Your ever loving sister, J.H.G.

To H.K.F.G.

Hotel de Vieux, Doellen, The Hague. September 27, 1865.

DEAREST D——­,

This morning we had a great treat!  We took an open carriage and drove from the Hague to Scheveningen on the coast.  All the way you go through an avenue of elms, which is lovely.  It is called “the Wood,” and to the left is Sorgoliet, where the Queen mother lives, and which was planted, the man says, by Jacob Cats.  He lived there.  Scheveningen is a bare-looking shore, all sand, and bordered with sandbanks, or Dunes.  It was fiercely hot, scorching, and not an atom of shade to be had; but in spite of sun, slipping sandbank-seat, sand-fleas, and a hornet circling round, I did make a sketch, which I hope to finish at home.  Both Regie and I bathed, and it was delicious—­an utterly calm sea, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.  The bathing machines seem to be a Government affair.  They and the towels are marked with a stork, and you take a ticket and get your gown and towels from a man at a “bureau” on the sands.  I must tell you, this morning when we came down, we found breakfasting in the salle-a-manger our Dutch friend, the bulb merchant.  We had our breakfast put at his table, and had a jolly chat.  It was so pleasant!  Like meeting an old friend.  He has gone, I am sorry to say, but I have made great friends with Stephanie’s father; he cannot speak a word of English, so we can only talk in such French as I can muster; but he is very pleasant, and his children are so nice! eight—­four boys and four girls.  The wife is Dutch, and I do not think can speak French, so I do not talk to her.  After dinner the maitre d’hotel asked us if we would not go to “the Wood” (on the road to Scheveningen), and hear the military band—­so we went.  I can’t describe it.  It was like nothing but scenes in a theatre.  Pitch dark in all the avenues, except for little lamps like tiny tumblers fixed on to the trees, and so [Sketch] on to the Pavilion, which was lighted up by chains of similar lamps like an illumination—­[Sketch]—­and round which—­seated round little green tables—­were gathered, I suppose, about two thousand people.  Their politeness to each other—­the perfect good-behaviour, the quiet and silence during the music, and the buzz and movement when it was over, were wonderful.  The music was very good.  R. and I had each a tiny cup of coffee, and a little brandy and water, for it was very cold!!  Now I have come in, and he has gone back, I think.  Stephanie was there, and lots of children.  As I lay awake last night I heard the old watchman go round.  He beats two pieces of wood together and calls the hours of the night.  I saw a funeral too, this morning, and the coachman wears a hat like this—­[Sketch].  In the streets we have met men in black with cocked hats.  They are “Ansprekers,” who go