Travelling in Belgium is cheap and easy. The best way to see the out-of-the-way parts of the country would be to journey about in a barge on the canals. There are a great many canals. You could go all the way from France to the other side of Belgium in a barge, threading your way through fields, and meadow-lands, and villages, and stopping every now and then at some of the big towns. If you read that charming book "Vanity Fair," you will see that Mr. Thackeray, who wrote it, says that once an Englishman, who went to Belgium for a week, found the eating and drinking on these boats so good that he went backwards and forwards on the canal between Bruges and Ghent perpetually till the railways were invented, when he drowned himself on the last trip of the boat!

But if that ever happened it was long ago. Nowadays, when travellers are in such a hurry, the canals are only used for carrying coals, timber, and other goods. They are largely used for that purpose. The Belgians are very wise about their canals; they keep them in good order, and send as many things as possible by water. It is not so quick, but it is much less expensive, and a great deal safer, than sending them by railway.

It is interesting to stand on the bank of a canal and watch a row of barges moving slowly past. Sometimes a little steam-tug puffs along, pulling three or four barges after it. Some are pulled by horses, and often men or women labour along the towing-path dragging these heavily laden vessels by a rope fastened to a short mast set up in the bows.

This is hard work, but the barge-folk seem to think nothing of it. Whole families are born, live, and die on their barges. You often see the wife or daughter of the bargeman steering, while the children are playing on the top of the hatches, and the husband is doing some work among the cargo, or just sitting smoking his pipe. These floating homes are long and broad, painted in bright colours, with a deck-cabin, the windows of which are often hung with pretty curtains. The children run about, and seem never to tumble overboard. If they did they would be easily pulled out, for the barges are very low in the water.

As the country is so flat, bicycling is easy, and alongside most of the roads there is a path made for this purpose, which is kept up by a tax everyone who has a bicycle must pay. Always remember that if you meet another person you keep to the right, and not, as in England, to the left. The same rule applies to driving in a carriage or riding a horse.

The Belgians have an excellent system of light district railways, which run in all directions, some worked by steam and some by electricity. These are very useful, for the trains stop at every village, however small, and the country people can easily go to market or to visit each other. Outside each carriage there is a platform, on which you can stand and see the country. The fares are low, and you can go a long way for a few pence. The carriages are open from end to end, and if you travel in one of them you will generally see a crowd of peasants in blue blouses, old women in long black cloaks and white caps, priests, and soldiers (who only pay half-price), the men all smoking, and the women talking about what they have bought, or what they are going to buy. They are always talking about that, and, indeed, seem never to speak about anything else. A few hours' journey in one of these district railways, which are called the Chemins-de-fer-Vicinaux, is a far better way of getting a peep at the Belgian people than rushing along in an express train from one big town to another.

The first railway on the Continent of Europe was in Belgium. It was opened seventy-four years ago—in May, 1835—and ran from Brussels, the capital of Belgium, to Malines, a town which you will see on the map. There are now, of course, a great many railways, which belong to the State and not, as in England, to private companies.

Season tickets are much used on Belgian railways. For instance, anyone wishing to travel for five days on end has only to pay £1 4s. 7d. for a first-class ticket, 16s. 5d. for a second-class, or 9s. 5d. for a third-class. For these small sums you can go all over Belgium on the State railways, stopping as often as you please, at any hour of the day or night, for five days. All you have to do is to take a small photograph of yourself to the station an hour before you intend to start, and tell the railway clerk at the booking-office by which class you wish to travel, and when you go back to the station you will find your ticket ready, with your photograph pasted on it, so that the guards may know that you are the person to whom it belongs. You then pay for it, and leave 4s. more, which are given back at whatever station your trip may end. There are also tickets for longer periods than five days. You can send a letter instead of going to the station. You can write from England, and find your ticket waiting for you at Ostend or Antwerp, or any other place in Belgium from which you may intend to start on your journey. This is very convenient, for it saves the trouble of buying a fresh ticket each day. Besides, it is a great deal cheaper. These tickets are called abonnements.

There are also abonnements for children going to school, and for workmen. It is quite common in Belgium to be in a railway carriage where, when the guard comes round, all the passengers pull out season tickets.

There is one thing about travelling by railway in Belgium which English people don't always know, and that is the rule about opening and shutting windows. The Belgians are not so fond of fresh air as we are. They sleep with their bedroom windows shut, which makes them soft, and apt to catch cold. So they are always afraid of draughts, especially in a railway train. The first thing a Belgian does, as soon as he enters a carriage, is to shut the windows, and the rule is that if by any chance there were, say, five people who wanted a window open, and only one who wanted it shut, that one can refuse to let the others have it open. If you are sitting near a window, and open it, you may be sure that someone, who is perhaps sitting at the other end of the carriage, will step across and shut it. They never ask leave, or, indeed, say a word; they just shut it.

One day, two or three years ago, there was a great crowd in a district train. It was July, and very hot. All the windows of one first-class carriage were, as usual, shut, and it was so stifling that some of us stood outside on the platform so as to get some fresh air. A feeble old lady chanced to be sitting next one of the windows, and wished to open it. All the other passengers refused to allow her. She told them she felt as if she would faint from the heat. Not one of the Belgian ladies and gentlemen, who were all well-dressed people, cared about that. They just shrugged their shoulders. At last the old lady, who had been turning very pale, fainted away. Then they were afraid, and the guard was sent for. He insisted on letting in some air, and attended to the lady, who presently revived. The other passengers at once had the window shut again, and the lady had to be taken into another carriage, on which everyone began to laugh, as if it was a good joke.

Some Englishmen are always having rows about this window question; but the best plan is to say nothing, and remember that every country has its own customs, which strangers ought to observe.