"But for the tone in which thy words are uttered, I would say thou wert jesting with me, Lisa."

"Brother, would I jest on death; and, above all, here and now?" she asked, solemnly. "No, I am speaking the truth before Him in whose presence I shall be ere long."

"Lisa!" exclaimed Philip in heartfelt astonishment; for if ever his sister's dimmed eye and young faded face had spoken to his heart the same mysterious warning, least of all did he feel it at that moment, when her cheek was burning with the glow of excitement, and her whole mien irradiated with more beauty than he had ever seen it wear in the fulness of health and strength. "Do not give these sad thoughts a place within your heart," he said at length, "what you have felt is but the depression which is a natural consequence of so much fatigue and suffering: you have been overworked of late."

"But I shall rest very soon," she answered, "and sweet and deep that rest will be. Think not I am deceiving myself. I do believe, Philip, that when God is about to call us home, He ever sends some mysterious inward warning of the death-angel's approach, that we may prepare to meet him. I know not how

or by whom that warning comes to all. He hath ministers enough that do his pleasure, and they are more and oftener around us than we think. Perhaps they are sometimes sent to whisper softly to the hearts of his own children, that the many mansions in their Father's house are ready to receive them."

"Does the Book of God speak so, sister?" asked Philip. "Alas, you know much more of it than I."

"But will you not try to learn it now, dear Philip, that you may read it to my father in the long winter evenings ?"

"Winter! the reaper's song has not yet ceased, and which of us will live to see the snow on the ground again ?"

"I never shall at least. When first I felt my health and strength failing me, I tried to think, as you do now, that it was but natural. In vain I sought to blind myself, it would not be, Philip. Do I not know the shadow of the grave and the footstep of death when it is coming? But I also know that my Redeemer liveth; He will be with me through the dark valley; his rod and his staff shall comfort me. Kind friend and brother, wilt thou not seek Him too?"

As she was speaking these words, Philip felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and turning, started to see his friend Quinten, not as he had left him last, pale, spiritless, and dejected, but with a glowing cheek and an eye beaming with excitement.

"There's hope for us yet, Philip," he said, abruptly, “we'll have bread to eat, or we'll die for it."

"Where, how shall we get it ?"

"How can we hope to get anything now, save by our own strong arms? If they will not give us justice we will take it, we will force it from them. We mean not to lie down and die of famine at the commands of Messer Adrian Van der Werf. Our hearts and our hands are strong with the strength of desperation, and we will make him give us what we want, or yield." "Yield! oh, Quinten, is it come to this ?"

"I have many that will join me," he continued, without noticing Philip's interruption, "and the whole city feels as I do."

"Not all the city," said Philip.

"Oh no! not all-the burgomaster, of course, and your heroic commander John Van der Does, with a few other desperates, who feel morally certain that their necks will answer to the Spaniards for past crimes should the city fall into their hands. Of course their watchword is hold out to the last, and why should it not; a surrender never would procure their pardon; and what do they care that thousands should pine and die to save them from the executioner's axe?"

"Quinten, you wrong our rulers, and misinterpret their motives."

"Not I, indeed," was the answer; "I but charge them with doing what all the rest of the world does, thinking and acting only for themselves; but I claim the like liberty for us, the oppressed down-trodden thousands of whom they take no thought. All the bread in the city is spent, and if we submit there is nothing but starvation before us. But we won't starve: we are the largest party, and the strongest party, and we'll force them to yield. Perhaps the Spaniards may be merciful, at least-"

"Merciful!" exclaimed Philip, as his lip trembled and his eye flashed with indignation. "Look to the powers of darkness themselves for mercy rather than to our perfidious tyrants. Are not they the debased mindless tools of their king-that king whose hands are dyed with the blood of his own and only son? Have they any delight save in violence and cruelty? What was the fate of Haarlem? What has been the fate of every place over which the black shadow of the Spanish flag was cast? You have seen what they were in war; you have seen what they are in peace; you had five years' enjoyment of their government, would you like it again? Would you like the Spanish priests to set their feet on your necks again, only irritated and not cowed by your half-hearted opposition? How would you enjoy being turned over to the tender mercies of the Inquisition ?"

"I have heard enough to make my blood run cold," said Quinten, "yet I doubt if any torture they could devise would

be more painful, more maddening, than the slow, daily, hourly death, we are enduring now."

Speak not of it till the sword has pierced through your own soul as it has through mine. I once had a brother," he added, in a lower and deeper tone, "you know his tale, Quinten, and will you ask me to yield to his murderers, will you ask me to force our rulers to do so? Take in one word my answer, I never will; I would rather die a thousand deaths."

