trusted in the seven seals and the signatures of the European powers, and were content therewith.
As Mynheer de Vries went home he said to his son Simon, "Have you given your full attention? Such a day as this, please God, you will never see in your life again." But any one a little way off would not have found out from his walk and bearing that Mynheer de Vries had thus explained to his son that greatest of benefits—a citizen's freedom. He spoke with such quiet thoughtfulness, so devoid of all outward excitement, evincing that immovable tenacity of the Netherlanders, who, even where their passions were concerned, still held to the national ideal, the "makklyk," the comfortable. At home Mynheer Dodimus embraced his beloved wife in an ecstasy of joy.
"See, my dear," he said, pointing to the tulip bulbs, "they can grow on peaceful ground, and my tea has risen a third in price, for the soldiers who are now coming home have not drunk tea for so long that they will enjoy it all the more."
He sat down to table quietly and in silence, and endeavored to control the extraordinary excitement which had disturbed him during the day. That evening he drank half a glass more than his usual quantity; he did not speak a word at table, and before tea came in he slept in peace.
It is a good thing that the house of the De Vries is far from the Thunderbolt ale-house. The shouts