One thing is clear, you may think that the inhabitants need never be
thirsty. But no, Odd-land is true to itself still. With the sea pushing
to get in, and the lakes struggling to get out, and the overflowing
canals, rivers, and ditches, in many districts there is no water that is
fit to swallow.
Our poor Hollanders must go dry, or send far inland for that precious
fluid, older than Adam, yet young as the morning dew.
Sometimes, indeed, the inhabitants can swallow a shower, when they are
provided with any means of catching it; but generally they are like the
sailors told of in a famous poem, who saw
"Water, water, every-where,
Nor any drop to drink!"
Great flapping windmills all over the country make it look as if flocks
of huge sea birds were just settling upon it. Every-where one sees the
funniest trees, bobbed into all sorts of odd shapes, with their trunks
painted a dazzling' white, yellow, or red.
Horses are often yoked three abreast. Men, women, and children, go
clattering about in wooden shoes with loose heels.
Husbands and wives lovingly harness themselves side by side on the bank
of the canal and drag their produce to market.
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