"Ahem! this way, young gentlemen!"
They were walking through the streets of the city, not on a curbed sidewalk, for such a thing is rarely to be found in Holland, but on the brick pavement that lay on the borders of the cobblestone carriage-way without breaking its level expanse.
Haarlem, like Amsterdam, was gayer than usual, in honor of St. Nicholas.
A strange figure was approaching them. It was a small man dressed in black, with a short cloak; he wore a wig and a cocked hat from which a long crape streamer was flying.
"Who comes here?" cried Ben; "what a queer-looking object."
"That's the aanspreeker," said Lambert; "some one is dead."
"Is that the way men dress in mourning in this country?"
"Oh no. The aanspreeker attends funerals, and it is his business, when any one dies, to notify all the friends and relatives."
"What a strange custom."
"Well," said Lambert "we needn't feel very badly about this particular death, for I see another man has lately been born to the world to fill up the vacant place."