568 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
[ December 25, 1890, 
for here I am in the thick of them. But I must return to my “ typical ” 
friend. It is not altogether mental wanderings that he wants, for he 
says (meaning himself and other “ types,” I presume) “ we don’t always 
want feeding with Chrysanthemums nor with heavy dishes of the ‘ best 
soil.’ We don’t want to know how we are to do this that or the other 
when we can’t do it, or after we have done it, and then have to wait 
nearly another year before we can do it again ; but we want a mixed 
'menu—something solid and something light, for you know the old story 
of all work and no play and its gloomy results. Perhaps it is because 
we brothers of the spade work so hard that we have got into a dull way 
■of expressing ourselves. We all seem to think on the same lines and 
plod on in the same groove. We want to straighten our backs now and 
then, and not for ever have our noses to the grindstone. We don’t want 
to be continually telling each other what we are doing as if we were so 
many clever Jack Horners, but we want to know what is going on just 
outside the circle of hard routine, and thus spend a pleasant few 
minutes of free reading after a hard day’s toil; so please give us a few 
more wanderings, not forgetting the episodes and occurrences that are 
met with even if they are not strictly * gardenesque.’ ” 
That is the letter before me, and I am inclined to think if it had 
been addressed to me I should have sent it back to the author with a 
request for a “ type ” of what he really does want, for he is evidently 
my equal in wandering. Perhaps he will do so yet ; I hope so, and I 
will do what I can to lead him on if he will follow me over the ocean. 
He need not be afraid of my exploring for his identity. If I did I 
should not get it. I once had a rather curious experience of difficulty 
of getting a name from an editor. It happened many years ago, but 
as I am invited to “ wander,” I shall neither be bound by limits of 
time nor space. 
An article once appeared in a certain newspaper which a certain 
gentleman did not like. As he was a personal friend of the conductor 
he was, on calling, invited into his presence, where I also happened to 
be making a few arrangements with the view to possible eventualities. 
“ Ah, good morning, my dear fellow, what a capital article that was in 
which I am honoured with prominence. Of course I cannot agree with 
everything in it, but the writer has put the case well from his point of 
view, and I am sure I should enjoy his friendship, if I do not already. 
You couldn’t get me an introduction, could you? ” “Oh yes I could,” 
replied the Editor, and the interviewer rubbed his hands gleefully; 
•“ that is to say if I have permission. I will write and ask for it if you 
like.” Checkmated decidedly, and then followed irateness, with first a 
“ demand ” and then a threat of an action. “ Yery well,” was the 
calm response. “ Mr. So-aDd-so is my lawyer, so it is useless our dis¬ 
cussing the subject further.” There was an interchange of professional 
letters, but the coveted “ introduction ” was never brought about; the 
writer’s name was not obtained by the Editor’s friend, and it certainly 
never will be, for he is dead, and that ends the matter. But the prin¬ 
ciple lives, and I am satisfied it is useless attempting to draw an editor, 
therefore my typical prompter can remain in obscurity just as long as 
lie likes. 
Now we are off. After reading about “ foreign parts,” a very dear 
friend, whom I will call Joan, asked if I would take her to the 
Continent. “ Certainly ; I will take you anywhere, from the Isle of 
Man to the Rocky Mountains—where is it to be 1 ” It did not appear 
to be westwards, but eastwards, that the thoughts were trending, for the 
answer came, “ I want to see Antwerp Cathedral, and I should like to 
see Mr. Van Geert and Mr. Everaerts ; then that beautiful park I have 
been reading about at Brussels ; and I should like to visit Ghent and 
■see the Van Houttes ; go up the Rhine and see the old castles; then 
round into Holland, and ”—but that was enough for me, so I mildly 
suggested we had better first get to Antwerp and then go—well, accord¬ 
ing to the weather. It is now a case of Darby and Joan packing up, 
watching the wind, and trying to snatch a fine day and calm sea to 
speed us on our journey. It is a long time ago now, but that is of no 
consequence; we waited till the wind ceased blowing, and on the 
morning of the last day of August we hove in sight of the famous 
cathedral. It must be understood I did not go to Belgium in search of 
materials on which to write ; and only a little can be remembered out 
of the much that was seen and enjoyed, but we do not forget the 
journey. 
The route to select was a matter of serious discussion. One train 
started from London at 10 A.M., but that was too early, so we determined 
to go at midday, but missed the Thames steamer, and there was then 
nothing for it but to run down to Harwich and cro3S in the night. The 
steamers are large and fine, garnished with plants and flowers, and 
lighted with electricity. The nighc was clear, and water only broken by 
small ripples, from which the moonlight glinted, making a track like 
shimmering gold. The deck was pleasant, but after midnight we went 
below—Joan in charge of the stewardess, Darby looking after himself, 
which he has been trying to do under various circumstances for about 
half a century with more or less of success. He was fairly successful 
that night—at least for a time after, as the hymn-like song says, 
“ He laid him down in peace to sleep, 
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.” 
