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〃What are the Blue Stairs； Lambert？〃 asked Ben。
〃They are the highest point of the Dunes。 You have a grand view of the ocean from there； besides a fine chance to see how wonderful these dunes are。 One can hardly believe that the wind could ever heap up sand in so remarkable a way。 But we have to go through Bloemendal to get there； not a very pretty village； and some distance from here。 What do you say？〃
〃Oh； I am ready for anything。 For my part； I would rather steer direct for Leyden； but we'll do as the captain sayshey； Jacob？〃
〃Ya； dat ish goot；〃 said Jacob； who felt decidedly more like taking a nap than ascending the Blue Stairs。
The captain was in favor of going to Leyden。
〃It's four long miles from here。 Full sixteen of your English miles； Benjamin。 We have no time to lose if you wish to reach there before midnight。 Decide quickly； boysBlue Stairs or Leyden？〃
〃Leyden；〃 they answered； and were out of Haarlem in a twinkling； admiring the lofty； towerlike windmills and pretty country seats as they left the city behind them。
〃If you really wish to see Haarlem；〃 said Lambert to Ben； after they had skated awhile in silence； 〃you should visit it in summer。 It is the greatest place in the world for beautiful flowers。 The walks around the city are superb； and the 'wood' with its miles of noble elms； all in full feather； is something to remember。 You need not smile； old fellow； at my saying 'full feather。' I was thinking of waving plumes and got my words mixed up a little。 But a Dutch elm beats everything； it is the noblest tree on earth； Benif you except the English oak。〃
〃Aye；〃 said Ben solemnly； 〃IF you except the English oak。〃 And for some moments he could scarcely see the canal because Robby and Jenny kept bobbing in the air before his eyes。
Friends in Need
In the meantime； the other boys were listening to Peter's account of an incident which had occurred long ago *｛Sir Thomas Carr's tour through Holland。｝ in a part of the city where stood an ancient castle； whose lord had tyrannized over the burghers of the town to such an extent that they surrounded his castle and laid siege to it。 Just at the last extremity； when the haughty lord felt that he could hold out no longer and was prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible； his lady appeared on the ramparts and offered to surrender everything； provided she was permitted to bring out； and retain； as much of her most precious household goods as she could carry upon her back。 The promise was given； and the lady came forth from the gateway； bearing her husband upon her shoulders。 The burghers' pledge preserved him from the fury of the troops but left them free to wreak their vengeance upon the castle。
〃Do you BELIEVE that story； Captain Peter？〃 asked Carl in an incredulous tone。
〃Of course； I do。 It is historical。 Why should I doubt it？〃
〃Simply because no woman could do itand if she could； she wouldn't。 That is my opinion。〃
〃And I believe that there are many who WOULD。 That is； to save those they really cared for；〃 said Ludwig。
Jacob； who in spite of his fat and sleepiness was of rather a sentimental turn； had listened with deep interest。
〃That is right； little fellow；〃 he said； nodding his head approvingly。 〃I believe every word of it。 I shall never marry a woman who would not be glad to do as much for ME。〃
〃Heaven help her！〃 cried Carl； turning to gaze at the speaker。 〃Why； Poot； three MEN couldn't do it！〃
〃Perhaps not；〃 said Jacob quietly； feeling that he had asked rather too much of the future Mrs。 Poot。 〃But she must be WILLING； that is all。〃
〃Aye；〃 responded Peter's cheery voice； 〃willing heart makes nimble footand who knows； but it may make strong arms also。〃
〃Pete；〃 asked Ludwig； changing the subject； 〃did you tell me last night that the painter Wouwerman was born in Haarlem？〃
〃Yes； and Jacob Ruysdael and Berghem too。 I like Berghem because he was always good…natured。 They say he always sang while he painted； and though he died nearly two hundred years ago； there are traditions still afloat concerning his pleasant laugh。 He was a great painter； and he had a wife as cross as Xantippe。〃
〃They balanced each other finely；〃 said Ludwig。 〃He was kind and she was cross。 But； Peter； before I forget it； wasn't that picture of Saint Hubert and the horse painted by Wouwerman？ You remember； Father showed us an engraving from it last night。〃
〃Yes； indeed。 There is a story connected with that picture。〃
〃Tell us！〃 cried two or three； drawing closer to Peter as they skated on。
