THE VICE-PRINCIPAL.

A crowd of people preceded the procession, as it came out of the Rue de Laeken into the Boulevard d’Anvers.  At the head of it marched the military band, and the cortege was flanked by soldiers of the Belgian army, indicating that the government felt an interest in the display.  The students were on the tiptoe of excitement at the novel spectacle; and Paul asked his friend, the doctor, a great many questions which he could not answer.  The composition and order of the procession were very nearly as follows:-

A man bearing a cross on a pole.  Banner.  Little girls dressed in white, with flowers in their hands.  Little boys.  Banner.  Image of the Virgin borne by four men.  A lamb, very white and clean, led by a string, and decorated with red ribbons, with boys on each side, carrying various emblems.  Young ladies in white.  Another image of the Virgin.  About twenty priests, in white muslin robes, and in satin robes trimmed with gold.  Two boys with censers.  Silken canopy, borne by four men, under which walked two ecclesiastics, in full costume one bearing the Host.

The canopy was surrounded by men carrying lanterns with silver framework, and of peculiar construction.  The censers, as they were swung backward and forward by the bearers, emitted a dense smoke, which rose far above the procession, and marked its progress.

As the cortege approached the spot where the boys stood, the band ceased playing, and the priests began to chant the mass to the accompaniment of a single base horn.  The procession moved very slowly, and the rich voices of the priests, mingling with the heavy notes of the horn, produced an effect solemn and impressive even on the minds of those whose religious education did not prepare them to appreciate such a display.

As the host approached, hundreds of the crowd in the street knelt reverently upon the pavement, and bowed their heads before the sacred emblems.  Women and children strewed the path of the procession with flowers, green branches, or, in the absence of these, with handfuls of colored paper cut into minute pieces.  Indeed, the street, in places, was literally covered with these votive offerings of the people, who had no other means of testifying their reverence for the ceremonial.

The line filed into the Rue Longue Neuve, which was extensively decorated with flags, streamers, and other national and religious emblems.  In many windows burned a line of candles, in some cases before a crucifix.  In this street the procession halted, and several of the priests moved up an arch forming the entrance to one of the better residences.  In this recess an altar had been erected, and was covered with all the emblems of the Catholic faith.  The priests knelt before it, and chanted a portion of the service, and then returned to the procession, which continued its march up the street; the flowers and bits of colored paper filling the air before it, and the people still reverently bowing down to the host.  The solemn and impressive chanting of the priests kindled the pious enthusiasm of the multitude, and as the line passed the cafes and estaminets, or smoking houses, the pipe, the drink, and the gay jest were abandoned, to pay homage to the faith of the nation.

The faces of the little children and the white-robed maidens in the procession presented an aspect of religious enthusiasm, solemn but not sad, which young people seldom wear.  Everybody seemed to be carried away by the excitement of the scene; all hats were removed, and the utmost respect was paid to the representatives and to the emblems of the church in the line.

As Paul and his friend followed the spectacle up the street, they saw a Beguine nun kneeling at the altar in the arch, wringing her hands in an ecstasy of devotion, while several women were regarding her with an admiring reverence, which seemed to indicate that they envied her the enjoyment of the heavenly raptures which thrilled her.

“It is very solemn-isn’t it?” said Paul, when they had passed out of hearing of the procession.

“It is really moving, even while you have no sympathy with the church which makes these displays.”

“I think I was never more moved in my life than I was by the chanting of those priests.  But what is the occasion of all this?”

“I don’t know; except that this is some saint’s day-St. James, I believe; but there is something of this kind in Brussels nearly every Sunday; and I have seen several minor displays in the streets in the evening.”

“I am surprised to see how much respect the people pay to their religion.  If they have these displays often, I should think they would become stale.”

“It appears they do not.  I have a great deal more consideration and respect for these exhibitions in Belgium than in some other parts of Europe, for the reason that all religions enjoy the utmost toleration here.  The people are almost exclusively Catholic, and yet they permit Protestants and Jews entire freedom in the exercise of their religion, and pay them their fair share of the government money.”

