Its streets and houses are a never-ending pleasure.

Something gladdens the eye at every turn--a blue and yellow shutter, a red and black shutter, a turret, a daring gable, a knot of country people, a fat Zeeland baby, a milk-can rivalling the sun, an old woman's lace cap, a young woman's merry mouth.

Only in two respects is the town unsatisfactory, and both are connected with its streets.

The liberty given to each householder to erect an iron fence across the pavement at each limit of his property makes it necessary to walk in the road, and the _pave_ of the road is so rough as to cause no slight suffering to any one in thin boots.

M.Havard has an amusing passage on this topic, in which he says that the ancient fifteenth-century punishment for marital infidelity, a sin forbidden by the municipal laws no less than by Heaven, was the supply by the offending man of a certain number of paving stones.