The Germans have a fondness for faery-tales, or Märchen as they call them, that is strangely at odds with their orderly dispositions. Ranged in parallel with their tidy Christian world is the Märchenwelt , a pagan realm of romance, wonders, and magical beings. Why they believe in the Märchenwelt has ever been a mystery to me; but I am closer to understanding it today than I was yesterday. For yesterday we reached Nijmegen. We went direct to the bank of the Rhine and I began looking for a canal-boat bound in the direction of Rotterdam and the Hague. Hans and Joachim meanwhile canvassed travelers debarking from boats lately come from upstream. I had no sooner settled myself in a comfortable cabin on a Hague-bound canal-ship when Joachim found me; and he had in tow a pair of characters straight out of the Märchenwelt .They were not gnomes, dwarves, or witches, but Princesses: one full-grown (I believe she is not yet thirty) and one pint-sized (she has told me three different times that she is five years old). True to form, the little one carries a doll that she insists is also a princess.