I reached Amsterdam late in the afternoon; and, after much wandering in and out among the canals, I found a room in a garret overhanging the sluggish waterway. The place was clean, as we have heard all places are in Holland, and there was a coffee-house close at hand, where eggs, milk, cheeses, and dairy products of all kinds were served at small cost and in cleanly surroundings.
I visited parks, museums, and the laborers’ quarters in Amsterdam, and every evening spent a long time searching for my canal-side garret, because it looked so much like other canal-side garrets.
CHAPTER IV
NOT WELCOME IN THE FATHERLAND
One afternoon, while in my favorite coffee-house, I heard some one say that a cargo-boat was to leave for a town in Germany on the Rhine, and that passengers could go along for a song. It was to leave at four. I thrust a lunch into a pocket, and hurried down to the boat. She was a big canal-boat, as black as a coal-barge, but not so clean. Her uncovered deck was piled high with boxes, barrels, and crates, holding everything from beer mugs to noisy chickens. I scrambled over the cargo, and found a seat on a barrel of oil.
I left the cargo-boat at the German town of Arnheim, and walked along the Rhine, stopping at the towns along the way. Partly on foot and partly by steamer, I made my way to the city of Mainz. From there I turned eastward and tramped along the highway to Frankfurt.
It was late at night when I reached Frankfurt. The highway ended among the great buildings of the business blocks. After hunting for some time I found, on a dingy side street, a building on which there was a sign offering lodging at one mark. Truly it was a high price to pay for a bed; but the hour was late, the night stormy, and I was tired. I entered the drinking-room. The bartender was busy quieting the shouts of “Glas Bier” that rose above the rest of the noise. As soon as I could get his attention, I told him that I wanted lodging.
“Beds?” cried the Kellner, too busy with his glasses to look up at me. “To be sure—we have always plenty of beds. One mark.”
But mein Herr, the proprietor, was staring at me from the back of the hall. Slowly he shuffled forward, cocked his head on one side, and studied me closely from out his bleary eyes.
“What does he want?” he demanded, turning to the bartender.
I told him that I wanted a night’s lodging.