half past nine
`` In the ancient town of Bruges , In the quaint old Flemish city , As the evening shades descended , Low and loud , and sweetly blended , Low at times and loud at times , And changing like a poet 's rhymes , Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges . '' The students listened with almost breathless interest till the last line of the `` Belfry '' was read ; there was something so grand and beautiful in the poem itself , as the images of the past are brought up , -- `` I beheld the pageants , splendid , That adorned those days of old : Stately dames like queens attended , Knights who bore the Fleece of Gold , '' -- and something in the association of the living lines with the real belfry of Bruges before them , that the impression was one to be remembered for years . After a hasty walk through a couple of the ancient streets of the city , the students returned to the railroad station , and the train started for Brussels , a ride of about two hours from Bruges . It was half past nine when they arrived at the capital of Belgium . The party were greeted by Mr. Fluxion , who had been sent direct from Antwerp to make arrangements for their stay over night . Captain Kendall , his officers and crew , were sent to the Hôtel Royal in the Rue Fossé aux Loups . It was a small hotel , but very nice and comfortable .