1885.] SAND-PLAINS OF BELGIUM. 271 



are they at the present day. Not one of them would consent to 

 leave their village ; no one who was not born there ever conies to 

 it ; they invariably intermarry among themselves ; they siJeak a 

 language of their own; they all dress alike, and wear the same 

 coloured garments as their fathers' fathers wore before them. In 

 the fishing season, only the women and children remain at home ; the 

 men all go to sea, and take theii- Bibles with them. On board they 

 are never drunk ; they neither laugh nor swear. "WTien the stormy 

 billows lift their little skiffs to tremendous heights, and violently 

 dash them down again, they close the port-holes and resignedly 

 await the end. At such times the women closeted in their cottages, 

 hearing the wind and rain howling and pattering upon the roof, 

 strive to ease their anxious aching hearts by singing psalms. 

 Those humble little dwellings which have witnessed so many pan»s 

 of deadly anxiety, have heard so many widows' heartrending sobs, 

 and again the liearty joy of wives and daughters at meeting once 

 more those they had scarcely dared to hope they should ever see 

 again — those little cottages witli their white blinds, their trim 

 scrupulous neatness, the sailors' jackets and shirts hanging out of 

 their windows, illustrate their inmates' free and dignified poverty. 

 Never has an iinprincij)led vagabond, or a bad woman, issued forth 

 from these houses ; no native of Scheveningen ever deserted the 

 sea ; no Scheveningen girl was ever known to scorn a fisherman's 

 offer. In the carriage of their head, and the expression of their eye, 

 lurks an air of haughty gravity which commands respect. They 

 bow to you in passing without lowering their brow ; they look you 

 straight in the eyes as much as to say, ' We stand in need of no 

 one.' " 



Even in this little village there are two schools, and the feeling 

 experienced at seeing a band of fair-haired children^each with a 

 slate under his or her arm, a bit of chalk in his hand — dispersing at 

 a stated hour all about the squalid alleys defies description. 



Of the appearance of the women he gives the following account : 

 — " On the day after my arrival, while strolling about the streets, I 

 met a group of women dressed in so singular a fashion that I was 

 unable to refrain from following them to examine the peculiarity of 

 their attire. At first sight I fancied they must either be members 

 of some religious order, female hermits or pUgrims, or that they 

 belonged to some nomadic tribe passing through Holland. They 

 wore a huge straw hat lined with flowered print; a serge 

 chocolate-coloured monk's cape with a red lining ; a short serge 

 skirt so full that it looked as if a crinoline was under it ; black 

 stockings and white shoes. Every morning they might be seen 

 going to market with a basket of fish lialanced upon their heads, or 



