Chapter II
By Dykes And Windmills
Holland for automobilists is a land of one hill and miles and miles of brick-paved roads, so well laid with tiny bricks, and so straight and so level that it is almost an automobilist's paradise.
We had come from Belgium to Holland, from Antwerp to Breda, a little short of fifty kilometres, to make a round of Dutch towns by automobile, as we had done in the old days by the humble bicycle.
Custom-house regulations are not onerous in Holland. The law says you must pay five per cent. duty on entering the country, or at the discretion of the authorities, bona-fide tourists will be given a temporary permit to "circulate" free. There are no speed limits in Holland, but you must not drive to the common danger. The first we were glad to know, the second we did not propose to do.
As we passed the frontier the douaniers returned to their fishing opposite the little cabaret where we had some needed refreshment. It is curious what satisfaction middle-class officialdom in Continental Europe gets out of fishing. It is their one passion, apparently, if their work lies near a well-stocked stream. The chef de bureau goes fishing, the commissionnaire goes fishing, and everybody goes fishing. A peaceful and innocent exercise for those who like it, but one which is inexplicable to an outsider.
Soon we are stopped at a toll-gate. The toll-gate keeper still exists in Holland, chiefly on private bridges. He loses a good deal of his monetary return, however, as he has a lazy habit of putting out a great wooden sabot to collect the fees, he, meanwhile, fishing or dozing some distance away.
If you are a bad shot your coin sometimes goes overboard, or being an automobilist, and therefore down on all impositions, you simply do not put any more coins in the sabots and think to depend on your speed to take you out of any brewing trouble. This old relic of the middle ages is sure to decrease in Holland with the progress of the automobile.