“I like these boat roads best,” said Allan, “they are so novel.”
“Where are we going, mamma?” asked Nettie, “and how far?”
“To the Vyverberg House, my dear. I do not know the distance.”
“Is it a mile?” asked Eric, of the boatman.
He shook his head, saying, “Nein.”
But you are not to think that he meant nine miles, for “nein” is German for “no.”
The Vyverberg House was at the north end of Gravenhaag; so our friends had a fine view of the town, and learned much of its history from the sober old boatman, who, very fortunately for them, spoke English well.
He pointed out the moat, which surrounded the city and formed its principal defense, and the drawbridges which crossed the moat.
“How different from Hamburg!” said Eric. “There, a strong wall fortified the town, and most of its streets are now built upon its old walls of fortification.”
“The canals were similar to these,” said his mother. “You did not notice those particularly, because you always rode in Mr. Nichols’s carriage.”