tucked-up skirts, bare arms, and close-fitting caps, were bending
over tall wooden tubs that reached as high as their
waists--gossiping and rubbing, rubbing and gossiping--with
perfect unconcern, in the public thoroughfare, and all washing
with cold water instead of using hot, as we do. What a grand
thing it would be for our old fire woman if boiling water were
suddenly to become the fashion on these public washing days!

And now goodbye. Oh! I must tell you one more thing. We found
today in an Amsterdam bookstore this story of Hans Brinker told
in Dutch. It is a queer-looking volume, beautifully printed, and
with colored pictures, but filled with such astounding words that
it really made me feel sorry for the little Hollanders who are to
read them.

Good-bye again, in the touching words of our Dutch translator
with whom I'm sure you'll heartily agree: Toch ben ik er mijn
landgenooten dank baar voor, die mijn arbeid steeds zoo
welwillend outvangen en wier genegenheid ik voortdurend hoop te
verdienen.

Yours affectionately,
The Author.




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