"Spoken like thyself, my own brave brother," said Lisa, gently. Both the young men started at these words, uttered in a low and feeble, although not faltering voice. So agitated and absorbed had Quinten been by the subject which engrossed all his attention, that he had scarcely perceived the presence of his friend's sister; and even if he had done so, this was no time for the words of friendly greeting and kindly interchange of courtesies, which would have taken place in happier days. Yet was there something in the soft tones of that earnest voice, as well as in the few words of encouragement so calmly and cheerfully spoken, that struck to his very heart, and seemed to reproach him with weakness and cowardice in repining at that which one apparently so feeble and timid bore without a murmur. His conscience condemned him; and when, after some more conversation, he parted from Philip, it was evident that he considered his friend's course the nobler and more honourable one, although he had not strength to pursue it. But nature had made one a leaf to be borne hither and thither by the winds of impulse and opinion, and the other a stately tree, fast rooted in the soil of fixed principle, and able to battle bravely with the fiercest storms.

Lisa's words proved prophetic; a few more days of want and privation found her laid on the bed of languishing, from which the boding hearts of those who loved her told them but too plainly she would never rise again.

Nearly at the same time a note, fastened to the wing of a carrier pigeon, brought the welcome tidings that the Prince of Orange had at last resolved upon carrying into execution the only measure which could possibly relieve the besieged, but which, on account of its fearfully destructive nature, had been avoided as long as possible. This was no other than opening the dykes, which, by laying the whole surrounding country under water, would, of course, oblige the Spaniards to abandon the siege. Hope and joy now took the place of despair and anguish in the hearts of the besieged, and these feelings were excited to the uttermost when it was learned that William of Nassau had been true to his word, and the awful act was done. The Prince also caused flat-bottomed boats to be constructed

and laden with provisions, which would be borne to the city by the same waters that swept away its assailants. The inhabitants who, with a few exceptions, had evinced under the pressing hardships of the siege an admirable degree of fortitude, now thought their toils and sufferings were over at last. Joy and triumph beamed in every face, and nerved many a languid arm with new strength and courage.

So much the more heart-crushing and unendurable was the bitter disappointment which followed. The dykes were opened, and relief was in their very sight, yet in vain. The waters rose not one foot above their ordinary level. Man had done what he could; every nerve had been strained to save the devoted city, but God withheld that, without which, all man's efforts were unavailing. Not a breath of wind swelled the sails of the heavily laden boats without, or even stirred the dark folds of the Dutch national flag that still waved proudly over the citadel of Leyden.

Now that their last hopes were blasted, the courage which had so long upheld the unfortunate citizens gave way, and they sank into utter despair. All the bread and corn in the city had long since been exhausted; then everything that the ingenuity of man, pressed by hunger, could possibly turn into nutriment, had also failed; and now there only remained, as their last resource, a wretched and disgusting food, prepared from the skins of animals slaughtered during the siege.

As usual, pestilence trod fast on the heels of famine, and both combined with the ravages of war, bade fair to turn the once populous city into a desert. All the riches of the wealthy were inadequate to save them from the pangs of hunger; but the poor-what could they do in a time like this?

With patience and fortitude their miseries were borne by the family of Réné Van Rosenveldt. The appearance of comfort which the room they occupied had worn in happier days, had gradually changed to one of utter desolation and wretchedness; at most, all the furniture which remained consisted of a few rude seats and an humble bed, on which Lisa now lay.

DEBORAH.

THE PASSING CLOUD.

papers

around me,

As I sat in the office, my law could see out in the hot breathing streets the golden sunshine, brightening alike the dull heavy wain and the glittering carriage of the patrician.

66

Regulæ Generales " never seemed so hard to master as they were that afternoon; and the Blue Books looked out on the sunlight, which was creeping like a peaceful smile along the dirty wall opposite, with such unsympathetic gloominess that I was glad to hear the heavy booming of St. Paul's, as it tolled in measured tones, the hour of four. Indeed, I could not help fancying that its voice was more sullen than usual, and I hurried on my hat as I thought of the green fields, and new-born primroses, and the grand sunset there would be.

So away I went, humming a tune, one of pensive strains, and yet my favourite, when the dark clouds were gone, and the sky blue.

I can't account for it, but I felt more than usually annoyed that afternoon, when an orange boy dodged before me with "Three a penny, sir;" and the twanging pronunciation with which the omnibus conductor shouted the word "Bank," fell with extraordinary discord on my ear.

And, as I remembered the open country where there would be the bleating of the sheep, or the gentle fanning of the soft evening air, I hurried on, swinging my stick as I went with such vehemence that I am afraid it was the terror of every ancient lady I passed. "How grand is nature! how noble in all her operations!" I exclaimed, as I toiled to the brow of a hill, and sat down on a stile to rest. Before me opened a wide expanse of valley with hills rising on the other side, and the sun hanging over them like a vast drop of crimson blood. Between them and me were brown woodlands, and broad fields, blushing with the first green tints of the blades of early wheat, mingled, as they were, with the burnished clods of earth gilded by the setting sun.

I sat watching the changing hues of the landscape and enjoying the bounteous largess of nature, who spreads her feasts in every highway, where the way.