ves were stripped from the trees, every
living herb was converted into human food, but these expedients could not
avert starvation. The daily mortality was frightful infants starved to
death on the maternal breasts, which famine had parched and withered;
mothers dropped dead in the streets, with their dead children in their
arms. In many a house the watchmen, in their rounds, found a whole family
of corpses, father, mother, and children, side by side, for a disorder
called the plague, naturally engendered of hardship and famine, now came,
as if in kindness, to abridge the agony of the people. The pestilence
stalked at noonday through the city, and the doomed inhabitants fell like
grass beneath its scythe. From six thousand to eight thousand human
beings sank before this scourge alone, yet the people resolutely held
out--women and men mutually encouraging each other to resist the entrance
of their foreign foe--an evil more horrible than pest or famine.

The missives from Valdez, who saw more vividly than the besieged could
do, the uncertainty of his own position, now poured daily into the city,
the enemy becoming more prodigal of his vows, as he felt that the ocean
might yet save the victims from his grasp. The inhabitants, in their
ignorance, had gradually abandoned their hopes of relief, but they
spurned the summons to surrender. Leyden was sublime in its despair. A
few murmurs were, however, occasionally heard at the steadfastness of the
magistrates, and a dead body was placed at the door of the burgomaster,
as a silent witness against his inflexibility. A party of the more
faint-hearted even assailed the heroic Adrian Van der Werf with threats
and reproaches as he passed through the streets. A crowd had gathered
around him, as he reached a triangular place in the centre of the town,
into which many of the principal streets emptied themselves, and upon one
side of which stood the church of Saint Pancras, with its high brick
tower surmounted by two pointed turrets, and with two ancient lime trees
at its entrance. There stood the burgomaster, a tall, haggard, imposing
figure, with dark visage, and a tranquil but commanding eye. He waved his
broadleaved felt hat for silence, and then exclaimed, in language which
has been almost literally preserved, What would ye, my friends? Why do ye
murmur that we do not break our vows and surrender the city to the
Spaniards? a fate more horrible than the agony which she now endures. I