So, inch by inch, and foot by foot, the bricks rose up toward the blue sky and nearer the sun, until, high aloft, the church tower stood, and the clouds came and kissed it. The sunrise made it rosy, and the sunset rays gilded it.
Again, in high places of the earth, where winds blow, the clay of the river bed, now turned into brick, held honored place in the tower which dominated the Belgian landscape. At night, the [[187]]top seemed not far from the stars, and on the apex, or summit of some of the loftiest, men placed the golden dragon, as the symbol of power. Or, they set the weather vane to tell whence the wind was blowing and what they might expect from the wind fairies on the morrow.
Or, in honor of God, they built churches that had towers and spires—which all the world comes to Belgium to see, because they are so beautiful. On the top of many, they set the shining cross, symbol of the Heavenly Father’s love, and of the Unselfish One, who pleased not himself, but died to make men holy.
The towers became the home of the bells, the throne room of sweet music, and the abode of the carillons. And so it has come to pass, that the men of Belgium have listened to the call of the clay, that fell down from the mountain heights and lay for ages neglected in the river beds. And, hearing the call, they lifted it up again to the honor of God and the delight of men. “Up and down and up again,” is the story of what makes the belfry of Bruges, the “lady spire” of Antwerp Cathedral, and the glorious towers of Mechlin, of Ghent, of Mons, of Oudenarde, of Tournai, and hosts of Belgian towers the delight and joy of all the world. [[188]]
XX
THE GOLDEN DRAGON OF THE BORINGUE
In one part of Belgium, they had bored into the earth so often, and so deep, to get the coal, that this region is called the Boringue. The city of Mons is the center of the coal mining region, and here they still celebrate the victory of a brave knight over a mighty dragon.
This dragon was quite an unusual monster, for his skin was all of shining gold, with scales, like plate armor. He was as big as a battering ram, and his strength was like that of a catapult, which could hurl big stones into a city of the enemy’s camp. More wonderful yet, this dragon of the Boringue had a flashing jewel in his forehead, that was worth all the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, in the whole world. It shone like a lamp, in the darkest nights, and guided his path for him, as he moved down from the hills to devour maidens.
This monster was a conglomeration of all things terrible. He had every one of the powers, which any and all beasts, birds, fishes, or reptiles [[189]]possessed; whether on the earth, in the air, or under the waters. He had a roar like a lion, the wings of an eagle, the claws of a condor, and the power to glide like a snake or crawl like an alligator. He could fly like a falcon, burrow like a rat, swim like a shark, crush with his coils like an anaconda, and had a keen scent, like a hound. He had eyes like a tiger, teeth like a wolf, and tusks sharper than a boar’s, the nose horns of a rhinoceros, the antlers of a stag, the tossing horns of a bull, the double moustaches of a catfish, and the shell of a tortoise. He could breathe fire out of his nostrils and burn up the grass. With a nail in his tail, he could scratch a furrow like a plow. When he thrashed around, in anger, he could deliver a blow like a battering ram. At the tips of his wings were hooks, as hard as steel. In short, he was like an encyclopædia of everything that was strong, vicious and dreadful. It seemed as if all the might and force of the old creatures, that had lived and died in the ancient forests, before the ocean rolled in, and before the ages of coal, had risen to resurrection in him to make a monster combining all the powers of every living creature.