tion is about 1l. per annum, and beyond the perpetual cigars, the evening’s entertainment rarely entails an outlay of more than a few pence. It is a little noisy at first, from the variety of games that are going forward, and the buz of voices in constant chatter; but you soon get used to this, and begin to enjoy in common with everybody about you, the temperate hilarity of a gathering where, stranger though you be, you are at once put at your ease by the unaffected bonhomie of the members.
Ypres is incredibly tranquil, considering that it is one of the great schools of equitation of Belgium. You see people moving about, but can detect nothing in the shape of work going forward. The shops generally look tolerably well furnished; but you never see anybody buying anything in them. One might wonder, under such circumstances, how the people contrive to get the means of living, were it not that they live under conditions which enable them to live for next to nothing. A family, adapting themselves to the local ways of life, might batten flourishingly here on 200l. or 3001. a-year, and keep their carriage on 400l.
But that is only the practical side of the question. If we look a little beyond bread and mutton, it is quite a different affair. Literature is at a discount in Ypres. I will not venture to say that the art of reading is not cultivated here; but, if it be, there can be no hesitation in saying that it is cultivated under difficulties. There is a bookshop in the town, which is as much as can be said about it; for it is evident from its contents that stationery is more in demand than print. To the credit, however, of a population that has something else to do than to read, an excellent free library has been established within the last twenty years. It contains probably 20,000 volumes, is open three or four times a week, and has an average of about a dozen visitors per day. The books are well selected, and the shelves are enriched by the addition of some curious and valuable illuminated MSS.
These primitive people take scarcely any interest in politics. It is astonishing how little they know or care about what is going on in the rest of Europe. If you hear the name of Garibaldi, it is, most likely, in connection with a piece of news at least a month old. Simple, cordial, and friendly, they live in a round of old-fashioned usages and ideas, which is quite marvellous in this age of stratagem and movement. They like the English, and dislike the French. France, indeed, is the only foreign point upon which they are at all strong, either in knowledge or opinion. They are justly proud of their freedom, and jealous of French influences; and some of them even express distrust of M. Rogier, whom they describe as a “Frenchman.” The only party in the country that abuses and hates England and the English are the priests; but in Belgium, as everywhere else, the power of the priests, for good or evil, is fast breaking up.
At the time I write Ypres is occupied in preparations for a grand fête, which may be regarded as a demonstration, not less of popular devotion to the wise constitutional Sovereign of this kingdom, than as a popular protest against any encroachment by the despotism over the border. The King, who has not visited the town since 1833, comes here on the 16th, and for many weeks past nothing has been thought of but garlands and flags and illuminations. The organisation for getting up the requisite means of giving his Majesty a worthy reception is quite perfect in its way. Each street appoints its own committee to go round and collect subscriptions for providing it with devices, lights, flags, and festoons. In this street, where the King is to be lodged, next door but one to my hotel, the sum of 120l. has been collected for the purpose; and the rich proprietor who receives royalty, after having already subscribed no less than 20l. to the street fund, is, I am told, expending upon the illumination and decoration of the front of his own house no less than 4001. The enthusiasm of the people exceeds all bounds. You cannot get any information upon any subject except fête; there is nothing else talked of, or dreamt of; and I find myself very much in the plight of the gentleman at Hamburg who could not get a reply to a question from anybody, people were so absorbed in trente et quarante. Like him, I have lost my thread of contemporary history, and can’t tell what day of the month it is. If I ask, I shall be sure to receive for answer that it is the 16th. There is but one day in this current month of September for the inhabitants of Ypres, and that is the day when the King is to make his appearance amongst them; but that day I know has not come yet, because the King has not come, although it is palpably close at hand, from the hammering I hear on all sides, the ladders that are stretching up against the fronts of the houses, and the multitudes of lamps and lanterns and artificial flowers and great boughs of evergreen that are passing and re-passing in all directions through the streets. The bustle grows more and more enlivening; crowds are collecting at corners; business seems to be abandoned in the universal burst of affectionate loyalty; and so, lest the people at the post-office should lose their heads in the general delirium, I will close my letter, and despatch it at once.
BARLOW BROTHERS’ BOOKS.
Between twenty and thirty years ago Reuben and Samuel Barlow commenced to trade together as grocers under the style and title of Barlow Brothers. Up to the present day a brass-plate may be seen—by those who know where to look for it—bearing the inscription, “Barlow Brothers, Grocers.” When the plate was first engraved it was displayed at the door of a shop, where men, if so minded, might purchase ounces of tea and pennyworths of figs. In those early days Reuben and Samuel stood themselves behind the counter, and how humble soever the customers, whose wants they might be called upon to supply, there was no diminution in the courtesy with which they were wont to demand, “How can we serve thee this morning?” or “Shall we send it in, or wilt thou take it with thee?” But, after fifteen or sixteen prosperous years, Barlow Brothers went so far towards kicking down the
