About twelve hundred years ago, they tell you, a gay and worldly young prince lived in a castle near the edge of this forest, where he was fond of hunting. He was so devoted to the sport, in fact, that he quite neglected the fast days, and hunted on Fridays as freely as on Mondays. This impiety could not be permitted, of course. One day a white stag bearing between its antlers a cross, appeared to the prince in a forest glade. The vision so impressed the young man that he forsook his sport and turned religious. In time he became Bishop of Liège, converted Brabant from paganism to Christianity, and was canonized by the Church he had served so faithfully. The people still believe that the blessing of St. Hubert rests upon the Forêt de Soignes. A favourite sport with all classes, but also a social function, was horse-racing. There was a lovely miniature racecourse at Boitsfort, just beyond the Parc de la Cambre. We walked down among the flower beds and under the shading trees to where the horses were being paraded and the betting was going on. The dresses of the women, of whom all sorts and conditions were crowded together, were quite remarkable. The races frequently took place on Sunday afternoon. There was one at Groenendal, out on the avenue Louise, through the Parc de la Cambre--the latter very beautiful with its wide sweeps and vistas, all crowded with the holiday-making people. We ran by the artificial waters dotted with little boats, out through the alley of the Forêt de Soignes, where the deep, pleasant woods were all sun and shadow, and filled with promenaders. From there we went on past Groenendal Château, along a road that reminded one of Rock Creek Park in Washington, turning at length into the Grande Route, which leads to Waterloo. This was a great avenue of trees, lined with the burnish of copper beeches. At last we reached the hippodrome, the racecourse of Groenendal, and were just in time to see the great steeple-chase of the year. The course was unexpectedly pretty, small and with cozy stands. The international steeplechase, ridden by French and Belgian officers in uniform, was very exciting and well run, and the whole scene beautiful against the green background of the forest. Afterward we walked in the Bois de la Cambre, across the wide lawns with the people sitting about in groups, and into the shade of the great trees, dipping down into the valleys where hundreds of children were playing and tumbling about, and up again across the plateau. Here in the groves of beech trees were restaurants with many little tables and crowds of people listening to the music. Later we motored back to the avenue Louise, which was the bourgeois promenade of a Sunday afternoon, and down its long length to the boulevards and home.