Hans Brinker/Silver Skates/etc | Page 4

and keeping the shining copper tanks
above them filled with water. The children who come and go carry
away in a curious stone pail their kettle of boiling water and their
blocks of burning peat. For these they give her a Dutch cent, which is
worth less than half of one of ours. In this way persons who cannot
afford to keep a fire burning in hot weather may yet have their cup of
tea or coffee and bit of boiled fish and potato.
After leaving the old fire woman, who nodded a pleasant good-bye to
us, and willingly put our stivers in her great outside pocket, we drove
through the streets enjoying the singular sights of a public washing day.
Yes, in certain quarters of the city, away from the canals, the streets
were lively with washerwomen hard at work. Hundreds of them in
clumsy wooden shoes, with their 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.

Contents

Hans and Gretel Holland The Silver Skates Hans and Gretel Find a
Friend Shadows in the Home Sunbeams Hans Has His Way
Introducing Jacob Poot and His Cousin The Festival of Saint Nicholas
What the Boys Saw and Did in Amsterdam Big Manias and Little
Oddities On the Way to Haarlem A Catastrophe Hans Homes
Haarlem--The Boys Hear Voices The Man with Four Heads Friends in
Need On the Canal Jacob Poot Changes the Plan Mynheer Kleef and
His Bill of Fare The Red Lion Becomes Dangerous Before the Court
The Beleaguered Cities Leyden The Palace in the Wood The Merchant
Prince and the Sister-Princess Through the Hague A Day of Rest
Homeward Bound Boys and Girls The Crisis Gretel and Hilda The
Awakening Bones and Tongues A New Alarm The Father's Return The
Thousand Guilders Glimpses Looking for Work The Fairy Godmother
The Mysterious Watch A Discovery The Race Joy in the Cottage
Mysterious Disappearance of Thomas Higgs Broad Sunshine
Conclusion

Hans and Gretel

On a bright December morning long ago, two thinly clad children were
kneeling upon the bank of a frozen canal in Holland.
The sun had not yet appeared, but the gray sky was parted near the
horizon, and its edges shone crimson with the coming day. Most of the
good Hollanders were enjoying a placid morning nap. Even Mynheer
von Stoppelnoze, that worthy old Dutchman, was still slumbering "in
beautiful repose".
Now and then some peasant woman, poising a well-filled basket upon
her head, came skimming over the glassy surface of the canal; or a
lusty boy, skating to his day's work in the town, cast a good-natured
grimace toward the shivering pair as he flew along.
Meanwhile, with many a vigorous puff and pull, the brother and sister,
for such they were, seemed to be fastening something to their feet--not
skates, certainly, but clumsy pieces of wood narrowed and smoothed at
their lower edge, and pierced with holes, through which were threaded
strings of rawhide.
These queer-looking affairs had been made by the boy Hans. His

mother was a poor peasant woman, too poor even to think of such a
thing as buying skates for her little ones. Rough as these were, they had
afforded the children many a happy hour upon the ice. And now, as
with cold, red fingers our young Hollanders tugged at the strings--their
solemn faces bending closely over their knees--no vision of impossible
iron runners came to dull the satisfaction glowing within.
In a moment the boy arose and, with a pompous swing of the arms and
a careless "Come on, Gretel," glided easily across the canal.
"Ah, Hans," called his sister plaintively, "this foot is not well yet. The
strings hurt me on last market day, and now I cannot bear them tied in
the same place."
"Tie them higher up, then,"