curiosity which was devouring him. In the evening,
therefore, he placed a ladder against the partition wall
between their gardens, and, looking into that of his
neighbour Van Baerle, he convinced himself that the soil of
a large square bed, which had formerly been occupied by
different plants, was removed, and the ground disposed in
beds of loam mixed with river mud (a combination which is
particularly favourable to the tulip), and the whole
surrounded by a border of turf to keep the soil in its
place. Besides this, sufficient shade to temper the noonday
heat; aspect south-southwest; water in abundant supply, and
at hand; in short, every requirement to insure not only
success but also progress. There could not be a doubt that
Van Baerle had become a tulip-grower.

Boxtel at once pictured to himself this learned man, with a
capital of four hundred thousand and a yearly income of ten
thousand guilders, devoting all his intellectual and
financial resources to the cultivation of the tulip. He
foresaw his neighbour's success, and he felt such a pang at
the mere idea of this success that his hands dropped
powerless, his knees trembled, and he fell in despair from
the ladder.

And thus it was not for the sake of painted tulips, but for
real ones, that Van Baerle took from him half a degree of
warmth. And thus Van Baerle was to have the most admirably
fitted aspect, and, besides, a large, airy, and well
ventilated chamber where to preserve his bulbs and
seedlings; while he, Boxtel, had been obliged to give up for