At two o’clock dinner was ready at the Hotel Royal; and it need not be added that the boys also were ready.  Half an hour later the whole party had been loaded into stage-coaches, which, in an hour and a half, set them down on the battle-field of Waterloo.  For two hours they wandered about the field, or rather up and down the two principal roads which pass through it.  On the highest ground of the field, where there is a mound two hundred feet high, surmounted by the Belgic Lion, Mr. Mapps gave a brief account of the great battle, pointing out the spots of the greatest interest, including the road by which Blucher arrived.  The subject is too vast for these pages; but it will be alluded to in the summary of French history in a subsequent volume.

There are several monuments, and columns, and obelisks on the battle-field, which mark the fall of distinguished men or their burial-places.  Beneath the great mound are buried thousands of all the armies represented in this historical conflict, which settled, for a time, the fate of Europe.  The field is the harvest-ground of a multitude of beggars, relic-hunters, and guides, who bore visitors almost to death with old buttons, musty rags, flattened bullets, bones, and other articles, which they produce as keepsakes of the battle.  The stock of these things probably failed long ago, and the traveller may well be suspicious of the genuineness of anything which may be offered to him by these leeches.

At six the stages conveyed the tourists to the Groenendael Station, on the railway to Namur, where they arrived after a ride of an hour, express time.  This place is the “Belgian Sheffield,” being largely engaged in the manufacturing of arms, cutlery, and hardware.  Its vicinity contains rich mines of iron, coal, and marble.  Many battles and sieges have occurred in this place; and Don John of Austria, sent by Philip II. to subdue the country, was buried here.  The city contains a population of twenty-six thousand, and is beautifully located at the junction of the Meuse and Sambre Rivers.  The train stopped here but an hour; and the students roamed through some of the principal streets, which, however, were too much like those of places they had visited before to excite any especial interest.

Two hours later, they arrived at Liege, which was to be the eastern limit of the excursion.  As before, Mr. Fluxion had preceded them, and engaged accommodations at the hotels.  The students were very tired, and not disposed to explore the city of the bishops that night.  Before breakfast on the following morning, Mr. Mapps gave them the history and other interesting particulars relating to the city, when they had assembled in the old citadel of St. Walburg, which overlooks the town.

“Liege, whose Flemish name is Luik, contains one hundred and nine thousand inhabitants, who are principally concerned in the various manufactures of iron, and especially in the making of cannon and arms,” said the professor.  “I observed to you before, that this part of the country bears some resemblance to New England.  As you have an opportunity to observe for yourselves, the scenery is very fine, but rather of the pleasant and quiet description.

“The province of Liege, of which this city is the capital, was formerly governed by a line of bishops; and those of you who have read Scott’s Quentin Durward will remember William de la Marck, the Wild Boar of Ardennes, whose adventures are located in this vicinity.  In the tenth century, the bishops of Liege were made sovereigns by the German emperor, and received the name of Prince-Bishops.  But the burghers of Liege, like those of Ghent, had a will and a way of their own, and frequently rebelled against the bishops, in support of their rights; and Charles the Bold took the rulers under his protection.  Still they persisted in revolting, and Charles destroyed the city, as a punishment, in 1468.  Fifteen years later, William de la Marck murdered the prince-bishop, in order to obtain the mitre-crown for his son.  This was the beginning of the insurrection, in which, as I have related to you before, Charles the Bold compelled the king of France to march against the rebels.

“The place was subsequently captured by the French; the bishops were expelled at the commencement of the French Revolution, but were restored by the Austrians two years later.  In 1794 it was annexed to France; but after the battle of Waterloo it was incorporated into the new kingdom of the Netherlands.  In 1830 the old spirit of the burghers of Liege revived, and they were among the foremost promoters of the Belgian Revolution.”

