Sea, sky, and earth regard each other
gloomily, as though they were three implacable enemies. As one
contemplates this scene some great convulsion of nature seems imminent.

The village of Scheveningen is situated on the dunes, which ward off
the sea, and hide it so entirely that from the shore nothing is to be
seen but the cone-shaped church-steeple rising like an obelisk in the
midst of the sand. The village is divided into two parts, one of which
is composed of elegant houses representing every kind of Dutch shapes
and colors, and built for the use of strangers, with "to let" posted
on them in various languages. The other part, in which the natives
live, consists of black cottages, little streets, and retreats which
foreigners never think of entering.

The population of Scheveningen, which numbers only a few thousands, is
almost entirely composed of fishermen, the greater number of whom are
very poor. The village is still one of the principal stations of the
herring fishery, where are cured those celebrated fish to which
Holland owes her riches and power. But the profits of this industry go
to the captains of the fishing vessels, and the men of Scheveningen,
who are employed as sailors, hardly earn a livelihood. On the beach,
in front of the village, many of those wide staunch boats with a
single mast and a large square sail may always be seen ranged in line
on the sand one beside the other, like the Greek galleys on the coast
of Troy: thus they are safe from the gusts of wind. The flotilla,
accompanied by a steam sloop, starts early in June, directing its
course toward the Scottish coast. The first herrings taken are at once
sent to Holland, and conveyed in a cart ornamented with flags to the
king, who in exchange for this present gives five hundred florins.
These boats make catches of other fish as well, which are in part sold
at auction on the sea-shore, and in part are given to the Scheveningen
fishermen, who send their wives to sell them at the Hague market.

Scheveningen, like all the other villages of the coast, Katwijk,
Vlaardingen, Maassluis, is a village that has lost its former
prosperity in consequence of the decline of the herring fishery,
owing, as every one knows, to the competition of England and the
disastrous wars. But poverty, instead of weakening the character of
this small population, beyond doubt the most original and poetical in
Holland, has strengthened it. The inhabitants of Scheveningen in