s
they hurled renewed defiance at the enemy. "Ye call us rat-eaters and
dog-eaters," they cried, "and it is true. So long, then, as ye hear dog
bark or cat mew within the walls, ye may know that the city holds out.
And when all has perished but ourselves, be sure that we will each devour
our left arms, retaining our right to defend our women, our liberty, and
our religion, against the foreign tyrant. Should God, in his wrath, doom
us to destruction, and deny us all relief, even then will we maintain
ourselves for ever against your entrance. When the last hour has come,
with our own hands we will set fire to the city and perish, men, women,
and children together in the flames, rather than suffer our homes to be
polluted and our liberties to be crushed." Such words of defiance,
thundered daily from the battlements, sufficiently informed Valdez as to
his chance of conquering the city, either by force or fraud, but at the
same time, he felt comparatively relieved by the inactivity of Boisot's
fleet, which still lay stranded at North Aa. "As well," shouted the
Spaniards, derisively, to the citizens, "as well can the Prince of Orange
pluck the stars from the sky as bring the ocean to the walls of Leyden
for your relief."

On the 28th of September, a dove flew into the city, bringing a letter
from Admiral Boisot. In this despatch, the position of the fleet at North
Aa was described in encouraging terms, and the inhabitants were assured
that, in a very few days at furthest, the long-expected relief would
enter their gates. The letter was read publicly upon the market-place,
and the bells were rung for joy. Nevertheless, on the morrow, the vanes
pointed to the east, the waters, so far from rising, continued to sink,
and Admiral Boisot was almost in despair. He wrote to the Prince, that if
the spring-tide, now to be expected, should not, together with a strong
and favorable wind, come immediately to their relief, it would be in pain
to attempt anything further, and that the expedition would, of necessity,
be abandoned. The tempest came to their relief. A violent equinoctial
gale, on the night of the 1st and 2nd of October, came storming from the
north-west, shifting after a few hours full eight points, and then
blowing still more violently from the south-west. The waters of the North
Sea were piled in vast masses upon the southern coast of Holland, and
then dashed furiously landward, the ocean rising over the earth, and
sweeping