The men who catch the cheeses are
exceedingly adroit--it is the nearest thing to an English game that
is played in Holland. Before they are finally placed in position the
cheeses are liberally greased, until they glow and glitter like orange
fires. All the afternoon the boats come in, with their collections
from the various dairies on the water. By road also come cheeses in
wagons of light polished wood painted blue within; and all the while
the carillon of the beautiful grave Weigh House is ringing out its
little tunes--the wedding march from "Lohengrin" among them--and the
little mechanical horsemen are charging in the tourney to the blast of
the little mechanical trumpeter. At one o'clock they run only a single
course; but at noon the glories of Ashby-de-la-Zouche are enacted.
By nine o'clock on the Friday morning the market square is covered
with rectangular yellow heaps arranged with Dutch systematic order
and symmetry, many of them protected by tarpaulins, and the square
is filled also with phlegmatic sellers and buyers, smoking, smoking,
unceasingly smoking, and discussing the weather and the cheese,
the cheese and the Government.
Not till ten may business begin. Instantly the first stroke of ten
sounds the aspect of the place is changed.
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