On one subject, however, they both agreed: that the art of curing and pickling herrings was discovered by William Beukles of Holland, and that the country did perfectly right in honoring him as a national benefactor, for its wealth and importance had been in a great measure due to its herring trade. "It is astonishing," said Ben, "in what prodigious quantities those fish are found. I don't know how it is here, but on the coast of England, off Yarmouth, the herring shoals have been known to be six and seven feet deep with fish." "That is prodigious, indeed," said Lambert, "but you know your word herring is derived from the German _heer_, an army, on account of a way the fish have of coming in large numbers." Soon afterward, while passing a cobbler's shop, Ben exclaimed: "Hollo! Lambert, here is the name of one of your greatest men over a cobbler's stall! Boerhaave--if it were only Herman Boerhaave instead of Hendrick, it would be complete." Lambert knit his brows reflectively, as he replied: "Boerhaave--Boerhaave--the name is perfectly familiar; I remember, too, he was born in 1668, but the rest is all gone, as usual. There have been so many famous Hollanders, you see, it is impossible for a fellow to know them all. What was he? Did he have two heads? or was he one of your great, natural swimmers like Marco Polo?" "He had _four_ heads," answered Ben, laughing, "for he was a great physician, naturalist, botanist and chemist. I am full of him just now, for I read his life a few weeks ago." "Pour out a little then," said Lambert; "only walk faster, we shall lose sight of the other boys." "Well," resumed Ben, quickening his pace, and looking with great interest at everything going on in the crowded street. "This Dr. Boerhaave was a great anspewker." "A great _what_?" roared Lambert. "Oh, I beg pardon--I was thinking of that man over there, with the cocked hat. He's an anspewker, isn't he?" "Yes. He's an aanspreeker--if that is what you mean to say. But what about your friend with the four heads?" "Well, as I was going to say, the doctor was left a penniless orphan at sixteen without education or friends." "Jolly beginning!" interposed Lambert. "Now don't interrupt. He was a poor friendless orphan at sixteen, but he was so persevering and industrious, so determined to gain knowledge, that he made his way, and in time became one of the most learned men of Europe. All the----What is that?" "Where? What do you mean?" "Why, that paper on the door opposite. Don't you see? Two or three persons are reading it; I have noticed several of these papers since I've been here."