This was the beginning of the end.  Despair took possession of the city.  The whole population had been long subsisting upon an allowance of a pound of bread to each man, and half-a-pound for each woman; but the bread was now exhausted, the famine had already begun, and with the loss of the lake starvation was close at their doors.  They sent urgent entreaties to, the Prince to attempt something in their behalf.  Three weeks more they assigned as the longest term during which they could possibly hold out.  He sent them word by carrier pigeons to endure yet a little time, for he was assembling a force, and would still succeed in furnishing them with supplies.  Meantime, through the month of June the sufferings of the inhabitants increased hourly.  Ordinary food had long since vanished.  The population now subsisted on linseed and rape-seed; as these supplies were exhausted they devoured cats, dogs, rats, and mice, and when at last these unclean animals had been all consumed, they boiled the hides of horses and oxen; they ate shoe-leather; they plucked the nettles and grass from the graveyards, and the weeds which grew between the stones of the pavement, that with such food they might still support life a little longer, till the promised succor should arrive.  Men, women, and children fell dead by scores in the streets, perishing of pure starvation, and the survivors had hardly the heart or the strength to bury them out of their sight.  They who yet lived seemed to flit like shadows to and fro, envying those whose sufferings had already been terminated by death.

Thus wore away the month of June.  On the 1st of July the burghers consented to a parley.  Deputies were sent to confer with the besiegers, but the negotiations were abruptly terminated, for no terms of compromise were admitted by Don Frederic.  On the 3rd a tremendous cannonade was re-opened upon the city.  One thousand and eight balls were discharged—­the most which had ever been thrown in one day, since the commencement of the siege.  The walls were severely shattered, but the assault was not ordered, because the besiegers were assured that it was physically impossible for the inhabitants to hold out many days longer.  A last letter, written in blood, was now despatched to the Prince of Orange, stating the forlorn condition to which they were reduced.  At the same time, with the derision of despair, they flung into the hostile camp the few loaves of bread which yet remained within the city walls.  A day or two later, a second and third parley were held, with no more satisfactory result than had attended the first.  A black flag was now hoisted on the cathedral tower, the signal of despair to friend and foe, but a pigeon soon afterwards flew into the town with a letter from the Prince, begging them to maintain themselves two days longer, because succor was approaching.