ssions he
was probably glad to escape with his life. Meantime the condition of
the inhabitants became worse and worse.

Jaqueline, with other maidens and matrons of rank, had formed themselves
into a band to carry such relief as they could obtain for the sufferers.
Day after day they nobly prosecuted their self-imposed duties, and many
by their means were aided who might otherwise have perished. Returning
one evening to her tower to attend her remaining pigeons, which as yet
she had not allowed to be killed in the hopes that they might serve some
useful purpose, after feeding them as was her wont, she was seated at
the window, inhaling the pure air which the lower part of the city had
failed to afford, when she observed a white spot in the sky glittering
in the rays of the setting sun. Nearer and nearer it came till she
perceived that it was a bird. It soon flew in at the window and
alighted in her arms. It was one of her own pigeons; beneath its wing
she discovered, securely fastened by a silken thread, a small folded
paper. Quickly untieing and releasing her bird, which she placed with
its companions, she hurried down with the document to her father. It
was, as she hoped, from Captain Van der Elst, written by the directions
of the Prince. He assured the citizens that he was already preparing
the promised aid, and that he hoped all difficulties would soon be
overcome. He again reminded the garrison of Leyden that the fate of
their country depended on their holding out. The captain did not say,
what was really the case, that the Prince himself was lying ill of a
fever at Rotterdam, and that unforeseen delays had occurred. As may be
supposed he added a few words of his own to be read only by Jaqueline,
who would, he trusted, receive the epistle. The burgomaster lost no
time in communicating the contents of the letter to the brave
commandant. The despatch served to revive the drooping spirits of the
garrison; still there was a further delay. Again the Spaniards attacked
the walls and were once more repulsed, but the numbers of the garrison
were slowly though surely decreasing, yet neither the burgomaster nor
John Van der Does entertained a thought of submission. As only one of
the pigeons had returned, Jaqueline hoped that another might soon appear
bringing more certain news of relief. She paid, as may be supposed,
frequent visits to her tower, gazing in the direction when she hoped her
winged messenger wo