pierced!” And swift consternation seized them, as they began to grasp the meaning of the shouts of joy within the walls of Leyden.
But a week passed, and the waters did not continue to rise. The low tides and the constant east winds were most unfavorable to the present flooding of the land. Confidence was restored to the Spanish army, and in the city the recent joy faded away as suddenly as it had come. Dull distrust reigned unchecked, and the Glippers of whom there were not a few in the town, lost no opportunity to scoff at ‘This mad hopeless scheme of the Prince’s,’ as they called it.
“Go up to the Tower on Hengist Hill,” they would cry scornfully to the patriots, “and see if the ocean is coming over the dry land to your relief!” Then it came to be that Hengist Hill was haunted day and night by anxious, hunger-stricken men and women, watching, hoping, trusting, praying that some help might come to the famished city.
Meantime the weather continued stifling
