nds rise, sink, and reappear, like the realms
of the Arabian Nights at the touch of a magic wand. Flemish Zealand,
which is divided from Belgian Flanders by the double barrier of
politics and religion, and from Holland by the Scheldt, preserves the
customs, the beliefs, and the exact impress of the sixteenth century.
The traditions of the war with Spain are still as real and living as
the events of our own times. The soil is fertile, the inhabitants
enjoy great prosperity, their manners are severe; they have schools
and printing-presses, and live peacefully on their fragment of the
earth which appeared but yesterday, to disappear again on that day
when the sea shall demand it for a third burial. One of my
fellow-travellers, a Belgian lady, who gave me this information, drew
my attention to the fact that the inhabitants of Flemish Zealand were
still Catholics when they inundated their land, although they had
already rebelled against the Spanish dominion, and consequently it
occurred, strangely enough, that the province went down Catholic and
came up Protestant.

Greatly to my surprise, the boat, instead of continuing down the
Scheldt, and so making the circuit of the island of South Beveland,
entered the island, when it reached a certain point, passing through a
narrow canal that crosses or rather cuts the island apart, and so
joins the two branches of the river that encircles it. This was the
first Dutch canal through which I had passed: it was a new experience.
The canal is bordered on either side by a dyke which hides the
country. The ship glided on stealthily, as if it had taken some hidden
road in order to spring out on some one unawares. There was not a
single boat in the canal nor a living soul on the dykes, and the
silence and solitude strengthened the impression that our course had
the hidden air of a piratical incursion. On leaving the canal we
entered the eastern branch of the Scheldt.

We were now in the heart of Zealand. On the right was the island of
Tholen; on the left, the island of North Beveland; behind, South
Beveland; in front, Schouven. Excepting the island of Walcheren, we
could now see all the principal islands of the mysterious archipelago.

But the mystery consists in this--the islands are not seen, they must
be imagined. To the right and left of the wide river, before and
behind the ship, nothing was to be seen but the straight line of the
embankments, like a green band on a level with the wa