The students descended from the heights, whose fortresses command the city, took an outside view of the Hotel de Ville, several churches, and other public buildings, and breakfasted at nine.  Though they had by no means exhausted the city, the time would not permit a further examination.  The train was ready for them; and their next stop was at Louvain, which, like Ghent and Bruges, had dwindled down from a population of two hundred thousand to thirty-three thousand.  It contains a magnificent town hall, decorated in the most elaborate style.

From Louvain the party hurried on to Mechlin, or Malines, a picturesque old city, still famous for its fine lace.  It is about the size of Louvain, and, like that, presents a deserted appearance, being only the shadow of its former greatness.  Its principal object of interest to the tourist is the Cathedral of St. Romuald, a structure of the fifteenth century, and, like the great churches at Cologne and Antwerp, still unfinished.  It was built with money obtained by the sale of the pope’s indulgences, which, happily, “gave out” at last.  Its spire, which was to have been six hundred and forty feet high, remains incomplete, at little more than half this height, which, however, is only eighteen feet less than the cross on St. Paul’s, in London.  The church is an immense structure, said to cover nearly two acres of ground.  It is the cathedral of the Belgian archbishop, or primate.

“There, Paul, we have finished Belgium,” said Dr. Winstock, as the train started for Antwerp.

“I am glad of it; for I am tired of sight-seeing.  It seems to me now that I have no desire to see another Cathedral, Hotel de Ville, or Grande Place,” replied Paul, languidly, as he settled himself back in his seat.

“A new country will wake you up,” laughed the doctor.  “I suppose we shall be in Rotterdam to-morrow.”

“I hope so, though I don’t know but I should like blue water better than being shut up in these rivers and canals.”

“You will get blue water enough before the season is ended.”

In half an hour from Malines, the train reached Antwerp.  Mr. Fluxion had arrived before; and there were two tugs at the Quai Vandyck, which had been employed to tow the vessels down the river.  They conveyed the students on board, and the orders for sailing were given immediately.

Mr. Hamblin, who had not yet recovered from his disappointment, hastened to the cabin.  He commenced a diligent search for papers written by the captain, in order to compare their penmanship with that of the forged note.  As Mr. Stoute had been compelled to acknowledge, there was a general resemblance between the handwriting of Paul and that of the unknown scribbler of the note.  Though a minute comparison failed to establish any closer connection between them, the professor wanted to make out his point; and it was not difficult for him to find a particular similarity.

Paul was busy on deck, getting the Josephine under weigh, and Mr. Hamblin had the cabin to himself for his investigation.  The stamp on the paper of the fictitious note had already excited his attention, and he took the liberty to enter Paul’s state-room, in search of some like it.  He opened the upper drawer of the bureau, which formed a writing-table when the front was dropped.  The first object that attracted his attention was a package of paper of the size, and apparently of the quality, he sought.  He picked up a quire of it, and a smile of vindictive satisfaction played upon his wrinkled face, as he discovered upon it the identical stamp of the forged note.

His case was made out, and great was his joy.  Paul would certainly be disgraced and removed for such an outrage as a practical joke upon one of the most dignified instructors in the squadron.  We must do Mr. Hamblin the justice to say, that he did not wish to prove any more than he believed to be true; but it is very easy for a prejudiced person to believe a great deal against one who has offended him.  A student who was not fond of Greek could not be a very noble, or even a very upright one; and he was confident that, when Paul’s true character became known, when he was no longer stimulated to great deeds by his high office, he would prove to be a very different person from what he now appeared to be.

Mr. Hamblin confiscated a half quire of the paper, and secured several French exercises written by Captain Kendall, to be used as evidence against him.  He then searched the vessel for similar paper in the possession of other students, but found none.  He went on deck, to ascertain what was to be done; for Mr. Lowington had assured him he would not be any longer obliged to sail in the same vessel with the obnoxious student.  A boat from the ship was alongside, and Mr. Fluxion had just stepped on board.  The boatswain was hoisting his baggage out of the boat, which indicated that he was to remain.

