The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1882-06-17
A Queer Village.

All the boys and girls who have
studied geography know what singu-
lar country Holland is; that it is as fiat
as dinner-plate, and away down below
the level of the sea, with dykes or en-
bankments built up all around, to keep
the water from coming ina green, lev
ell land, cut up by canals, so that you
can travel about in that way as naturally
as we do on roads.
The Hollanders are the neatest peo-
pie in the world; and that brings me to
what l set out to tell you about There
is little town, or village, in that coun-
try, few miles from Amsterdam, called
Brock, pronounced brook, Brock in
Water-land.
1t has been famous, nobody can tell
how long, for its cleanliness; and not
only that, but for the fanciful style of
the houses and yards and gardens and
streets. The people, though only
peasants, are all rich, and all feel a
pride in their town; it seems to be the
their houses freshly painted, their gar
dens in perfect order, and their yards
and streets as clean as parlor.
No carts are allowed in the streets
and no cattle. Though. the raising of
stock and making butter and cheese is
their occupation, stranger would
never imagine that there were any cat
tie in the region, unless he went to the
beautiful green meadows back of the
houses, or the stables out there where
the cows are kept in stalls scrubbed and
washed like a kitchen.
The streets are too fine and nice for
the feet of animals to step on; all paved
with polished stones, intermingled with
bricks of different colors, and kept SO
serupulously clean that lady could
walk anywhere in white satin slippers.
Every house has little yard in front,
but no shrubs, or vines, or flowers in it,
or even tuft of grass. They are all
carefully paved with colored stones in
the figures of animals, or birds, OIL trees,
or tulips, or something in designs which
make one think of some of the mon
strosities one sometimes sees in hearth
rugs, such as scarlet bears, green
horses, blue trees and the like.
The houses are painted in the bright
est colors, just as the owner fancies; in
vermilion, pea-green, pink, purple,
orange, or anything else that is gay and
gorgeous and queer; and the roofs are
covered with tiles vanished till they
shine like new silver.
Every day the stones in the yard are
washed and polished, and slippers are
placed at the door so that any one 60
ing in, stranger or dweller there, must
take off his boots or shoes before setting
foot in the house. Inside, everything
is as clean as constant scrubbing and
rinsing and painting and vanishing
and rubbing and polishing can make it.
The floors, of black and yellow marble
inlaid, are kept slippery as glass from
so much friction; all the woodwork
glistens, and everything that is made of
metal is dazzling as FURNISHED brass.
There is nothing in all the world like it.
There are large gardens between the
houses, where there are trinity laid-out
beds of such choice flowers as tulips
and hyacinths and the rarest of bulbs;
and all about are set up images as gro
tesque as heather idols; and these are
in keeping with the strangeness of ev-
erything else.
The people have but little to do with
the rest of the world, but to stay al
home and paint and varnish and scrub
and keep clean. But they treat every.
body well who goes there, and certainly
if there is one queer village that is bet
ter worth visiting than any other, il
must be Brock. - Youths Companion.