long as the waters covered the country, and when the flood had abated he not only repaired the dike at his own expense, but also rebuilt the cottages of his vassals. In process of time these dikes, now almost five centuries old, had assumed the appearance of natural hills. On the summit were planted thick curtains of trees, somewhat bent by the west wind. At the highest point the two ranges of hills joined together to form a sort of plateau or promontory, that jutted like a horse-spur, or ship's prow, sheer into the sea, and at the extreme end of this cape the castle stood out like a sentinel. The perpendicular dike presented to the ocean a face of granite wall and recalled those majestic rocks to be found along the Rhine, and out of which the castle crowning the summit looks as if it had been carved.
At high tide, the waves came breaking themselves in baffled rage at the foot of the buttress thrown up to check their fury. On the land side the two dikes sloped gently away, and, as they separated, their branches formed a small valley, which gradually grew larger, enclosing a magnificent park, with forests, pond and pastures. The trees, that were never pruned, spread out
