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Updated: May 11, 2025
When we returned to the boats after breakfasting at a café in the woods, it was to hear that a motor-launch, patriotically bearing the name of "Wilhelmina," had gone by, faster than the legal limit, as if in haste to reach Meppel.
The meadow-ringed world of water and sky was all charm and grace and quaintness again, at Meppel and beyond, and I was in a mood to appreciate its beauty there, for we had a glimpse of "Wilhelmina" in harbor, and apparently deserted.
"Wilhelmina" was well ahead; and in any case we did not mean to stop the night at Meppel. If we saw Sir Alec's launch there, we could easily slip past, all passengers in the cabin and Hendrik at the helm; whereas, if we did not see her, she would not be able to see us. We were in the province of Drenthe now, and it looked as little Dutch as might be.
It was not until we were far on our eight hours' journey to Meppel, that we slipped once more into a characteristic region of peace and plenty; marching lines of dark trees, with foregrounds of pink and azure flowers, or golden grain; mossy, thatched roofs, and red tiles crusted with golden lichen.
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