anchored his fleet within a respectful distance, and spent what remained of the day in carefully reconnoitring the fort, which seemed only too strong.  In conjunction with Leyderdorp, the head-quarters of Valdez, a mile and a half distant on the right, and within a mile of the city, it seemed so insuperable an impediment that Boisot wrote in despondent tone to the Prince of Orange.  He announced his intention of carrying the fort, if it were possible, on the following morning, but if obliged to retreat, he observed, with something like despair, that there would be nothing for it but to wait for another gale of wind.  If the waters should rise sufficiently to enable them to make a wide detour, it might be possible, if, in the meantime, Leyden did not starve or surrender, to enter its gates from the opposite side.

Meantime, the citizens had grown wild with expectation.  A dove had been despatched by Boisot, informing them of his precise position, and a number of citizens accompanied the burgomaster, at nightfall, toward the tower of Hengist.  Yonder, cried the magistrate, stretching out his hand towards Lammen, “yonder, behind that fort, are bread and meat, and brethren in thousands.  Shall all this be destroyed by the Spanish guns, or shall we rush to the rescue of our friends?”—­“We will tear the fortress to fragments with our teeth and nails,” was the reply, “before the relief, so long expected, shall be wrested from us.”  It was resolved that a sortie, in conjunction with the operations of Boisot, should be made against Lammen with the earliest dawn.  Night descended upon the scene, a pitch dark night, full of anxiety to the Spaniards, to the armada, to Leyden.  Strange sights and sounds occurred at different moments to bewilder the anxious sentinels.  A long procession of lights issuing from the fort was seen to flit across the black face of the waters, in the dead of night, and the whole of the city wall, between the Cow-gate and the Tower of Burgundy, fell with a loud crash.  The horror-struck citizens thought that the Spaniards were upon them at last; the Spaniards imagined the noise to indicate, a desperate sortie of the citizens.  Everything was vague and mysterious.

Day dawned, at length, after the feverish, night, and, the Admiral prepared for the assault.  Within the fortress reigned a death-like stillness, which inspired a sickening suspicion.  Had the city, indeed, been carried in the night; had the massacre already commenced; had all this labor and audacity been expended in vain?  Suddenly a man was descried, wading breast-high through the water from Lammen towards the fleet, while at the same time, one solitary boy was seen to wave his cap from the summit of the fort.  After a moment of doubt, the happy mystery was solved.  The Spaniards had fled, panic struck, during the darkness.  Their position would still have enabled them, with firmness, to frustrate the enterprise of the patriots, but the hand of God, which had sent the ocean and