Paul was reading an order just handed to him by Mr. Fluxion, which appeared to settle the difficulty between him and the learned professor.  The order was in these words:-

Mr. James E. Fluxion is hereby appointed vice-principal of the
academy squadron, and will be obeyed and respected accordingly.

Mr. Fluxion is also hereby instructed temporarily to discharge the
duties of Professor of Greek, Latin, and Mathematics, on board of
the Josephine.

R. LOWINGTON, Principal.

The new vice-principal handed a note to Mr. Hamblin as he came upon deck, in which he was directed to repair, with his baggage, on board of the ship.  The learned gentleman was not quite satisfied with this arrangement.  It looked a little ominous.

“Have you no order for Captain Kendall, Mr. Fluxion?” he asked, as the vice-principal waited for him to read his letter.

“I have given him an order from the principal.”

“Is he not directed to go on board of the ship?”

“He is not.”

“I have preferred charges against him, and I was led to believe that he would be suspended,” added Mr. Hamblin, who was not quite sure that he was not to be suspended himself.

“No order to that effect was sent by me,” replied Mr. Fluxion.  “You will excuse me, but the vessel is about to get under weigh.”

“I am not satisfied with these proceedings.  I complained to Mr. Lowington that it was impossible for me to instruct my classes while they were under the influence of Captain Kendall.  No notice appears to have been taken of my charges.”

“I think some notice has been taken of them.  You are directed to report to the principal, with your baggage, on board of the ship.”

“Am I to be punished instead of that obstinate and impudent pupil?” demanded the professor.

“I have nothing to say about it, Mr. Hamblin,” added Mr. Fluxion, sharply.  “If you are not going to the ship, we will weigh anchor and proceed on our voyage.”

The professor went down into his state-room, and hastily packed his trunk, which was brought up and put in the boat by one of the stewards.  The students watched these movements with the deepest interest, and they could hardly conceal their satisfaction when it was clear that the obnoxious instructor was going to leave the Josephine, “bag and baggage.”  There was a great deal of punching each other in the ribs, a great deal of half-suppressed chuckling, and a very decided inclination to give three cheers.  A few of the more prudent ones checked any noisy demonstration; but the moment that Mr. Hamblin went over the side was a very joyous one.

The Josephine tripped her anchor, and, hugged by the steam-tug, stood down the river on her way to Rotterdam.  Mr. Fluxion went below, and installed himself in the state-room vacated by Professor Hamblin.  Mr. Stoute gave the vice-principal a hearty welcome; and it was soon evident that they were men who could cordially agree.  Paul was delighted with the change; for if there was any one in the squadron, besides the principal and the doctor, for whom he had a high regard and a thorough respect, it was Mr. Fluxion.  He was a sailor from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head.  He had visited all the maritime ports of Europe, spoke half a dozen modern languages with facility, and was popular with the boys.  He was a sharp disciplinarian, and the students found it difficult to outwit him.  He knew all the tricks of sailors, and especially of man-of-war’s men.  He was the right hand man of Mr. Lowington, and the new arrangement, whereby the professor had been created vice-principal, and sent on board the consort, was to prevent the recurrence of such an incident as that which had imperilled her in the German Ocean during the squall.

Though Paul felt that his own powers were in some degree abridged by the presence of the new officer, whose authority, unlike that of the instructors before, extended to the vessel, and was equal to that of Mr. Lowington, he was now satisfied.  A competent person was present, with whom he could share the responsibility of the navigation of the vessel in case of an emergency.  He was on the best of terms with Mr. Fluxion, and he was happier than he had been before since the Josephine sailed from Hull.  Leaving him to the enjoyment of the new order of things, we will follow Mr. Hamblin on board of the ship.

The barge ran up alongside, and the professor’s trunk was hoisted on board.  As soon as the students saw the barge and the baggage, which indicated that the obnoxious old gentleman had been transferred to the Young America, a murmur of disapprobation went through the ship.

