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Updated: June 28, 2025
Brunings died years ago; they've a monument to his memory in the cathedral of Haarlem. I have seen his portrait, and I tell you, Ben, he was right noble-looking. No wonder the castle looks so stiff and proud. It is something to have given shelter to such a man!" "Yes, indeed," said Ben. "I wonder, Van Mounen, whether you or I will ever give any old building a right to feel so proud. Heigh-ho!
But other facts and historical events stay behind that's some consolation." "There we differ," returned Van Mounen. "I'm great on names and figures, but history, take it altogether, seems to me to be the most hopeless kind of jumble." Meantime Carl and Ludwig were having a discussion concerning some square wooden monuments they had observed in the interior of the church.
In the witty but earnest author whose words are welcomed to this day in thousands of Holland homes, few could recognize the haughty, flippant Rychie who scoffed at little Gretel. Lambert van Mounen and Ludwig van Holp are good Christian men and, what is more easily to be seen at a glance, thriving citizens.
As his party skimmed lightly along he told Van Mounen of a burial riot which in 1696 had occurred in that very city, where the women and children turned out, as well as the men, and formed mock funeral processions through the town, to show the burgomasters that certain new regulations, with regard to burying the dead would not be acceded to how at last they grew so unmanageable and threatened so much damage to the city that the burgomasters were glad to recall the offensive law.
A few more long strokes would take them to The Hague, when Van Mounen proposed that they should vary their course by walking into the city through the Bosch. "Agreed!" cried one and all and their skates were off in a twinkling. The Bosch is a grand park or wood, nearly two miles long, containing the celebrated House in the Wood Huis in't Bosch sometimes used as a royal residence.
Van Mounen turned mysteriously to Ben. "My goodness! yes!" answered Ben in a great fright. "Then, depend upon it, he's been taken with one in the museum!" The boys caught his meaning. Every skate was off in a twinkling. Peter had the presence of mind to scoop up a capful of water from the hole, and off they scampered to the rescue. Alas!
One thing is plain, however, the Duke of Alva was about the worst specimen of a man that ever lived." "That gives only a faint idea of him," said Ben, "but I hate to think of such a wretch. What if he HAD brains and military skill, and all that sort of thing! Give me such men as Van der Werf, and What now?" "Why," said Van Mounen, who was looking up and down the street in a bewildered way.
Peter had, for the present, exhausted his stock of Haarlem anecdotes, and now, having nothing to do but skate, he and his three companions were hastening to catch up with Lambert and Ben. "That English lad is fleet enough," said Peter. "If he were a born Hollander, he could do no better. Generally these John Bulls make but a sorry figure on skates. Halloo! Here you are, Van Mounen.
A heavy machine armed with iron spikes for breaking the ice as it is dragged along. "Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted one and all. "Hurrah! Hurrah!" This trick of cheering was an importation among our party. Lambert van Mounen had brought it from England.
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