In Rotterdam, the ancient windmills, with huge spreading arms, stand in the midst of modern shops, and the contrast is strange.
Uncle Gilbert directed the party to the Delftshaven church, explaining that in this ancient building the Pilgrim Fathers worshiped before they set sail for the New World.

Then the sight-seers took train for The Hague, ten miles away.

They visited the House of the Woods, where the Peace Congresses are held, observed Queen Wilhelmina's residence from without, looked at some of the famous paintings in the art gallery, then shuddered over the instruments of torture on exhibition in the "Torture Chamber" found in the old prison.

There were some gruesome articles here.
"All in the name of religion," remarked the minister, shaking his head.
"It seems to me that in those days men taxed their ingenuity to find new and more terrible means of inflicting pain.

And men suffered in those days because of religious belief." Someone had expressed himself on the subject in these lines, which they read from a card: "By my soul's hope of rest, I'd rather have been born, ere man was blessed With the pure dawn of revelation's light; Yea; rather plunge me back into pagan night And take my chances with Socrates for bliss, Than be a Christian of a faith like this." Out from the depressing gloom of the prison, they took the electric car to Scheveningen, the famous sea-side resort.