In the model dairy farm of Broek, through which visitors file during the time allowed by the steam-boat’s captain, things happen as they should:  the cows’ tails are tied to the roof, and all is spick and span.  The author of Through Noord-Holland tells us that among the dairy’s illustrious visitors was an Italian duchess from Livorno who ordered cheese for herself, for the Princess Borghese and for the Duke of Ceri.  Everything in the farm, he adds, “is glimmering and glittering”.

One of the phenomena of Broek is thus explained by the same ingenious author:  “By beholding the dark-tinted columns attentively one sees something dull here and there.  In the year 1825, when the great flood inundated whole Broek, men as well as cattle flied into the church, which lies so much higher and remained quite free of water.  By the exhalations of the cows, the cow-damp, has the wood been blemished and made dull at many places, chamois nor polish could help, the dullness remained.”  The church has beauties to set against the phenomenon of cow-damp, and among them a very elaborate carved pulpit in various preclious woods, and some fine lamps.

Ireland tells us that the front doors of many of Broek’s houses are opened only twice in their owners’ lives—­when they marry and when they die.  For the rest the back door must serve.  The custom is not confined to Broek, but is found all over North Holland.  These ceremonial front doors are often very ornate.  It was also at Broek that Ireland picked up his information as to the best means of winning the Dutch heart.  “Laughable as it may seem, a safe expedient to insure the affections of the lower class of these lasses, is to arm yourself well with gingerbread.  The first question the lover is asked after knocking at the door, when the parents are supposed to be in bed, is, ‘Have you any gingerbread?’ If he replies in the affirmative, he finds little difficulty in gaining admission.  A second visit ensures his success, and the lady yields.”

I can add a little to this.  When a young man thinks of courting he first speaks to the parents, and if they are willing to encourage him he is asked to spend the evening with their daughter.  They then discreetly retire to bed and leave the world to him.  Under his arm is a large cake, not necessarily of gingerbread, and this he deposits on the table, with or without words.  If he is acceptable in the girl’s eyes she at once puts some more peat on the fire.  He then knows that all is well with him:  the cake is cut, and Romance is king.  But if the fire is not replenished he must gather up his cake and return to his home.  A very favourite Dutch picture represents “The Cutting of the Cake”.  I have heard that the Dutch wife takes her husband’s left arm; the Dutch fiancee her lover’s right.

Monnickendam, on the shores of the Zuyder Zee, is now a desolate sleepy spot; once it was one of the great towns of Holland, at the time when The Hague was a village.  I say Zuyder Zee, but strictly speaking it is on the Gouwzee, the name of the straits between Monnickendam and Marken.  It is here, in winter, when the ice holds, that a fair is held, to which come all Amsterdam on skates, to eat poffertjes and wafelen,