e
sea-storms fling, as they do on the banks of the island of Schouwen,
carcasses borne from the farthest north--monsters half men, half boats;
mummies bound in the floating trunks of trees, of which an example is
still to be seen at the guildhall of Zierikzee? In what country, as at
Wemeldingen, does a man fall head foremost into a canal, where, remaining
under water an hour, he sees his dead wife and children, who call to him
from Paradise, and is then drawn out of the water alive, whereupon he
relates this miracle to Victor Hugo, who believes it and comments on it,
concluding that the soul may leave the body for some time and then return
to it? Where, as near Domburg, at low water is it possible to draw up
ancient temples and statues of unknown deities? In what other place does
the sword of a Spanish captain, Mondragone, serve as a lightning-conductor,
as at Wemeldingen? In what other country are unfaithful women made to walk
naked through the streets of the town with two stones hung round the neck
and a cylinder of iron on the head, as in the island of Schouwen? Now,
really, this last marvel is no longer seen, but the stones still exist,
and any one can see them in the guildhall at Brauwershaven.

Our ship now entered that part of the southern branch of the Meuse
called Volkerak. The scene was just the same--dykes upon dykes, the
tips of houses and church-steeples, a few boats here and there. One
thing only was changed, the sky. I then saw for the first time the
Dutch sky as it usually appears, and witnessed one of those battles of
light peculiar to the Netherlands--battles which the great Dutch
landscape-artists have painted with insuperable power. Previously the
sky had been serene. It was a beautiful summer day: the waters were
blue, the banks emerald green, the air warm, with not a breath of wind
stirring. Suddenly a thick cloud hid the sun, and in less time than it
takes to tell it everything was as different as if the season, the
hour, and the latitude had all been changed in a moment. The waters
became dark, the green of the banks grew dull, the horizon was hidden
under a gray veil; everything seemed shrouded in a twilight which made
all things lose their outline. An evil wind arose, chilling us to the
bone. It seemed to be December; we felt the chill of winter and that
restlessness which accompanies every sudden menace on the part of
nature. All round the horizon small leaden-colored clouds began to
collect,