maid and men servants to her aid, when her guests came to actual
fighting, or some one drank more than was good for him. Here the new
custom of tobacco-smoking was practised, though only by a few sailors who
had served on Spanish ships--but Frau Van Aken could not endure the acrid
smoke and opened the windows, which were filled with blooming pinks,
slender stalks of balsam, and cages containing bright-plumaged
goldfinches. On the side opposite to the entrance were two closed rooms.
Above the door of one, neatly carved in wood, were the lines from Horace:

"Ille terrarum mihi praeter omnes.
Angulus ridet."

[Of all the corners of the world,
There is none that so charms me.]

Only a few chosen guests found admittance into this long, narrow
apartment. It was completely wainscoted with wood, and from the centre
of the richly-carved ceiling a strange picture gleamed in brilliant hues.
This represented the landlord. The worthy man with the smooth face,
firmly-closed lips, and long nose, which offered an excellent straight
line to its owner's burin, sat on a throne in the costume of a Roman
general, while Vulcan and Bacchus, Minerva and Poinona, offered him
gifts. Klaus Van Aken, or as he preferred to be called, Nicolaus
Aquanus, was a singular man, who had received good gifts from more than
one of the Olympians; for besides his business he zealously devoted
himself to science and several of the arts. He was an excellent silver-
smith, a die-cutter and engraver of great skill, had a remarkable
knowledge of coins, was an industrious student and collector of
antiquities. His little tap-room was also a museum; for on the shelves,
that surrounded it, stood rare objects of every description, in rich