the changing sands places fit for men to live in, until now along the strip which guards the coast of Flanders there are green glades gay with flowers, and shady dells, and gardens sheltered from the wind, plots of pasture-land, cottages and churches which seem to grow out of the landscape, their colouring so harmonizes with the colouring which surrounds them. And ever, close at hand, the sea is rolling in and falling on the shore. 'Come unto these yellow sands,' and when the sun is going down, casting a long bar of burnished gold across the water, against which, perhaps, the sail of some boat looms dark for a moment and then passes on, the sky glows in such a lovely, tender light that those who watch it must needs linger till the twilight is fading away before they turn their faces inland. There are few evenings for beauty like a summer evening on the shores of Flanders. FOOTNOTES. [Footnote 27: Derode, _Histoire Religieuse de la Flandre Maritime_, p. 86.] [Footnote 28: Robinson, _Bruges, an Historical Sketch_, p. 176.] EAST FLANDERS AND BRABANT EAST FLANDERS AND BRABANT CHAPTER XII GHENT From Bruges, the capital of West Flanders, to Ghent, the capital of East Flanders, it is only half an hour's journey by rail; but the contrast between them is remarkable. Bruges is a city of the dead, of still life, of stagnant waters, of mouldering walls and melancholy streets, long since fallen from its high estate into utter decay. Ghent, on the other hand, is active, bustling, prosperous. The narrow lanes and gloomy courts of mediæval times have, in many parts, been swept away to make room for broad, well-lighted streets and squares, through which electric trams, crowded with busy people, run incessantly all day long. Bruges is known as 'La Morte.' Ghent is often called 'La Ville de Flore,' from the numerous gardens and hot-houses which supply plants to the markets of France, Germany, America, and other countries. Other branches of industry thrive. The trade in flax, linen, leather goods, engines, and lace, is large and flourishing. There are warehouses packed full of articles of commerce waiting to be sent off by canal or railway, and yards piled high with wood from North America, or bags of Portland cement from England.