Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Roundabout Papersare English. As we are close to the sea, and in themidst of endless canals, we have no fish. We are remindedof dear England by the noble prices which wepay for wines. I confess I lost my temper yesterday atRotterdam, where I had to pay a florin for a bottle ofale (the water not being drinkable, and country orBavarian beer not being genteel enough for the hotel);—Iconfess, I say, that my fine temper was ruffled,when the bottle of pale ale turned out to be a pintbottle; and I meekly told the waiter that I had boughtbeer at Jerusalem at a less price. But then Rotterdamis eighteen hours from London, and the steamer withthe passengers and beer comes up to the hotel windows;whilst to Jerusalem they have to carry the aleon camels’ backs from Beyrout or Jaffa, and throughhordes of marauding Arabs, who evidently don’t carefor pale ale, though I am told it is not forbidden in theKoran. Mine would have been very good, but I chokedwith rage whilst drinking it. A florin for a bottle, andthat bottle having the words “imperial pint,” in boldrelief, on the surface! It was too much. I intended notto say anything about it; but I MUST speak. A florin abottle, and that bottle a pint! Oh, for shame! for shame!I can’t cork down my indignation; I froth up with fury;I am pale with wrath, and bitter with scorn.As we drove through the old city at night, how itswarmed and hummed with life! What a special clatter,crowd, and outcry there was in the Jewish quarter,where myriads of young ones were trotting aboutthe fishy street! Why don’t they have lamps? We passedby canals seeming so full that a pailful of water morewould overflow the place. The laquais-de-place callsout the names of the buildings: the town-hall, thecathedral, the arsenal, the synagogue, the statue ofErasmus. Get along! WE know the statue of Erasmuswell enough. We pass over drawbridges by canals wherethousands of barges are at roost. At roost—at rest!Shall WE have rest in those bedrooms, those ancientlofty bedrooms, in that inn where we have to pay aflorin for a pint of pa—psha! at the “New Bath Hotel”on the Boompjes? If this dreary edifice is the “NewBath,” what must the Old Bath be like? As I feared to182