A bit aside from the direct route between the two cities, but well worth going out of one's way to see, was Louvain. Baedeker speaks of it as "a dull place with 42,000 inhabitants," but we found it delightful. It was a pretty old town, with its richly fretted Hôtel de Ville, the finest in Belgium, its university and library, its impressive church in the center of the city, and the innumerable other gray old churches with their long sloping roofs. The streets were narrow, picturesque and rather dirty. They were lined with the high walls and closed windows of convent after convent, and there were huge clusters of monastic buildings on the hills about, many of these newly built and modern. The whole town seethed with black-robed priests, brown-robed, bare-footed monks, and white-coped nuns. In the Middle Ages Louvain had four times its present population; its once famous university had diminished in the same proportion. There was a time when no man might hold public office in the Austrian Netherlands who did not have a degree from the University of Louvain. Of the two thousand cloth factories which made the city a hive of industry during the thirteen hundreds but little sign remained when we were there. During the fifteenth century it was the largest city west of the Alps. The walls were built at the period of greatest prosperity, and much of the land which they inclosed had been turned into gardens, showing how the population had decreased. It was said that however much outward change there had been, however, in the Abbey of the White Canons the spirit of "religious mediævalism" was still to be found, untouched by modern thought. Southey describes the town hall at Louvain as an "architectural bijou ... like a thing of ivory or filigree designed for a lady's dressing table." This building seems to have passed through the war unscathed. But the famous library of the university, which was one of the most noted in Europe, containing over a hundred thousand rare manuscripts, was completely destroyed. Not far from Brussels, and on the direct road to Antwerp, is Vilvorde, a small town, chiefly noted as the scene of the martyrdom of Tyndale, the famous Englishman who attempted the translation of the Bible, and for this was imprisoned and later burned at the stake by the Church. His last words were, "Lord, open the King of England's eyes!" It seems as if his prayer must have been heard, because within a year--in 1537--the King ordered the publication of the Bible and its use in all the churches of the land. Halfway between Brussels and Antwerp is Malines, perhaps better known to us by its Dutch name of Mechlin. Every house had its maker of lace; they could be seen on pleasant days sitting on low stools out of doors among the flowers, singing as they worked.