But he had a rough awakening—a short but sharp shaking, as if 
being sent up like a shuttlecock, and on coming down again hit and 
knocked sideways, then caught once more and sent spinning, but before 
he got anywhere definitely had another great thump upwards, and so on 
for an hour or so. It was very different from digging. You know 
where you are when you are at spade work, but you are never in the 
same place for two seconds and never know where you are going next 
when you are made the sport of the Storm King, even if he is not in his 
most violent mood. Poor Joan was, however, more cruelly treated. A 
night-long attack of mal de mer in its worst form was her sid fate, and 
the stewardess, after being specially “ tipped ” to give her special 
attention, slept like a top through it all, neither storm, silver, nor sick¬ 
ness disturbing her sweet slumbers. It is as well to tell the truth in 
these matters, and it is true that there was no tipping on the return 
journey ; and thus we learn wisdom by experience. 
We landed on a Sunday morning, and Sundays over there differ 
somewhat from Sundays at home. The crowds in the streets ; the 
processions with their banners and their bands ; the brisk trade in 
shops, cafbs, and estaminets or taverns, with the overflow outside them, 
where men, women, and children quaff their bock from the tables 
across the pathway—all this is a little strange to a first visitor who has 
not been “ brought up ” to such customs as there prevail. But the 
crowd is not rough. The country folk, we were told, work hard and 
live hard all the week, then dress for a day’s enjoyment in the towns on 
Sunday. Many come in dog-carts, but they are different from ours, for 
dogs draw carts there, sometimes three abreast, and sometimes running 
tandem ; and perhaps if the Belgian peasants were told that our dog 
carts were made for dogs to ride in they would think us a very peculiar 
people. “ But surely,” we can imagine some of our good friends 
saying, “you did not spend your Sunday in that way?” No, we did 
not—at least, not exactly, for we kept out of the dog carts, and we did 
go to the cathedral service. High mass there is an imposing cere¬ 
monial. The magnificent paintings around you, the huge building 
filled with glorious music, and the great bell booming in unison ; the 
genuflexions of the priests half hidden in clouds of incense, and the 
evident devotion of the good Catholics to their service, was altogether 
something to be remembered. Apart from the paintings the cathedral 
does not startle by its interior beauty, but the tower, rising from the 
ground to a height of 402 feet, is superb by its architectural elegance, 
justifying its comparison by the first Napoleon with a piece of Mechlin 
lace. 
We pass from the service into the Place Verte, once the churchyard, 
and now a large square of trees, with plenty of space for promenading 
between them, and find an open air concert in full swing, the cathedral 
congregation increasing the audience materially. From church direct 
to concerts appears to be quite the correct thing. The people seem to 
think they are none the worse for having been to church first, and 
appear to know very well that in our country many persons attend 
concerts regularly who never go to church. However, we did not linger 
at the concert, but went to the Plantin Museum, because nobody in 
Belgium seems to go home on a fine Sunday till he can help it. This 
museum contains a marvellous collection of everything in connection 
with printing, arranged in the ancient mansion of the Plantin-Moretus 
family, who carried on their famous business in the building for nearly 
three centuries. It was acquired with the ancient furniture, family 
portraits, tapestries, and stock-in-trade by the Corporation of Antwerp, 
and is free to visitors. Taking it all in all its equal is probably not 
to be found ; and the systematic arrangement of its wonderful contents 
by Mr. Max Roosas, the accomplished director, is a triumph of patience 
and persevering work. Mr. Roosas, it may be added, is a son-in-law of 
Mr. Van Geert, and world-famed as a linguist and archaeologist. A 
drive down the boulevards followed, and now you have what is regarded 
as a very proper way of spending Sunday in Antwerp, with perhaps a 
turn into the Zoological Gardens at night, to sip coffee and listen to the 
music under a canopy of foliage. There sit thousands round the little 
tables, and feel more comfortable outside than in so long as the weather 
remains agreeable. 
The next day, September 1st, will be remembered in Antwerp as the 
date of the introduction of omnibuses similar to those in London, and 
the new vehicles laden with passengers on the top caused quite a flutter 
of excitement. People flocked out of their houses to see them, and the 
drivers and conductors were tempted by innkeepers to “ take something,” 
perhaps as an inducement to establish stopping places on the way. The 
’buses did a great trade from the first, and so keen were passengers for 
outside seats that they would not go inside, even when it rained, so long 
as there was room on the ton. Trams have long been established, and 
the cars though plain are convenient. They are not enclosed in summer, 
but plain benches are arranged across a platform, about 18 inches above 
the ground, with a foot-board a little lower, running along the outside, 
on and off which passengers step all along the line—at least, those who 
are used to it, and they appear to be the majority. But if the 
Antwerpians were behind us with omnibuses, they lead us in some 
other respects ; for instance, in public telephones, and by payment of a 
trifle anybody may talk with anybody else with whom he is put in com¬ 
munication in any part of this large, prosperous, and highly interesting 
ancient and modern city. 
What strikes a stranger whose linguistic attainments is limited to his 
mother tongue is not the language he hears only, but which he sees 
displayed on signs and buildings. If a tradesman has wall enough he 
will tell you a good deal in Dutch or Flemish of what he is, does, makes, 
or sells ; and you could almost fancy that long words are chosen as 
if to impress with the extent of the business, especially when it is 
obviously small. Something of the same kind is perhaps not un¬ 
known in other countries, including our own, for small people are 
apt to try and make themselves look greater than they are. But 
to these rows of Dutch letters that puzzle you so ; the guide, who 
speaks English and Flemish too, will tell you there is not much 
