waves of the
North Sea were made to obey the command of man. On the opposite, or
eastern aide, Harlem looked towards Amsterdam. That already flourishing
city was distant but ten miles. The two cities were separated by an
expanse of inland water, and united by a slender causeway. The Harlem
Lake, formed less than a century before by the bursting of four lesser,
meres during a storm which had threatened to swallow the whole Peninsula,
extended itself on the south and east; a sea of limited dimensions, being
only fifteen feet in depth with seventy square miles of surface, but,
exposed as it lay to all the winds of heaven, often lashed into storms as
dangerous as those of the Atlantic. Beyond the lake, towards the north,
the waters of the Y nearly swept across the Peninsula. This inlet of the
Zuyder Zee was only separated from the Harlem mere by a slender thread of
land. Over this ran the causeway between the two sister cities, now so
unfortunately in arms against each other. Midway between the two, the
dyke was pierced and closed again with a system of sluice-works, which
when opened admitted the waters of the lake into those of the estuary,
and caused an inundation of the surrounding country.

The city was one of the largest and most beautiful in the Netherlands. It
was also one of the weakest.--The walls were of antique construction,
turreted, but not strong. The extent and feebleness of the defences made
a large garrison necessary, but unfortunately, the garrison was even
weaker than the walls. The city's main reliance was on the stout hearts
of the inhabitants. The streets were, for that day, spacious and regular;
the canals planted with limes and poplars. The ancient church of Saint
Bavon, a large imposing structure of brick, stood almost in the centre of
the place, the most prominent object, not only of the town but of the
province, visible over leagues of sea and of land more level than the
sea, and seeming to gather the whole quiet little city under its sacred
and protective wings. Its tall open-work leaden spire was surmounted by a
colossal crown, which an exalted imagination might have regarded as the
emblematic guerdon of martyrdom held aloft over the city, to reward its
heroism and its agony.

It was at once obvious that the watery expanse between Harlem and
Amsterdam would be the principal theatre of the operations about to
commence. The siege was soon begun. The fugitive burgomaster, De Fries,
had the effro