IT is a delightful stroll on a sunny summer morning from the Hague to the Huis ten Bosch, the little "house in the wood," built for Princess Amalia, widow of Stadtholter Frederick Henry, under whom Holland escaped finally from the bondage of her foes and entered into the promised land of Liberty. Leaving the quiet streets, the tree-bordered canals, with their creeping barges, you pass through a pleasant park, where the soft-eyed deer press round you, hurt and indignant if you have brought nothing in your pocket-not even a piece of sugar-to offer them. It is not that they are grasping-it is the want of attention that wounds them.
"I thought he was a gentleman," they seem to be saying to one another, if you glance back, "he looked like a gentleman."
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