The record-union., 1897-11-11
IDYLLIC BELGIAN VILLAGE.
QUAINT LITTLE TOWN ON THE
BORDERS OF THE MEUSE.
Hastiere and It's People-A Cosmo-
po1itan Lot Who Meet in the
Great Dining Room Because
There Is No Parlor, Though
There Is a Stable and q Well
Stocked Soap Case.


There Is a Stable and a Well
Stocked Soap Case.
1t is encouraging to find one place
In Europe that can be arrived at with
out The interminable string of cabs and
cabbies, porters and hotel runners.
There are none of these things in Has
tiere. The stranger who leaves the
train here Immediately has the free
dom of the town and can climb the
mountains or wade into the river with
out let or hindrance. And If he is IN
need of a hotel he is at liberty to go
and hunt one.
The impossibility of going thirsty in
Hastiere is apparent from the outset.
In front of the station is a big green
field, and across the road a small stone
building with iron chairs in front. That
is a cafe. Where the short road turns
sharply to the right is another stone
building; that is another cafe. Fifty
feet down the road, another cafe; then
q brewery; then a livery stable. But
these little liquor shops do not seem
10 be corrupting the public morals. Not
only is there no one in them, but there
Is no one in sight to go into them. Evi-
IDENTIFY, keeping a cafe in Hastiere re-
Quires more patience than capital.
The mountain rises on the left, al
most from the side of the road. These
buildings rub their backs against it,
And the road, in the course of a. few
hundred yards, reaches a little open
square, where it divides the honors with
three other roads, one of which crosses
the railway and leads to and over the
bridge to Hastiere-Levaux. The road
to the left is the one that attracts at
tention, for it runs right up into the
mountain-not over it, but into it, by a
deep gorge that divides the mountain
into two mountains. The gorge runs
in at right angles with the river and
is just wide enough for the road and
the row of houses on each side of it,
And here stands our friend, the 'Ho-
tel Bellevue" backing up against one
of the mountains, it's front on the little
square. But somehow it does not look
quite as attractive in reality as it looks
in its portrait in the railway book. The
hot afternoon sun is baking it's gray
stone walls, for the trees are all be-
hind il on the mountain, and there is
no shade in front. There is a bicycle
rack at the side, and some tables and
chairs Under a canvas awning, and no
body sitting in the chairs 1t looks
like place kept for passing bicyclers
who have all passed.
Perhaps it is by comparison that the
Hotel Bellevue suffers most. for lust
across the road is one of the shadiest
spots imaginable, big old stone build
ing, with sign on the front wall, "Ho-
tel d'Hastiere, Tenu par E. Brouet."
This building also backs up against it's
own mountain; but it has a yard in
front shut in by an iron fence mount
ed on a stone wall-a yard so full of
trees and bushes that it is dark. but
not dark enough to con~eal the iron
chairs and tables in cozy hooks. And
there is the sound of falling water.
made by a mountain stream dashing
over little precipice at one side, that
conceals itself for a dozen yards in a
tunnel, and reappears at the other end
of the yard
THE REAL EUROPE DISCOVERED.
This looks like Europe at last. Not
the Europe of the guidebook and the
round-trip ticket, but the Europe that
may be found when one goes far
enough for it. the Europe that was be-
fore Americans and Englishmen turned
everything upside down by their sum-
mer invasions. AS we walked into the
shady yard there stared at us a cur
ious inscription cut in the big stone
over the front door: Two swords cross
ed, and between them "W. H, 1757";
but it did not need the inscription to
show that the old building was well
along in its second century
No wonder the few occupants of the
chairs and tables stared at us as we
walked in and sat down in the shade.
We had come very leisurely from the
station, and there was nothing to show
that we had arrived by train. We had
no bicycles, no baggage, no great flu
ency In talking to the portly waiter
VINO stepped up to take an order And
We were in no hurry to investigate.
Hastlere Is not a rapid place; and the
vacant rooms, If any, would not be
snapped up till the bad cigar was re-
duced to ashes. 1t was almost chilly
IN that deep shade, though the sun was
scorchlng. The other occupants of the
yard were mostly ladies, with their
sewing implements on the tables. Their
belgian French ran much too rapidIy
for us to understand what they said.
but We knew without hearing that they
were discussing whether les Anglaises,,
had dropped from the clouds or wera
doing Belgium on foot. A stranger IN
bicycle is common enough; but four
baggageless strangers on foot are sim
ply revolutionary.
Rooms? There We're rooms to be
had by the acre in this large house
with its few guests Doors were
thrown open by the half score. up one
flight, up two flights. But a Belgian
inn in the mountains was not to be
taken at enc gulp; short trial trip
would do for a beginning, and engaging
rooms for single night was not ac-
complished without many difficulties.
the maids French. having too much
Of Belgian flavor to accord well with
the purer French of New York. But
they We're engaged eventually, good.
large rooms, with comfortable modern