as it is for an
Englishman to love Hollands. I've been in the Low Countries, and must say
it's a muskrat sort of a life the people lead; neither afloat nor ashore."

The old woman regarded Marble with more respect after this declaration;
for in that day, a travelled man was highly esteemed among us. In her
eyes, it was a greater exploit to have seen Amsterdam, than it would now
be to visit Jerusalem. Indeed, it is getting rather discreditable to a man
of the world not to have seen the Pyramids, the Red Sea, and the Jordan.

"My father loved it not the less, though he never saw the land of his
ancestors," resumed the old woman. "Notwithstanding the jealousy of the
Yankees, among us Dutch, and the mutual dislike, many of the former came
among us to seek their fortunes. They are not a home-staying people, it
would seem; and I cannot deny that cases have happened in which they have
been known to get away the farms of some of the Netherlands stock, in a
way that it would have been better not to have happened."

"You speak considerately, my dear woman," I remarked, "and like one that
has charity for all human failing."

"I ought to do so for my own sins, and I ought to do so to them of New
England; for my own husband was of that race."

"Ay, now the story is coming round regularly, Miles," said Marble, nodding
his head in approbation. "It will touch on love next, and, if trouble do
not follow, set me down as an ill-nat'red old bachelor. Love in a man's
heart is like getting heated cotton, or shifting ballast, into a
ship's hold."