〃Wouwerman；〃 began the captain oratorically； 〃was born in 1620； just four years before Berghem。 He was a master of his art and especially excelled in painting horses。 Strange as it may seem； people were so long finding out his merits that； even after he had arrived at the height of his excellence； he was obliged to sell his pictures for very paltry prices。 The poor artist became completely discouraged； and； worst of all； was over head and ears in debt。 ne day he was talking over his troubles with his father…confessor； who was one of the few who recognized his genius。 The priest determined to assist him and accordingly lent him six hundred guilders； advising him at the same time to demand a better price for his pictures。 Wouwerman did so； and in the meantime paid his debts。 Matters brightened with him at once。 Everybody appreciated the great artist who painted such costly pictures。 He grew rich。 The six hundred guilders were returned； and in gratitude Wouwerman sent also a work which he had painted； representing his benefactor as Saint Hubert kneeling before his horsethe very picture； Ludwig； of which we were speaking last night。〃
〃So！ so！〃 exclaimed Ludwig； with deep interest。 〃I must take another look at the engraving as soon as we get home。〃
At that same hour； while Ben was skating with his companions beside the Holland dike； Robby and Jenny stood in their pretty English schoolhouse； ready to join in the duties of their reading class。
〃Commence！ Master Robert Dobbs；〃 said the teacher； 〃page 242。 Now； sir； mind every stop。〃
And Robby； in a quick childish voice； roared forth at schoolroom pitch； 〃Lesson 62。 The Hero of Haarlem。 Many years ago； there lived in Haarlem； one of the principal cities of Holland； a sunny…haired boy of gentle disposition。 His father was a sluicer； that is； a man whose business it was to open and close the sluices； or large oaken gates； that are placed at regular distances across the entrances of the canals； to regulate the amount of water that shall flow into them。
〃The sluicer raises the gates more or less according to the quantity of water required； and closes them carefully at night； in order to avoid all possible danger of an oversupply running into the canal； or the water would soon overflow it and inundate the surrounding country。 As a great portion of Holland is lower than the level of the sea； the waters are kept from flooding the land only by means of strong dikes； or barriers； and by means of these sluices； which are often strained to the utmost by the pressure of the rising tides。 Even the little children in Holland know that constant watchfulness is required to keep the rivers and ocean from overwhelming the country； and that a moment's neglect of the sluicer's duty may bring ruin and death to all。〃
〃Very good；〃 said the teacher。 〃Now； Susan。〃
〃One lovely autumn afternoon； when the boy was about eight years old； he obtained his parents' consent to carry some cakes to a blind man who lived out in the country； on the other side of the dike。 The little fellow started on his errand with a light heart； and having spent an hour with his grateful old friend； he bade him farewell and started on his homeward walk。
〃Trudging stoutly along the canal； he noticed how the autumn rains had swollen the waters。 Even while humming his careless； childish song； he thought of his father's brave old gates and felt glad of their strength； for； thought he； 'If THEY gave way； where would Father and Mother be？ These pretty fields would all be covered with the angry watersFather always calls them the ANGRY waters。 I suppose he thinks they are mad at him for keeping them out so long。' And with these thoughts just flitting across his brain； the little fellow stooped to pick the pretty flowers that grew along his way。 Sometimes he stopped to throw some feathery seed ball in the air and watch it as it floated away； sometimes he listened to the stealthy rustling of a rabbit； speeding through the grass； but oftener he smiled as he recalled the happy light he had seen arise on the weary； listening face of his blind old friend。〃
〃Now； Henry；〃 said the teacher； nodding to the next little reader。
〃Suddenly the boy looked around him in dismay。 He had not noticed that the sun was setting。 Now he saw that his long shadow on the grass had vanished。 It was growing dark； he was still some distance from home； and in a lonely ravine； where even the blue flowers had turned to gray。 He quickened his footsteps and； with a beating heart recalled many a nursery tale of children belated in dreary forests。 Just as he was bracing himself for a run； he was startl