Hoorn's streets are long and cheerful, with houses graciously bending
forwards, many of them dignified by black paint and yet not made too
grave by it. This black paint blending with the many trees on the
canal sides has the same curious charm as at Amsterdam, although there
the blackness is richer and more absolute. Even the Hoorn warehouses
are things of beauty: one in particular, by the Harbour Tower, with
bright green shutters, is indescribably gay, almost coquettish. Hoorn
also has the most satisfying little houses I saw in Holland--streets
of them. And of all the costumes of Holland I remember most vividly
the dead black dress and lace cap of a woman who suddenly turned a
corner here--as if she had walked straight from a picture by Elias.
The Harbour Tower is perhaps Hoorn's finest building, its charm
being intensified rather than diminished by the hideous barracks
close by. St. Jan's Gasthuis has a facade of beautiful gravity, and
the gateway of the home for Ouden Vrouwen is perfect. The museum
in the Tribunalshof is the most intimate and human collection of
curiosities which I saw in Holland--not a fossil, not a stuffed bird,
in the building. Among the pictures are the usual groups of soldiers
and burgomasters, and the usual fine determined De Ruyter by Bol.
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