“I say, Wilton, we are to have that old humbug in the ship!” exclaimed Perth, the chief of the Red Cross Knights, who, however, had changed their name to the Knights of the Golden Fleece.

“That’s so,” replied Wilton, who had contrived to keep out of the brig nearly a week.  “He has his plunder with him.”

“We must do as the Josephines did,” added Perth, in a whisper.

“What’s that?”

“Get rid of him.  This shall be the first job of the Knights of the Golden Fleece.  McDougal, who is a capital fellow, told me all about how the fellows in the Josephine managed it.”

“I heard they had been hazing him.”

“That they did,” laughed Perth.  “There is fun in the thing.  If the old fossil was a decent fellow, of course we wouldn’t disturb him.  Just as soon as he made a row on board, all the fellows took the captain’s part.  Morgan dropped him into the river, by drawing out the nail that held the boat-hook in the wood; Blount dropped a coil of signal halyards on his head; and McDougal ducked him with the hose-pipe; and the old fellow got a bogus letter from Antwerp, inviting him to visit some of those kings, or something of that sort.”

“Who sent the letter?” asked Wilton, greatly interested, as he always was, in anything of this kind.

“Nobody knows; at least McDougal says so.  When we were at Brussels, the old Greek went to see some big fellow there,-the king or some minister,-and the big bug wouldn’t look at him.  One of our fellows heard Stoute telling the doctor about it; and Fatty was so tickled that he shook just like a freshly-baked cup-custard.  There goes the boatswain’s whistle.  We are off now,” added Perth, as he sprang to his place at the capstan.

The anchor had before been hove short, and in a few moments the Young America, also in the warm embrace of a powerful steam-tug, moved down the river.

“All hands in the rigging!” shouted the first lieutenant, as the ship approached the Victoria and Albert.

The students ran up the shrouds like monkeys, and stationed themselves in the rigging.

“Three cheers for the Queen of England,” called Goodwin; and they were given with becoming zeal.

A lady dressed in black, who was walking the promenade deck, near the dining saloon, bowed and waved her handkerchief.  That lady was Queen Victoria.  The Josephine at this moment came up on the other side, and delivered her round of cheers.  Mr. Fluxion carried the intelligence on board that the queen had returned, and that the yacht would sail that evening; and all hands were on the lookout for her majesty.  She bowed and waved her handkerchief to the Josephines, as she had to the students in the ship.

She was not very distinctly seen by the curious students in either vessel, and appeared like a stout “dumpy” little woman, in no respect different from any other lady.  In spite of this fact, it was voted to be a big thing to have seen the Queen of England; and the king of the little realm of Belgium sank into insignificance, compared with her.

“She don’t look like a queen,” said Captain Haven to Mr. Mapps, who stood next to him.

“Did you expect to see her with her crown and coronation robes on, and with the sceptre in her hand?” laughed the professor.

“Not exactly; but I was not prepared to see a lady so much like any well-dressed woman we meet in the street.”

“Let me see,” said Mr. Mapps, glancing at the shore, intent upon renewing his favorite topic, “Fort St. Laurent must have been here; and this is where Van Speyk went down, or rather went up.”

“Who was Van Speyk?”

“He was the commander of a Dutch gunboat, in the revolution of 1830.  His vessel wouldn’t come about-what do you call it?”

“Missed stays, sir,” replied Captain Haven.

“Missed stays, and got aground right under the guns of the fort.  He was ordered to surrender, but refused to do so, though there was not the least chance for him to make a successful resistance.  He was determined that the rebels should not have his vessel, and, rushing down into the powder-magazine, he said his prayers, and coolly laid his lighted cigar on an open barrel of powder.  An explosion followed which shook the whole city.  Twenty-eight, out of thirty-one on board, including the heroic captain, were killed-blown up into the air.  A monument to his memory was erected by the side of that of De Ruiter, and the government pledged itself that a vessel in the Dutch navy should always bear the name of Van Speyk.”

“He was a good fellow,” replied the captain, warmly.