black tulip was seen, carried on a litter which was covered with white velvet and fringed with gold.
It was arranged that the Prince Stadtholder himself should give the prize of a hundred thousand guilders, which interested the people at large, and it was thought that, perhaps, he would make a speech which interested more particularly his friends and enemies.
The whole population of Haarlem, swelled by that of the neighbourhood, had arranged itself along the beautiful avenues of trees, with the fixed resolution, this time, to applaud neither the heroes of war, nor those of science, but merely the conqueror of nature, who had forced her to produce the black tulip.
Nothing, however, is more fickle than such a resolution of the people. When a crowd is once in the humour to cheer, it is just the same as when it begins to hiss. It never knows when to stop.
It, therefore, in the first place, cheered Van Herysen and his nosegay, then the corporations, then followed a cheer for the people; and at last, and for once with great justice, there was one for the excellent music with which the gentlemen of the town council generously treated the assemblage at every halt.
All eyes were on the look-out for the hero of the day,—of course we mean the grower of the tulip.
This hero made his appearance at the conclusion of the reading of the report, which we have seen Van Herysen drawing up with such conscientiousness; and he produced almost a greater sensation than the Stadtholder himself.
There he walked, covered with flowers down to his girdle; well combed and brushed and entirely dressed in scarlet, a colour which contrasted strongly with his black hair and yellow complexion.
This hero, radiant with rapturous joy, who had the distinguished honour of making the people forget the speech of Van Herysen, and even the presence of the Stadtholder, was Isaac Boxtel, who saw, carried on his right before him, the black tulip, his pretended daughter; and on his left, in a large purse, the hundred
