For, strange as it may seem, with a situation where land and ocean struggle for supremacy, Rotterdam, as well as almost all the other Dutch cities, is in the condition of Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, with "Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink." I refer, however, to good drops. There are, of course, stale, insipid, and malodorous drops; but pure, sweet, wholesome water, the best gift of God, is not easily found in the Low Countries. I was not much surprised, therefore, to see two men propelling through the various canals a barge contain-ingcasks of drinking water, which they announced by cries resembling those of our itinerant venders of oranges and strawberries. People who have no cisterns buy it by the gallon; the price, of course, varying in times of drought, or in midwinter when the canals are frozen. It is not strange, then, that not far from Rotterdam is a thriving town, in which three hundred distilleries produce the finest gin the world affords. Personally speaking, of all liquors, gin is the least attractive to my taste; but, as a choice of evils, if I had for any length of time to imbibe the natural water of Rotterdam, I certainly should be tempted to disguise its taste with what the Dutch call schnapps.

Among other Dutch peculiarities, I noticed that almost every man in Rotterdam had a cigar or pipe in his mouth.

Water Barges.

The Hollanders are inveterate smokers. The boatmen, it is-said, measure distances by smoke and reckon, not so many miles from place to place, but so many pipes. Some Dutchmen, it is alleged, go to sleep at night with their pipes between their lips, so that they may find them there the first thing in the morning, and light them before rising to the duties and trials of another day. Tobacco smoke is, therefore, called their second breath, and a cigar the sixth finger of their hands.

This habit, combined with the peculiar climate, makes them the calmest, most phlegmatic people upon earth. Smoking in America's dry atmosphere excites and irritates; but among the Dutch canals it drugs and stupefies. In one of the streets of Rotterdam, I was shown the home of the greatest smoker that the world has known. Mein-heer Van Klaes, as he was called, consumed, on the average, one hundred and fifty grams of tobacco every day, yet lived till he was ninety-eight years old. His last will and testament was extraordinary. After bequeathing most of his possessions to his relatives, he thus directed how he should be buried: "I wish that all my friends who are smokers shall be specially invited to my funeral. Each of them shall receive a package of tobacco and two pipes, and they are requested to smoke uninterruptedly during the funeral ceremonies. My body shall be enclosed in a coffin lined with the wood of my old cigar boxes. Beside me in the casket shall be laid my favorite meerschaum, a box of matches, and a package of tobacco. When my body is lowered into the grave, every person present is requested to pass by and cast upon it the ashes from his pipe." These touching requests, it is said, were faithfully complied with. His friends attended in prodigious numbers; and, at the funeral, the smoke was so dense that a horn had to be blown to enable the mourners to find the door.

A Ditch Flower Market.

From this city of the champion smoker, we journeyed to the still more interesting Dutch metropolis, Amsterdam. This has been often called the "Venice of the North"; but the title is somewhat of a misnomer. It is true, there is a certain general resemblance between the cities, from the fact that Amsterdam is founded upon ninety islands, furrowed by miles of liquid streets, spanned by about three hundred bridges; moreover, the sea is in her thoroughfares and laves the doorsteps of her shops and houses; but there all likeness between Amsterdam and its Italian rival ends. While the Dutch city calls forth admiration and respect, the Adriatic Queen inspires a romantic sentiment akin to love. Venice is golden; Amsterdam is gray. The City of the Doges is poetical; that of the Dutch Burghers is prosaic. The southern city is voluptuous and tender, mysterious with her memories of splendor and decay. The city of the North is cold and practical, with a complacent air of solid worth and unimpeachable respectability.