CROPS AND PROFITS. 175 



Three great traveller's dishes of strawberries are 

 in my mind. 



The first was at an inn in the quaint Dutch town 

 of Broek : I can see now the heaped dish of mam- 

 moth crimson berries, the mug of luscious cream 

 standing sentry, the round red cheese upon its plat- 

 ter, the tidy hostess, with arms akimbo, looking 

 proudly on it all : the leaves flutter idly at the lat- 

 ticed window, through which I see wide stretches 

 of level meadow, broad-armed windmills flapping 

 their sails leisurely, cattle lying in lazy groups 

 under the shade -of scattered trees ; and there is no 

 sound to break the June stillness, except the buzzing 

 of the bees that are feeding upon the blossoms of the 

 linden which overhangs the inn. 



I thought I had never eaten finer berries than the 

 Dutch berries. 



The second dish was at the Douglas-Hotel in the 

 city of Edinboro' ; a most respectable British tavern, 

 with a heavy solid sideboard in its parlor ; heavy 

 solid silver upon its table ; heavy and solid chairs 

 with cushions of shining mohair ; a heavy and solid 

 figure of a landlord ; and heavy and solid figures in 

 the reckoning. 



The berries were magnificent ; served upon 

 quaint old India-china, with stems upon them, and to 

 be eaten as one might eat a fig, with successive bites, 



