those who understood the nature of the undertaking were aware that much depended on the direction of the wind. An easterly gale was calculated to blow back the waters and prevent their rising, while one from the south or west would force them on towards the city. The wind was now blowing from the cast and the tides were at their lowest, so that the waters were making but slow progress. Still the loyal-hearted among the population, trusting to their Prince’s promises, were assured that if it was in the power of human help they would in time be relieved. The “Glippers,” however, who professed to know the country well, ridiculed the desperate project. Those in the town taunted their fellow-citizens, frequently crying out, “Go up to the tower and tell us if you can see the ocean coming over the dry land to our relief.” Day after day they did go up, hoping, praying, fearing, and at last almost despairing of relief from God or man. Letters were also daily received from those with Valdez urging the inhabitants to spare themselves further suffering. Young Albert and Berthold had made themselves especially useful by going round the ramparts, not once or twice a day, but many times during the day and night, at all hours, so that they might not only see that the sentinels were keeping a vigilant watch, but that they might be able to discover treachery should any have been attempted. They had one evening gone to the top of Hengist’s Tower, a spot they were especially fond of visiting at all hours of the day and night, when they saw the hitherto dark sky to the southward suddenly illumined by bright flashes of light following one another in rapid succession.

“Hark, I can hear the roar of guns,” exclaimed Berthold. They listened, there was no doubt about it. The flashes continued, now fires blazed up in various directions. There was more firing, not always in the same place, the tide of battle was evidently moving on. The lads were at length joined by several citizens.

“The Sea Beggars are coming!” shouted Albert, unwittingly, “they are fighting their way towards us.”

“We must not be too sanguine,” observed one of the citizens. “There may be fighting taking place, but we cannot tell who is gaining the victory. It may be that the Spaniards are driving back our friends.”

“I am very sure that they are not,” cried Albert. “Admiral Boisot and his gallant followers are victorious—of that I am certain.”

“Count Louis and his whole army were cut to pieces not long ago,” remarked this citizen, in a melancholy tone. The 

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